The Prettiest Star-a personal memoir of David Bowie





‘ Didn’t know what time it was the lights were low- oh oh,

I leaned back on my radio…’

It was a normal school- evening in our house-a nice suburban house on a nice suburban street in leafy Surrey.

I was not quite 12 years old, in love with the most popular boy in school-like everybody else-in despair about my curly hair, goofy smile, freckles and the fact that nothing much ever seemed to happen in our small town.

My family were pretty ok though and life was alright…not as exciting as I would have liked…but alright.

We settled down, as was our usual pattern on a Thursday night, to watch Top of The Pops. It was July 6th, 1972.

I don’t remember the other artists that must have been on that evening, nor the DJ presenting. In fact, I don’t remember much else. Not what I was wearing, or the homework I’d been set or what my mother had cooked for tea.

I just remember the moment I first saw him.

Standing with one hip cocked, a cheery smile ( which he had all his life ) and an arm slung round the shoulders of his main wingman- Mick Ronson.

There-on our own TV, in a corner of our sitting-room, wearing an extraordinary, one-shouldered, multi-coloured catsuit, his elongated, pale  and extremely skinny body nonchalantly daring us to disapprove- stood my Hero…David Bowie.

And he was singing, and pointing down the camera lens at …me.

‘ I had to phone someone so I picked on you-hoo-hoo…’

What on earth??

I knew immediately, without a shadow of a doubt-as I always do when I truly love someone-that I would love him forever. In fact- HAD loved him forever, for I already knew him. I’d been expecting him, somehow.

My parents were watching from their respective chairs.

My Mum, who even now, in her seventies, can admire and see the point of an avant garde artist ( she likes ) looked up with great interest, a smile spreading on her pretty face.

My Dad, however, musician though he was, looked gob-smacked and yes- slightly appalled.

This, of course, was exactly what we, as Teenagers had been waiting for: somebody, at last to shake even our liberal 60’s parents from their smug and comfortable perches, where they felt they had invented music- being the generation who’d discovered  Dylan, The Beatles and The Stones.

They’d  never seen anything like Mr Jones!

For that was his real name- David Jones.

Changed to Bowie to avoid any confusion with the singer of the same name ( well, Davy actually ) who fronted the rather anodyne Monkees.

‘Is that a woman or a man?’ My father asked.

I was entirely sure he was a man, but not like any I’d seen before.

He was singing about a Starman who was waiting in the sky, who would ‘like to come and meet us but he thinks he’d blow our minds.’

He blew mine.


The next day in school, we gathered to talk about him.

‘Did you see that guy, David Bowie on telly last night? Did you like him? I loved him! ‘

We were divided into two camps. Some people  couldn’t handle him at all, the rest of us (  a minority, these were the Seventies and Boy- Bands like The Osmonds were rife )   were in love.

So Bowie haircuts were secretly had, and bright red, razor-cut crops appeared on the most unlikely of souls.

My friend Lesley and I hugged the knowledge to ourselves that despite being quite good girls, from nice families, we had seen the light and were devoted fans, which made us somehow immediately cooler than we had been before.

I rushed out with my pocket money and spent it all in one go on my very first album: The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars.

What a title!

And the cover was so fantastic too, with a louche Mr Bowie, in a padded turquoise jumpsuit ( he loved a jumpsuit ) one leg up on what looked like a box  and cradling a guitar under a sign that rather inexplicably said: K.WEST.

This beloved record remains my favourite of all time- and not just because it was my first, but for the sheer brilliance and innovation of its sounds.

I took myself off to my bedroom, told my brothers to stay out, and settled down to learn every word…for these were the days of vinyl, and the  album sleeve, complete with full lyrics-0h joy.

For someone like me, who loves words and who has them deep in her very soul, it was these lyrics – as well as the gorgeous melodies- that thrilled me to the bone.

‘ Making love with his ego, Ziggy sucked up into his mind.

