The audience is buzzing. The curtain draws back to show the Knobs ready to play. I flounce out and sing the ‘Wellkommen’ intro to ‘Cabaret.’ The audience is stilled. They expected rock but this is Broadway
The band starts playing the intro to ‘Cabaret.’ Mike moon walks back and forth across the stage, as I remain at the MOOG, whispering ‘we are the young Americans, young Americans.’
‘Come taste the wine,
Come hear the band.
Come blow a horn,
Start celebrating;
Right this way,
Your table’s waiting.
What good’s permitting
Some prophet of doom
To wipe every smile away.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret!’
I stop playing the keyboard and give the band the ‘cut’ motion. The audience is too stunned to clap (or, boo).
“Tonight. everyone is welcome to the new Casino. The band is the Knobs, in honor of Claude Nobs, the savior of the Montreux Music Festival. In case you have forgotten, here’s the story of the demise of the old Casino, ‘Smoke on the Water’
I sing the verse in a low tenor, with Mike echoing the chorus ‘Smoke on the water’ and when the lines about Claude’s heroics come up,
‘They burned down the gambling house
It died with an awful sound
Uh, Fireman Claude was running in and out
Pulling out kids to the ground’
We all point at him, oblivious to the attention while shaking his tambourine furiously.
The heavy bass intro gets the fans more comfortable and the band gets a few cheers.
“We’re back,” I shout as the song ends, “and, thanks to Claude,” as I point to our patron.
He gets a well-deserved hand. He looks embarrassed.
“I know y’all like old rock. Let’s try how they roll in Jamaica. This is Bob Marley’s ‘One Love.’
I play the intro on the MOOG keyboard and Mike comes in on the high vocals as I sing back up (‘One Love’).
We play the Hendrix version of Dylan’s ‘All Along the Watchtower.’ Billy really has the distorted guitar licks down.
“Speaking about ‘getting together,” let’s not forget ‘Woodstock.”
The mellow people are drowned out by the anti-American firebrands.
“I agree,” I shout. “The hippie vibe has died. But Hendrix lives on.”
I start the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ psychedelic version,
We get through about minute of American hubris and the boos start up. I signal the band to stop.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “You think young Americans are all red, white and blue. This is my song about how fucked Vietnam was. This is what I feel about ‘My Uncle Sam.’”
The Knobs are ready to play punk rock. Billy plays the guitar intro at double speed
‘My Uncle Sam
Sent me to Nam
Wasn’t our fight
He had no right
Without a cause
We lost our lives
To top it off
we lost the fight
He’s my Uncle Sam
I love my Uncle Sam
He regulates us in our states
But we just repudiate
Always the same
Can’t u see
We always die
For his needs
That’s my Uncle Sam
He’s my Uncle Sam
He always loves to interfere
Things don’t concern us here
Arrogance is our stance
Makes us stand
Ready for command
He’s my Uncle Sam, my Uncle Sam
Public relations is all he wants
Red & white stripes
Blue starred pants
He never fights
Just gives commands
So I die for my Uncle Sam
I love my Uncle Sam
I love my Uncle Sam’
The kids in front of the stage had been well-behaved, knowing they will be part of the Bowie portion of the cabaret. The driving punk tempo is an explosive wake-up call. Amar starts spinning and the others rotate around him. The crowd knows about the riot last week and prepares to hit the exits.
“Stop,” I yell at the end of the song. Both band and dancers freeze. The crowd relaxes and sits down. There was no dancing in the aisles or at their seats. A little wake-up was needed after the dreamy reggae song and the stoned Hendrix/Woodstock memories.
“Y’all need to chill out,” I advise the audience. “In case you do not know, rock and roll is about letting people who like each other be together. How about a little Paul McCartney to tell you what to do? Be hospitable. ‘Let ‘em In.’”
I sing while Mike points at Amar first, then all the other spinners in front of the stage.
