Music – Stanfords Blog

Map of the Month: David Bowie’s London

“I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring” – David Bowie

Our Map of the Month for March 2025 is David Bowie’s London by Herb Lester Associates, written by Paul Gorman, design & illustration by Kit Russell.

This meticulously researched guide reveals the streets, studios, and secret spaces that shaped one of the 20th century’s most transformative artists.

From the back streets of Brixton to the Victoria & Albert Museum, each location tells a story of Bowie’s remarkable metamorphosis.

Trace his journey through 61 pivotal sites: recording studios where groundbreaking albums were born, bohemian enclaves that nurtured his radical creativity, and underground clubs that became launching pads for entire cultural movements.

A Childhood Memory of Place in ‘My Family and Other Rock Stars’

-Guest post by Tiffany Murray, author of My Family and Other Rock Stars.

‘Rockfield Studios is a farm with rock ’n’ roll and my mother is the cordon bleu chef. In the Quadrangle’s blue kitchen, she plays ‘That Ain’t the Way to Behave’ by Dr Feelgood, and ‘How Long’ by Ace, because she fed these songs. In our chalet (which she calls a converted stable) she keeps live shellfish in the bath, and they spit at me when I’m on the loo. Rockfield Studios is a kingdom of fields all the way to Monmouth. There are horses and cows and sheep, echo chambers and control rooms at Rockfield. Managers and record labels call the two studios ‘the Quadrangle’ and ‘the Coach House’, but we say, ‘Studio One’ and ‘Studio Two’. Nick Lowe and Dave Edmunds walk the tracks as big trucks filled with instruments and amps turn in the yard, and even though the Old Mill is a drive away, when the wind blows, I’m sure I can hear Black Sabbath rehearse. At Rockfield my night sounds are back: the dof-da—da, doof-da-da of drums, the high whine of electric guitar.

Mum and I are safe here; even if Hawkwind throw open the double doors of the studio in the middle of the night and wake me with ‘The Wizard Blew His Horn’.

It’s my lullaby.’

Extract: Distant Melodies: Music in Search of Home by Edward Dusinberre

Edward Dusinberre, first violinist of the Takács Quartet, writes about playing Benjamin Britten’s last string quartet, a way to bridge distance during the COVID-19 pandemic. This excerpt is adapted from Dusinberre’s Distant Melodies: Music in Search of Home, published by Faber.

Tuning our instruments backstage, we miss the sounds of enthusiastic chatter before our concert in Grusin Music Hall on the University of Colorado’s Boulder campus. Our feet clatter over the wooden floor before we bow to the livestream camera. I imagine our friends listening over loudspeakers in their living rooms and my parents who will watch our performance the next day in Cambridge, in the same part of the world that Benjamin Britten’s String Quartet no. 3, Opus 94 was largely composed. The menthol drop I slip into my mouth underneath my mask adds an extra sting to the hot breath that fogs my glasses. When we start to play, the facial clues that we usually rely on to communicate changes of character are hidden. From the sparkle in violist Richard O’Neill’s eyes I can imagine his smile. Our cellist, András Féjer sometimes raises his eyebrows sceptically against the dubious rhythmic instincts of a first violinist – now they seem manically animated.