Like a leper Messiah

When the kids had killed the man

I had to break up the band.’ ( Ziggy Stardust )

I still know every word of nearly every Bowie song- and so do all the others of us who loved him at the same time, as evidenced at the concerts I went to, where the audience were word-perfect, despite some quite tricky phrasing: ‘ I’m an alligator, I’m a mama-papa coming for you.’ ( Moonage Daydream )

‘ Jung the foreman prayed at work, that neither hands nor limbs would burst.’ ( Drive-In Saturday )

You see, we didn’t have phones or the Internet. There were only 3 TV channels and we had no money to spend on very much, we were so young. There was nothing much to buy anyway.

These were the 70’s- dark days of power- cuts, the three-day week and the miners’ strikes, and we had never had somebody before who was all ours.

Our parents had The Beatles – and we loved them too-but suddenly, amongst us, as if he really had fallen to earth ( the title of one of his future films ) was this extraordinary being who seemed to me to be filled with a light I’d never seen before, but that somehow, I had dreamt of.

For I have always believed him to be a Wonder Soul, and some kind of Divine Messenger, though I wouldn’t have been able to articulate that back then.

So it went on.

And I, along with so many others, waited impatiently for another album release from our Hero, as even I couldn’t play Ziggy all day and night forever…and what’s more, my family were starting to object to the same sounds coming out of my room on repeat, from my little, prized Dansette ( I loved that record-player, I don’t think another, no matter how state-of-the-art or expensive will ever take its place in my heart. )

And we were rewarded-as we always were with any new Bowie album his whole career- with more innovative genius than anyone can reasonably expect in their lifetime.

‘Aladdin Sane’ was the brilliant title ( break the words down if you don’t know how clever ) of the second album I shot out to purchase.

Some of my very favourite tracks are on there- ‘ Drive-In Saturday ‘ ‘ The Prettiest Star’ ‘ Lady Grinning Soul’ with quite incredible piano by the unbelievably gifted Mike Garson, David’s long-time collaborator and friend.

(NB : Mike has a Facebook page , Mike Garson Official, where he is posting the most wonderful tributes and performances. Those of you who love David Bowie, check it out.)

And that instantly iconic, and now famous, cover of David with those white, white shoulders, that red, red hair and the orange and blue lightning bolt across his beautifully chiselled cheekbones.

For he was SO beautiful! Make no mistake about that.

More beautiful than most women or men have a right to be, and I believe it was this outrageous beauty that contributed to the  sense of shock he gave, and why he always troubled people who didn’t ‘get’ him.

Only last week, discussing his sudden death, a male friend told me he had never really liked Bowie as he was growing up because his androgynous beauty gave him a slightly uncomfortable feeling…was he a man or a woman? ( the same comment my Dad had made. )

For me, the shock of the beauty- and the androgyny- was a huge part of what I enjoyed so much about him. That was the whole point; to make people feel uncomfortable, wake them up, shake them out of their dull suburban stupor.

Only the very bravest among us are prepared to do that, have the talent to do that.

And as I grew up and changed, David changed with me. Ch-ch-ch-Changes.

Always just one step ahead, not quite a whole generation , but older than me by enough years to make him seem more adult.

His Berlin years-producing three of his finest albums in my opinion-were another milestone, coming at the same time as the fall of The Berlin Wall…no such thing as a coincidence that he was there for a major historic event that removed a barrier between people.He was all about breaking down barriers.

A message posted on the German Foreign office’s official Twitter account after his death read simply: ‘ Good-bye, David Bowie. You are now among Heroes.( a reference to his eponymous album ) Thank you for helping to bring down the wall.

One of David’s most outstanding characteristics, and the trait I admire the most in any human, was his courage to be himself, in all his many forms.

Always evolving and changing ( ‘ turn and face the strange,’- Changes )

he had the fierce kind of intellect that refused to settle for anything mediocre, or less than he could be.

He explored the avenues that are often far too frightening for many of us, whether they were his sexuality, his struggles with addiction or his quest for answers in the spiritual realm.

For David Jones was a deeply spiritual man, a man who I believe had been here many times before and who was on his Master Lifetime.

Is it any wonder he sometimes felt so lost and alien? Like any truly Cosmic and sensitive soul, he often found it unbearably painful to live here on earth and witness what humans do to each other ( ‘ take a look at the lawman, beating up the wrong guy’ – Life On Mars ).

He was sent here to help us heal, and heal us he did, through his wonderful, wonderful music.

Lucky indeed are we who grew up and were alive at the same time as him- and that is no coincidence either!