‘Someone’s knockin’ at the door
Somebody’s ringin’ the bell
Someone’s knockin’ at the door
Somebody’s ringin’ the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let ’em in, yeah, let ’em in
Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Brother Michael, auntie Gin
Open the door and let ’em in, yeah
Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Uncle Ernie, auntie Gin
Open the door and let ’em in, yeah
Someone’s knockin’ at the door
Somebody’s ringin’ the bell
Someone’s knockin’ at the door
Somebody’s ringin’ the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let ’em in, ooh yeah, let ’em in
Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Uncle Earnie, uncle Lin
Open the door and let ’em in, yeah
Someone’s knockin’ at the door
Somebody’s ringin’ the bell
Someone’s knockin’ at the door
Somebody’s ringin’ the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let ’em in, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah’
Songwriters: Paul Mccartney
Let ’em In lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
It is a happy vibe and the audience whistles and hums along.
“That’s better,” I can tell the audience is eating out of our hands. “Now, for you that have a hard time being accepted, ‘Keep Yourself Alive.’
Billy kicks in the Brian May licks. Deacy and Roger have replaced the Knobs who exit the stage. After Billy is finished with the leads, Freddie dashes on stage, grabbing a mic,
“You think you can be Queen for a day?’
Our surprise guests have arrived. The audience is on their feet, cheering for the (sort of) hometown boys. No one notices Brian’s absence.
“Mais non, Freddie. Tu es reine pour la vie.” (Queen for life)
I get a big laugh and play keyboards to compliment Billy’s guitar. It takes two to replace Brian May.
Queen knocks them dead with a medley of past hits, starting with ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’
Mike and I join in with the others doing back-ups. Only Mike can hit the hit notes for ‘Galileo.’ The song does go on and on. Finally done, Freddie goes right into ‘We will Rock You,’ noting that Billy and I are replacing Brian, “only because he is home with his newly born son, James.”
Then, they go into ‘Champions’ without stopping
Freddie lets me do the piano part on the MOOG. He paces back and forth on the stage.
At the end, he grabs Mike and me, pulling us to the mic.
“You may have noticed old Laz, our teenage cabaret MC. We call him Boss because at 19 he doesn’t know any better. Now Michael, the other half of the Young Americans duo, is a little more famous at 19 in his own right. If you don’t know after this next song who he is, ask the person next to you. Take it boys.”
I step up and put an arm around Mike.
“Michel est mon ami le mieux. Nous sommes des immigrants des États-Unis. C’est impossible a revenir. Tout ce que nous avions, c’était l’un l’autre. All we had was each other. Maintenant nous avons notres amis de Monteux mais avant cela, ce n’était que les deux. Merci Montreux. Notre chanson est pour vous. This song is for you.”
Mike sings to me. Once he starts everyone realizes that he is Michael Jackson. He waits for the cheers to die down before going on with the song. We back each other up in our own version of ‘Ben.’
‘‘Laz, the two of us need look no more
We both found what we were looking for
With a friend to call my own
I’ll never be alone
And you my friend will see
You’ve got a friend in me
(You’ve got a friend in me)’
My turn to sing to Mike,
‘Mike, you’re always running here and there
(Here and there)
You feel you’re not wanted anywhere
(Anywhere)
If you ever look behind
And don’t like what you find
There’s something you should know
You’ve got a place to go
(You’ve got a place to go)’
We turn to the Dervish awaiting their cue. I finish the song as Mike joins Amar in the crowd. Let the whirling begin.
‘I used to say “I” and “me”
Now it’s “us”, now it’s “we”
I used to say “I” and “me”
Now it’s “us”, now it’s “we”
Don’t let people turn you away
(Turn you away)
Don’t listen to a word they say
(A word they say)
They don’t see you as I do
I wish they would try to
I’m sure they’d think again
If they had a friend like you
(A friend)
Like you
(Like you)
Like you’
Freddie walks up to me. I give him a big hug, my rescuer. No kiss this time. Amar’s father is watching.
Freddie takes the mic.
“Laz came out of the hospital in Geneve, still suffering from injuries that happened 17 months ago. He instantly knew what I needed and created the opening band, The Knobs, to break me out of the funk that threatened to put an end to Queen. As noted, our roadie Billy is substituting for Brian who had to be home in London. We are back and better than ever, creating new songs and planning to headline the Montreux Music Festival this summer. This song is for you, Laz, ‘You’re My Best Friend.” I escape his hug and man the MOOG. I mouth, ‘Thank you’ to Freddie.
