David Bowie As He Begins To Regret The Whole Ziggy Stardust Thing

Look at yourself, David.

What is this lightning bolt makeup business? Why the gold lamé trousers and purple sequined shirts? What’s all this supposed to be? Those knee-high black-and-white-striped vinyl boots you wore on stage last night were very uncomfortable. And you’re leaving lipstick smears on all your teacups.

It’s all a bit silly, no?

And what’s this Spiders From Mars nonsense all about? What an odd name for a band. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t thinking, and that’s the problem. I’m sure the gents would much rather be called “The Perfectly Capable Musicians” or something of that sort. They haven’t expressed any particular discontent, but I think I can see a sad little glint in Mick’s eyes when I introduce the band every night…

Really now David, you’ve got a perfectly good name. David. Strong and biblical. You shouldn’t feel so obliged to go by another name. Let alone Ziggy Stardust. It’s just rather foolish, really.

And think of poor mum. She came all the way from Bromley to see the show last night, and all I could think of is how very odd it all must have seemed to her. She gave me my name, and there I was, performing in front of thousands of people, pretending I was someone else. She must have been so disappointed.

The whole concept is just strange, now that I think about it. A Rock and Roll band from Mars? A bit unlikely, don’t you think? It all seemed like such a good idea when I thought of it, but sitting here backstage taking a hard look in the mirror, I feel ashamed. Spaceships and fog and neon lights? I mean, now it all feels so…so…tacky.

And the reception was somewhat lukewarm last night; The standing ovation did feel a bit smug. And, if I think about it, would I want to pay to see a man in a red wig and chartreuse tights sing about so-called Starmen? Probably not, really. Maybe I’m coming on too strongly.

Well, that’s it, then. Huhhh. I guess I’m retiring Ziggy Stardust. I need a classy new look. Like a pirate…yeahh…with an eyepatch! I’ll call myself Halloween Jack! Yes, that’s much more refined.

I just need to go out there and tell all the fans. They’ll understand.

—Backstage at the Hammersmith Odeon, July 3, 1973