If there is a song from this period that sums up his quest for me, it is the sublime and heart-rendingly beautiful, ‘ Word On A Wing’.

From the album ‘ Station to Station’, a masterpiece of drama, emotion and epic accomplishment that Bowie wrote whilst battling the demon of Cocaine, to me, it is David’s most eloquent and sincere outpouring of his belief in God ( apart from his final song, Lazarus, about which, more later.)

‘ Just because I believe, don’t mean I don’t think as well, don’t have to question everything in heaven or hell.

‘ Lord, I kneel and offer you, my word on a wing. And I’m trying hard to fit among, your scheme of things.’

Please listen to this one, if you listen to nothing else… the sheer honesty.

We are all just trying hard to fit among the scheme of things, but David tried harder than most.

I think the reason I’ve loved Station to Station for nearly 40 years, and still play tracks from it most days, is the feeling I got -and get- that here was a record that came from somewhere else other than planet earth. From heaven perhaps. An uncanny album, somehow.

From David’s subconscious, or even unconscious mind, as he reported that he didn’t remember much about making it ( due to the drug abuse .)

His band’s quite astonishing musicality and range is on every single diverse track.

To listen to his stunning vocals on the haunting ‘ Wild Is The Wind,’ is to be transported to heaven for a while.

And I think that’s my 1, 2, 3 of his albums right there : Ziggy, Aladdin Sane and Station to Station…if I had to choose.


‘ I heard the news today, oh boy.’ ( Young Americans )

This part of my tribute- and I realise this is a long post, the longest yet- has taken me a month to be able to write and is the hardest of all.

I was in America at the time, with some Young Americans of my own…( Lovely Marley and my eldest son, Rob…not American, but living there )

Fitting really, as so was he, having made New York his home a long time ago, though he was a London lad, and one of  our very own to start with.

I woke up in Rob and Marley’s house at 8am, Florida – time and turned on my Twitter and Facebook feeds. It was 1pm in London.


That wasn’t right. My eyes and brain were deceiving me.It could not be. It was impossible.


Two days before, on January 8th, I had posted the image, from The Huffington Post, that is featured at the top of this  blog, on my own Facebook page.

I had written that I couldn’t believe my life-long Hero, David Bowie, was 69.

I had commented also on the release of his new album, Blackstar, and how, I couldn’t imagine that it could possibly be his Masterpiece, as in my view, that had happened a long, long time ago with Ziggy.

Two days later, on 10th January 2016, he had gone from us.

I sat in bed, the tears streaming down my face and let out a cry that seemed to come from my deepest, darkest place.

I wandered through to get some tea,  in a trance.

Rob saw me.

‘ Bowie? ‘ he said simply, and put his arms around me.

For anyone who really knows and loves me, knew how much I loved the man.

I’m in tears typing this.

And not everyone reading this will understand, except those of us in his Soul Family – for I know he has one.

I saw him perform many many times, but I never held a conversation with him.

And yet, the love is real, and as I well know, the price we pay for love is grief, when the loved one is gone.

For miss him, I do, and I always will.


‘ Are you over Bowie yet?’ A kind friend asked me last week.

‘ No,’ I replied. ‘ I never will be over him. Love isn’t like that. Love never leaves you. I will just have to  learn to adapt to life without him.’

But I so much preferred knowing David Jones was in the world with me. He made me feel so much less alone ( ‘ You’re not alone…give me your hands, you’re wonderful’ -Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide )

His leaving has made me feel older, sadder and bereft in a way that I find hard to express in words.

As I said to my three grown-up kids, I rarely say never, but in this case,  I can say with certainty that there will never be another musician like this one for me.

Someone who spoke to every side of me ; the intellectual, spiritual and musical sides, all at once. Whenever I wanted to be inspired, moved, made to think – there he was.

And yet whose music was so damn fine to dance to- and oh yes, I love to dance.

‘Let’s Dance – Put on your red shoes and dance the blues,’ ( Let’s Dance )

If you don’t want to get a groove on to Sound And Vision, then there’s really something wrong.  My dancing feet will thank him forever.

No other artist will ever, can ever, match up to him.

He affected my heart and soul with the beauty of his words and made my life immeasurably happier with his music.