‘You are My Best Friend’
Here’s a new song, no one’s heard before, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now.’
Freddie comes over and we do a four-hand duet on the MOOG. Everyone sings the chorus as the tempo becomes more upbeat
‘Don’t stop me, don’t stop me
Don’t stop me, hey, hey, hey
Don’t stop me, don’t stop me
Ooh, ooh, ooh, I like it
Don’t stop me, don’t stop me
Have a good time, good time
Don’t stop me, don’t stop me, ah
Let loose, honey, all right’
“Now somehow we came up with the current number one radio hit in London, a song by Deacy, that is a new style for us, ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’”
The kids in front are dancing. Some in the audience try to come down to join them. Security only lets the kids through. Good policy, Henri.
“In the spirit of alternative songs, we’ll finish with ‘Under Pressure.’ I know you want to see our headliner tonight,” Freddie announces.
Several cries of ‘No’ show Freddie he is I still loved, even if he’s sucking up to his fans.
Midway through the first verse, Bowie adds his voice, walking out to great applause.
After they finish and chat about the great audience, the Turk band starts a long intro to ‘Space Oddity;’ I sing the role of Ground Control from the MOOG.
‘Ground Control to Major Tom
Ground Control to Major Tom
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on
Ground Control to Major Tom’
Mike sings the countdown
‘(ten, nine, eight, seven, six)
Commencing countdown, engines on (five, four, three)
Check ignition and may God’s love be with you (two, one, liftoff)
I return with instructions for Major Tom.
This is Ground Control to Major Tom
You’ve really made the grade
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare
Bowie sings as Major Tom,
“This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I’m stepping through the door
And I’m floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there’s nothing I can do’
The MOOG really kicks in.
Though I’m past one hundred thousand miles
I’m feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell my wife I love her very much
Mike sings,
‘She knows’
I sing as Ground Control again
‘Ground Control to Major Tom
Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?’
Bowie responds
‘Can you “Here am I floating ’round my tin can
Far above the moon
Planet Earth is blue
And there’s nothing I can do”’
Songwriters: David Bowie
Space Oddity lyrics © T.R.O. In
Bowie picks up an acoustic guitar and plays the song’s long finale, walking the front of the stage above the spaced-out whirlers, who have been milling about.
Mike and I use the mic at the Moog to sing “Young Americans’ about the preening stars still on stage. Bowie laughs as we change the lyrics around.
‘All night
We are the young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans
They want the young Americans
All right (all right)
Well, They want the young Americans
Do you remember, our President Nixon? (ooh)
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay?
Or even yesterday?’
Bowie grabs a mic and finishes the song his way.
‘You ain’t a pimp and you ain’t a hustler
A pimp’s got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler
Black’s got respect, and white’s got his soul train
Mama’s got cramps, and look at your hands ache
(I heard the news today, oh boy)
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain’t there a man who can say no more?
And, ain’t there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, ain’t there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain’t there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain’t you proud that you’ve still got faces?
Ain’t there one damn song that can make me
Break down and cry?
All night
I want the young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans, I want the young Americans
All right
I want the young Americans, young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans I want the young Americans (I want what you want, I want what you want)
All night
You and I
I want you, I
Young Americans, young Americans, I want the young Americans
All right
And all I want is the young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans, I want the young Americans’
Songwriters: David Bowie
Young Americans lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Tintoretto Music
As he finishes, David comes over and I begin ‘Pretty Things’ on the MOOG. I play while David sings to me, with Mike echoing the title
Wake up you sleepy head
Put on some clothes
Shake up your bed
Put another log on the fire for me
I’ve made some breakfast and coffee
Look out my window and what do I see
A crack in the sky
And a hand reaching down to me
All the nightmares came today
And it looks as though they’re here to stay
What are we coming to
No room for me
No fun for you
I think about a world to come
Where the books were found by the golden ones
Written in pain, written in awe
By a puzzled man who questioned
What we were here for
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they’re here to stay
‘Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don’t you know you’re driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don’t you know you’re driving your
Mamas and Papas insane’
I sing the response,
‘Let me say it again
You gotta make way for the Homo Superior’
Bowie replies
‘Look out at your children
See their faces in golden rays
Don’t kid yourself they belong to you
They’re the start of a coming race
The earth is a bitch
We’ve finished our news
Homo Sapiens have outgrown their use
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they’re here to stay
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don’t you know you’re driving your
Mamas and Papas insane’
Produced By David Bowie & Ken Scott
Written By David Bowie
We answer with ‘Boys Keep Swinging’ on the MOOG keyboard
‘When you’re a boy
You can wear a uniform
When you’re a boy
Other boys check you out
You get a girl
These are your favourite things
When you’re a boy….
