On Tuesday, a young woman named Marah Eakin penned a post for the A.V. Club extolling the merits of Bowie’s rousing 1972 single, “Suffragette City.” Fair enough, as I mentioned at the tail end of yesterday’s post, it was that very same song that first indoctrinated me into the Bowie faith. A full-throttled guitar stomp that seems to perfectly encapsulate all things glam, proto-punk, proto-metal, proto-whathave you in one glorious, balls-out, turn-it-up or fuck-right-off anthem of hedonistic rock abandon, "Suffragette City" is an inarguable classic.
Let's go there now, shall we?
So, I totally agree with all that, but there’s one thing in Eakin's piece I did a little bit of wincing about, specifically this stuff…
All swagger and attitude, “Suffragette City” is the perfect song for fuck you kiss-offs (“Wham, bam, thank you ma’am”), Saturday night pre-gaming, and sweaty bar dancing. I honestly have no idea what it’s about, what the lyrics are, or what Suffragette City really means, but who cares?
Well, hold the phone, Ms. Eakin.
Back when the earth was young and ponderous herds of woolly mammoths still roamed the verdant hills, I was a college radio d.j. with something of a disconcerting track record of pissing off the evidently-easily-riled listeners of what is now my alma mater and its surrounding environs. Whether it was from playing Metallica’s “Trapped Under Ice” at 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning, interrupting arguably dull requested songs before they were finished, playing pointedly averse tracks in opposition to requested songs (like, say, “Orphans” by Teenage Jesus & the Jerks instead of “Touch of Grey” by the Grateful Dead) or airing songs of inappropriate or questionable taste at awkward opportunities (like, say, “Beaver Patrol” by Pop Will Eat Itself during Women’s Emphasis Week, … although I swear that one was entirely unintentional), I managed to abuse my station at the …er… station somewhat routinely.
The particular instance that was brought to mind today, however, involves a robust, Thursday evening airing of “Suffragette City.” As I was preparing to segue into my shift out of a fellow disc jockey’s implausibly yawnsome set (all Hot Tuna and Little Feat – welcome to Denison University `86!), I thought a bit of Ziggy-era Bowie would act as a galvanizing transition (instead of, y’know, the jarring sonic upheaval of “Rip Ride” by Venom, or some such). So, I dropped the needle on “Suffragette City” and was off and running.
Within a moment, though, the phone lit up, and I found myself -- once again -- on the horn with an individual I’ll call Shelley. Now, as it happened, Shelley had a gig working the desk on the second floor of the student union at seemingly all hours of the day. As such, she could not escape the melodious strains of WDUB, 91.1 FM in Granville, Ohio, even if she wanted to – whether we were playing Sade or Little Feat or Napalm Death or Alvin & the Chipmunks or whatever. She was, quite literally, our captive audience. With this in mind, she frequently had a lot to say about our programming, and quite specifically mine. Only weeks before, she’d taken me to task for playing “People Who Died” by the Jim Carroll Band, admonishing me that it was in very poor taste. There’s no pleasing some folks.
Anyway, in short order Shelley started in on me, berating me for playing “a song that glorifies rape” on our radio station. Say what? Caught entirely off-guard, I told Shelley to take a deep breath and calm down, but all I got -– before she quite literally slammed the phone down on me –- was “JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK ‘WHAM, BAM THANKYA, MA’AM’ MEANS?!?!”
Now, as big of fan of all things needlessly provocative as I am, I’ll never be the first to suggest that I’m an authority on arcane and profane slang. As I mentioned back on this post, I was a frothy-mouthed fan of the Circle Jerks for about a good two years before someone informed me of the actual definition of their name (oh, just Google it). I’d been fully prepared to tell our Shelley to chill out, but this one stopped me in my tracks.
Now, by no means am I supporting the notion that Bowie was indeed glorifying rape in any capacity, as that seems roundly out of character for someone who, by virtually all accounts, was something of a consummate nice guy and tirelessly considerate advocate for human understanding. That said, there were moments wherein the man imbibed a superhuman portion of pharmaceuticals and took leave of what some might consider his common sense (seek ye “Cracked Actor”). There was also that whole Nazi salute thing at Victoria Station, but he went on to vehemently deny that. It might be further worth remembering that in "Suffragette City," Bowie’s protagonist refers to an unseen conversant as “Droogie,” a term pilfered from Anthony Burgess’ notorious “A Clockwork Orange.” There’s a bit of unmissable, non-consensual sexual battery in that, as well.
This all said, being that I don’t actually know the origins of “Wham, Bam Thankya Ma’am,” I thought I should do a little digging.
According to a site called Songfacts.com, Bowie lifted the phrase from jazz legend, Charles Mingus…
The famous "Wham Bam Thank-you Ma'am" lyric was the title of one of the tracks on Charles Mingus' 1961 Oh Yeah album (according to Mingus it was also a phrase that his drummer, Max Roach, used when he was "unable to express his inner feelings") and most likely one which Bowie was aware of, being a jazz lover himself. (thanks, Klasic Rok - Battle Ground, WA, for all above)
Deeper digs reveal its possible true provenance as unsavory prison slang.
Either way, it’s probably not something that is so easily repurposed as simply a “kiss off.”
But I put it to you, rock historians and prison slang aficionados –- is “Suffragette City” offensive?
Weigh in.
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