The complete, most influential artist, and a humble, friendly, kind man.

In the end, that’s what counts, it’s what people remember the most.

It’s what marks out the deeply spiritual amongst us…how we know.

For the greatest people who ever live are always the most humble and ‘ ordinary.’ They know they are only fulfilling their place in the ‘ scheme of things.’ ( Word On A Wing )

A man who looked like an alien – which he had to do, to grab our attention and shake us up- yet who turned out to be one of the people to show us most completely, what it is to  be human.

And  he continues to inspire me, even now he’s gone.


I listened to Blackstar on the day of his death.

I was wrong on that Facebook post; it IS his Masterpiece.

‘ Look up here, I’m in heaven ‘ are the opening lyrics of the track, Lazarus.

No coincidence either that Lazarus, in the Bible story, rose from the dead.

Brother of Mary Magdalene,  raised from the dead by Jesus, because he believed. ( John 11, New International Version )

What a brave genius David Bowie was, ( how I hate using that past tense )  writing this music, rehearsing day after long day  in the studio, knowing he was dying.

Doing it all so  intensely- because he knew he was leaving. Didn’t have much time left.

In immense pain, yet still, sending final words and a message for his life, to comfort us.

His awesome courage saying  – if I can do it, so can you.

He did everything he set out to do in this lifetime, everything he promised. And more.

How many of us will be able to say the same?


And still, I listen to his wonderful, extraordinary music, at some point, every day.

There is a Bowie song for each variant of my mood, and even if I’m not in the mood for anything- I’m still in the mood for some Bowie.

My musical Hero with a golden heart- The Prettiest Star.

He took it all too far…but boy, could he play guitar. ( Ziggy Stardust )



All songs written and composed by David Bowie, except where noted.

Life On Mars



Five Years

Moonage Daydream

Ziggy Stardust

Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide

Drive-In Saturday

The Prettiest Star

Lady Grinning Soul

Young Americans

Station To Station

Word On A Wing

Wild Is The Wind ( Ned Washington, Dimitri Tiomkin )

Sound And Vision

Heroes ( David Bowie, Brian Eno )

Let’s Dance



The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars

Aladdin Sane

Station To Station



Let’s Dance


FILM: The Man Who Fell To Earth, directed by Nicolas Roeg

Last photos of David Bowie taken by Jimmy King


Amanda Hills 2016, All Rights Reserved






Music Was My First Love…

imageimage image I haven’t written my blog for quite a while- I know.

Life, and its vicissitudes have threatened to overwhelm me of late.

And it is summer, which I’ve always believed is for summering in.

But a new friend recently lent me such support and uttered such lovely words of encouragement in my ear, that I am inspired once more…so grazie mille Antonella.

The summer time is also the perfect time to reflect on the unique joy andimagegladness that music brings to the human spirit.

This post is a not -so – little journey through my musical past and present, because I am rarely happier than when listening , singing or dancing to music.

In fact, sometimes it feels so good it seems almost illegal.

And previous readers of my posts may have noticed that most of my Blog titles are also song titles.

As the song says : ‘ Music was my first love, and it will be my last. Music of the future, music of the past’.

‘I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words’ …now where have I heard that line before?

The first poster on my bedroom wall was of The Jackson Five.

I had seen them on Top Of The Pops and been captivated.

A very young Michael spun on his Cuban heels, smiled and fizzed for the camera and seemed to me to be possessed of something that very very few people ever are.

I was only about 6 or 7 myself, but those beats permeated my soul.

My love of music was born.

This was the era of the house party, and my parents were in the vanguard.

Saturday nights in summer were spent hanging over the bannisters with my brothers, listening to the chaotic- and sometimes bewildering- din of grown-ups at play, all set to the most fantastic soundtrack.

The Beatles and Dusty Springfield, ( to whom my aunt paid weekly homage with an enormous beehive ) The Rolling Stones and Donovan. Fleetwood Mac and Marianne Faithfull.

My parents were somewhat divided on the merits of The Beatles versus The Stones, with my mother preferring the former and my father the latter, although both were played at full volume in our house, and on repeat, if there was a new favourite, such as ‘Hey Jude’.

I come from a very musical family by any reckoning.