‘Boys
Boys
Boys keep swinging
Boys always work it out’
They’ll never clone ya
You’re always first on the line
When you’re a boy’
Produced By Tony Visconti & David Bowie
Written By Brian Eno & David Bowie
With only a pause, I start the next song, a new one, ‘DJ’
‘I am a D.J., I am what I play
Can’t turn around, no, can’t turn around, no, oh ooh
I am a D.J., I am what I play
Can’t turn around, no, turn around no, oh no
I am a D.J., I am what I play
I’ve got believers
Believing in me’
Produced By Tony Visconti & David Bowie
Written By Brian Eno & David Bowie
Bowie explains himself,
“I never knew who I was, Major Tom floating far above the world and never fitting in with my mates. Waiting for inspiration or someone or something to show the way, a ‘Starman’”
I didn’t know what time it was. The light were low
I leaned back on my radio
Some cat was layin’ down some rock ‘n’ roll
“Lotta soul,” he said
Then the loud sound did seem to fade
Came back like a slow voice on a wave of phase
That wasn’t no DJ, that was hazy cosmic jive
(I soar on the MOOG)
There’s a starman waiting in the sky
He’d like to come and meet us
But he thinks he’d blow our minds
There’s a starman waiting in the sky
He’s told us not to blow it
‘Cause he knows it’s all worthwhile’
Bowie walks to the front and sings directly to the Lake kids swaying below him
‘He told me
Let the children lose it
Let the children use it
Let all the children boogie’
La, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la
La, la, la, la’
Produced By David Bowie & Ken Scott
Written By David Bowie
Bowie with his hands on his hips, paces back and forth in front of Mike and me at the MOOG. Pointing at me, he starts singing ‘Jean Genie’ (I am wearing jeans). I turn the MOOG settings to saxophone to create a funky beat.
‘Jean Genie lives on his back
The Jean Genie loves to give back
He’s outrageous
(Jean Genie)
He screams and he bawls
Jean Genie, let yourself go
Ooo, oww’
The kids are moving erratically. Amar looks distressed, glancing to where his family is seated, afraid to get into the primal beat. Others are pushing into him, randomly changing direction on the floor. Chaos.
‘So simple minded he can’t drive his module
He bites on the neon and sleeps in the capsule
(Aah)
Loves to be loved
(Aah)
Loves to be loved’
Songwriters: Bowie David
The Jean Genie lyrics © Chrysalis Music Ltd., Tintoretto Music, Chrysalis Music Ltd, Rzo Music Ltd
Henri turns the lights down as Bowie paces the stage with a hand mic, singing the opening to ‘Rebel Rebel’
The lights come up as Bowie stands at the front, staring and pointing at Amar, who looks like he wants to disappear into the floor.
‘Hot tramp, I love you so’
His friends cheer, lift him above their heads and spin him around the floor. His spirits return and he waves to everyone as Bowie sings about a transvestite. The kids lift him to his feet on their shoulders. Amar starts to spin and his robes rise and billow.
‘Rebel rebel, you’ve torn your dress
Rebel rebel, your face is a mess
Rebel rebel, how could they know?
Hot tramp, I love you so!
You’ve torn your dress, your face is a mess
You can’t get enough, but enough ain’t the test
You’ve got your transmission and your live wire
You got your cue line and a handful of ludes
You wanna be there when they count up the dudes
And I love your dress
You’re a juvenile success
Rebel rebel, you’ve torn your dress
Rebel rebel, your face is a mess
Rebel rebel, how could they know?
Hot tramp, I love you so!
You like me, and I like it all
We like dancing and we look divine
You love bands when they’re playing hard
You want more and you want it fast
They put you down, they say I’m wrong
You tacky thing, you put them on
Because your face is a mess
So how could they know?
