Was somewhat touched by Siouxsie Sioux's interview in this month's Uncut (really guys, less skunk...your critical faculties are failing fast) when she revealed that she had her first full sex (to use the Sun's phrase) to the strains of Mick Ronson's vastly underrated Slaughter On 10th Avenue. Ronno was also the background to a lot of my adolescent fumbling too, but I was probably too young to have got to whatever 'base' Americans regard as being the one where you actually do it. But I do remember actually finding something in Ronno's music that his ex-boss strangely didn't have...something erm...arousing. While Bowie's records were stylish, groovy and talked about IT they never actually made you feel like doing it. More anthropological than erotic. Whereas Mick's debut, while having copped its vocals from the Dame, benefitted from the Les Paul being utterly unrestrained which , coupled with songs of groany decadence, just sounded so, well...horny to adolescent ears.Mind you, the music itself ain't that shabby either. "Hey Ma Get Pa" is a wonderful homage to Todd Rundgren's A Wizard...and his take on Gershwin is a glam classic. Unfortunately the follow-up, Play Don't Worry, suffers from over-egging this raunchy element, especially on the dreadful cover. Such a handsome boy didn't need THAT much make up. I guess that's why he ended up with another glam refugee who'd flown the Bowie nest - Ian Hunter, the man with the LEAST rock 'n' roll name in christendom...
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