My maternal grandfather played the cornet and trained at The Military School of Music at Kneller Hall.

My father was in a band for my entire childhood and an amp and guitar stood permanently at the ready in the sitting room.

My mum sang like a nightingale, all the time, all around the house and both my father’s sisters played every musical instrument under the sun between them, including  the accordion, the piano and the harmonica.

Both aunts were church organists too, one of them always in residence whenever we went to church, so there was never a time that my life did not seem set to music of one kind or another.

Aged 8, I remember one of my aunts asking me to sing some notes for her while she sat at the piano one day.

Having been able, without any training or thought, to give her the required ‘ A’  and then ‘D’ when asked, I was informed I had ‘ perfect pitch’ -whatever that meant.

This isn’t something that I can be particularly proud of, since at least 1 in 3 of us have it, we have just forgotten that we have, or don’t remember unless tested!

I like to think that this lovely gift comes to us from where we were before we arrived here; a simpler and purer place where music is given the highest value and honour, and where we all sing in celestial choirs.

For I know of no greater pleasure than catching hold of  a new tune and starting to sing along to it, quite instinctively. It lifts the soul like nothing else.

So I absorbed all of this musical influence, even having some guitar lessons myself and having a go at The Faces ‘Maggie May’ on my dad’s electric guitar – although I wasn’t very good, my talents lying elsewhere!

The first single I ever bought was Nilsson”s ‘ Without You’.

Wildly popular, breaking records for the weeks spent at Number One, I played it to death in my bedroom, though it hasn’t stood the test of time for me and I wouldn’t choose to listen to it now.

My dad, never one to mince his words, referred to him as : ‘that whining moaner’.

Worse was to come.

For at 12,  I fell for my life-long passion- David Bowie.

I remember the night I first beheld him.

Top Of The Pops again, on a school night.

In an extraordinarily tight  multi -coloured jumpsuit, his carrot hair coaxed on end, his arm slung  around Mick Ronson as he sang ‘ Starman’ , he was launched on the nation.

I was, and remain, transfixed.

He caused quite the stir at school the next day, with the classroom divided into those who thought he was the second coming ( me ) and those who just couldn’t see the point of him at all.

My dad belonged in the second camp, although came around circa ‘ Space Oddity’ with the admission that it was ‘ not a bad song’.

Possibly the only cool thing I’ve ever done in my life, was to buy ‘ Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars’ as my first album.

And so it stays, played by me still, in my car and at home. In several formats, from vinyl to download, my favourite album of all time.

And I only have to hear those sweet opening riffs to be turning it up and singing every word.

For I know them all.

. ‘ Ziggy played guitar, jamming good with Weird and Gilly…’

And this will be played at my funeral ( sorry kids! )

So these were ‘ The Bedroom Years’.

Driving my parents crazy, though my mother showed great taste in not minding Randy Crawford’s ‘ Street Life’ belting out of my window daily. She still says it reminds her of me.

And I discovered George Benson too. My dad didn’t like him much either, complaining that he just doodly – da da da-ed up,and down the chords. He did like the fact that I had followed in his footsteps with a great liking for Rod Stewart and The Faces. ‘ Every Picture Tells A Story’ still being one of my favourite albums.

Luckily for his ear drums, I then went to boarding school, where the sounds of Mike Oldfield’s ‘ Tubular Bells’ sent us to sleep each night, though I couldn’t stand them!

I was too busy honing my early love of Motown and Soul music through the wondrous tones of The Isley Brothers, whose ‘ Summer Breeze’ was an anthem that year, and which will forever remind me of long lazy days spent by the river Wey with my best friend and bunk mate, Lesley.

Like all true loves, soul music is forever for me.

I played this just yesterday, and it is as fresh and clean as the day I first heard it, with lyrics so evocative and tender that if you haven’t got a ‘ smile waiting in the kitchen’ or ‘ curtains hanging in the window, in the evening, on a Friday night’ or ‘ cooking, on a plate for two’ you are apt to feel quite bereft.

In fact, on a Friday night in July, this song can still make me cry. And that is the mark of a truly great song.

So I turned 16 and discovered Funk.

There was a great little club in our tiny home town by the name of Frenchies.