I said, how could they know?
So what you wanna know
Calamity’s child, chi-chi, chi-chi
Where’d you wanna go?
What can I do for you? Looks like you’ve been there too
‘Cause you’ve torn your dress
And your face is a mess
Ooh, your face is a mess
Ooh, ooh, so how could they know?
Eh, eh, how could they know?
Eh, eh’
Written by: David Bowie
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, TINTORETTO MUSIC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
More kids rush down the aisles, past security, to join their peers. Bowie disappears behind the stage and reemerges wearing boxing gloves and dancing like Muhammad Ali. The band starts ‘Panic in Detroit,’ while I create horns on the MOOG.
‘He looked a lot like Che Guevara, drove a diesel van
Kept his gun in quiet seclusion, such a humble man
The only survivor of the National People’s Gang
Panic in Detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit…
‘Panic in Detroit
Panic in Detroit
Panic in Detroit’
Produced By Ken Scott & David Bowie
Written By David Bowie
Now David has a length of rope wrapped around his waist. Tossing the loose end to Mike, they begin a tug of war as Bowie edges closer to the front of the stage. The kids press forward as Bowie leans out over their heads, only held back by Mike’s grip on the rope, and sings ‘Diamond Dogs’
‘I’ll keep a friend serene
(Will they come?)
Oh baby, come unto me
(Will they come?)
Well, she’s come, been and gone
Come out of the garden, baby
You’ll catch your death in the fog
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs
Oo-oo-ooh, call them the Diamond Dogs
Oo-oo-ooh, call them the Diamond Dogs
In the year of the scavenger, the season of the bitch
Sashay on the boardwalk, scurry to the ditch
Just another future song, lonely little kitsch
(There’s gonna be sorrow) try and wake up tomorrow’
Songwriters: David Bowie
Diamond Dogs lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Tintoretto Music
As the crowd below David becomes a mass of outstretched arms, Mike lowers him until he is horizontal to the stage and drops him suddenly into the arms. Still holding the mic, he finishes the song.
Mike sings ‘Rock and Roll Suicide’ as Bowie is carried above the kids’ heads in front of the stage, pretending to smoke a cigarette.
‘Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth
You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette
The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget
Ohhh, you’re a rock ‘n’ roll suicide
You’re too old to lose it, too young to choose it
And the clocks waits so patiently on your song
You walk past a cafe but you can’t eat when you’ve lived too long
Oh, no, no, no, you’re a rock ‘n’ roll suicide’
Bowie wriggles out of the grasping hands and runs back on stage, singing the rest of the song with Mike,
‘Oh no love! you’re not alone
You’re watching yourself but you’re too unfair
You got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care
Oh no love! you’re not alone
No matter what or who you’ve been
No matter when or where you’ve seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I’ve had my share, I’ll help you with the pain
You’re not alone
Just turn on with me and you’re not alone
Let’s turn on with me and you’re not alone
Let’s turn on and be not alone
Gimme your hands cause you’re wonderful
Gimme your hands cause you’re wonderful
Oh gimme your hands.’
Written by: David Bowie
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, TINTORETTO MUSIC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Bowie moves back to the front of the stage and sits down.
“I’m not taking a break. I want to talk with everyone here tonight about an important part of this show. It’s been pretty exciting, right?”
A lot of clapping and cheers confirms David opinion of himself. Rockstars!
“Maybe you wondered why so many kids are here in the front, all dressed in white robes?”
He motions to Amar, “Come over here and bring Duncan, too.”
Amar leads Duncan by the hand up the stairs beside the stage. They stand next to Bowie, holding hands.
“I guess you listened to the last song, huh?” pointing at their hands.
They nod, confused because they often hold hands.
Turning back to the audience, Bowie begins, “Duncan and I are immigrants. We come from England and even there we are Welsh immigrants. Amar is from Tunisia and his robes signify that he is Sufi, a religious sect. Duncan holds hands because he is seven and most kids everywhere need to hold someone. Amar holds hands even though he is fifteen. His culture holds hands to show they protect each other. They became friends because Laz and Michael, the Young Americans on stage, are teaching kids to swim over by the lakefront. America is multicultural. Laz is White and Michael is Black but here they are best friends because they are both Americans and the same age. What all of us have in common is we are foreigners in a foreign land. Before coming here, I met my band back in Berlin. Because they are Turkish we shared the need to fit into German culture. We wrote a song in Turkish and English about being immigrants. It is about how hard it is to immigrate and start a new life. The song is called ‘Yassassin,’ meaning ‘Long Live.’ Amar has taught all his Lake friends including Duncan how to spin to music. He is called a Whirling Dervish. I hope you like my new song. I hope you will say ‘Yassassin’ to any Turkish people you meet. They only want to be friends.”
“Now scoot,” he tells Duncan and Amar, who waves at his family seated near the front (thanks Henri).
Mike and I are at the MOOG. I create a middle eastern bazaar sound, like an Arabic oud (Arabic: عود) and create the tempo with the band’s percussionist
Mike and I sing the first word over and over as Bowie responds in English,
‘Yassassin – I’m not a moody guy
Yassassin – I walk without a sound
Yassassin – Just a working man, no judge of men
Yassassin – But such a life I’ve never known’
Mike leaves and joins the dervishes on the concert floor. Amar has already started whirling.
Bowie sings the verses,
We came from the farmlands
To live in the city
We walked proud and lustful
In this resonant world
You want to fight
But I don’t want to leave
Or drift away’
I continue with my one word cry
‘Yassassin – I’m not a moody guy
Yassassin – I walk without a sound
Yassassin – Just a working man, no judge of men
Yassassin – But such a life I’ve never known’
The next chorus a three word cry,
‘Look at this – no second glances
Look at this – no value of love
Look at this – just sun and steel
Look at this – then look at us
If there’s someone in charge
Then listen to me
Don’t say nothing’s wrong
‘Cause I’ve got a love
And she’s afeared
You want to fight
But I don’t want to leave
Or drift away
‘Yassassin – I’m not a moody guy
Yassassin – I walk without a sound
Yassassin – Just a working man, no judge of men
Yassassin – But such a life I’ve never known’
Songwriters: David Bowie
Yassassin (Turkish for: Long Live) lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Tintoretto Music
Mike brings Amar back on stage and does his moon walk while Amar spins in a trance from whirling. Mike picks up Amar rotating him to the music as they move across the stage. At stage left he spins Amar into the air. They reconnect and proceed to stage right and repeat the spin. The next time Mike stops at stage center and spins Amar out over the crowd of whirling kids. He appears to float as every time he starts to descend another Dervish spins him in the air again. Amar remains in a trance of whirling.
Once the song ends, Bowie starts it again, repeating the entire song. The kids worked hard at their choreography. The practice paid off. The audience is entranced.
“Thank you, everyone,” Bowie indicates the show is done. The audience rises as one and claps as David, the band and I bow. They are demanding an encore.
“Some of you know I already played this song outside in honor of the magic that is Lake Geneva. In case you missed it, here’s how I feel about all these kids who performed so well and the kids who swim with dolphins.”
They audience knows that song, cheering and singing along,
(Earl’s Court, London June 30, 1978)
I, I will be king
And you, you will be my queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can beat them, for ever and ever
We can be heroes, just for one day
And you, you can be mean
And I, I’ll drink all the time
‘Cause we’re lovers, and that is a fact
Yes we’re lovers, and that is that
Though nothing will keep us together
We could steal time just for one day
We can be heroes for ever and ever
What d’you say?
I, I wish you could swim
Like dolphins, like dolphins can swim
Though nothing, nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, for ever and ever
Oh we can be Heroes, just for one day
What you say?
I, I would be king
And you, you would be my queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can be Heroes, just for one day
We can be us, just for one day
I, I can remember (I remember)
Standing, by the wall (by the wall)
And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads)
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall)
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes, just for one day
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
We’re nothing, and nothing will help us
Maybe we’re lying, then you better not stay
But we could be safer, just for one day
Oh-oh-oh-ohh, oh-oh-oh-ohh, just for one day’
Songwriters: Brian Eno / David Bowie / Andrea Schroeder
Heroes lyrics © Tintoretto Music, E.g. Music Publr. Ltd., Universal Music Mgb Ltd.
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Tim at Swim 