It became so popular, that its fame spread nationally, attracting a very cool and diverse crowd.

They had fabulous visiting DJ’s, including the legendary Greg Edwards ( now a Facebook Friend, funny how life goes…I used to listen to his radio show as a teenager, whilst in the bath ahead of a night out! )

Specialising in Funk, Soul and Jazz, with a little Northern Soul thrown in, I had found a new home.

Every Sunday night we were there, and I became part of a little travelling group of Soul revellers known as ‘ Frenchies Funkfinders’.

We were on a mission to spread ‘The Funk’ via the likes of George Clinton and his ‘ Funkadelic’ Parliament, alongside Randy, Joe Sample, Maze, The Olympic Runners and of course, George Benson, whose version of ‘ Nature Boy’ remains as another anthem of my youth ( and is mentioned in my Blog: ‘ All You Need Is Love’ ) .

I have already written in a previous post about my discovery of The New Romantics and The Blitz Club, so  I won’t repeat, but will refer the keen reader back to said post : ‘ London Calling’, for details of that era!

Some of this back catalogue I find dated now, although I do still like a bit of Spandau Ballet when the mood is right. I’ve always liked Tony Hadley’s voice.

Following on from this era, I entered what I can only refer to as an ‘ existential ‘ phase.

Coinciding with my first flat-share, I was introduced, by people much more avant garde than I will ever be,  to Joy Division, Nick Cave and their ilk.

Not being one to usually enjoy wallowing in the darker side of life, this phase didn’t last very long, and on days when nothing but the sounds of nihilistic depressives filled the flat, I found comfort – as I always have – in my beloved Tamla Motown.

When it became time for me to have my own family, I never let a day go by that was not filled with music in some way, even if that music was sometimes ‘ the wheels on the bus’.

I like to think – and indeed, I hope- that as my parents did with me, that I may have helped to influence and shape my children’s musical  tastes.

From putting on their own little singing shows  ( East 17 being an early favourite with my eldest ) to trotting into Woolies to purchase their first records and CD’s, my three have always demonstrated as strong a love of music as I do.

All of them are involved in music and one is a professional drummer.

And now…

I like everything – as long as it is the best of its kind and it gets to my feet, heart or soul ( and even, more rarely, all three.)

My Spotify playlists demonstrate my eclectic tastes, and I love a mixture of the old and the brand new.

I never make any excuses or offer any defences for the music I love and choose to listen to, and I refuse to be defined by my generation, or what ‘ people like me’ SHOULD listen to.

I am a creature of instinct and go by my mood – or the mood I would like to be in – and if want to listen to Gangsta Rap, Hip Hop, a boy-band ( and yes I do ) or Opera- I will.

The beauty of Spotify ( which I believe To be one of THE best innovations for musical enjoyment ) is that I can listen to these one after the other if I so choose.

But most of all, I go back time and again to my very first loves…

Just this morning I played an old Bowie track, ‘ China Girl’ followed by some Bob Marley, Diana Ross, Van Morrison, Prince ( ‘Raspberry Beret’,  a summer favourite ) and, of course, Ella, whose voice is my idea of feminine perfection.

And then, because I had some mundane little domestics to do, but fancied a dance around first ( and my love of dancing is very well known, as described in my Post:  ‘Shall We Dance’ ) I put on Michael Jackson’s ‘ Smooth Criminal ‘ which to me, is still dance-floor heaven.

Genius in any art form is timeless.

Music to make us happy, music for when we are sad.

I shall end on the wise words of The O’ Jays ( and actually, this is a great track, might play it in a minute! )

‘ I love music, any kind of music

I love music, just as long as it’s groovin’.

I love music, Sweet, sweet music

Long as it’s swingin’

All the joy that it’s bringing.’

Go put a record on.

Copyright Amanda Hills 2015, All Rights Reserved.

‘ Maggie May ‘ Music & Lyrics by Martin Quittenton & Rod Stewart, performed by The Faces

‘China Girl ‘ Music & Lyrics by David Bowie & Iggy Pop

‘Starman’ by David Bowie

‘ Summer Breeze’ Music & Lyrics by Seals & Crofts, performed by The Isley Brothers

‘ Music Was My First Love’ by John Miles

‘ I Love Music’ performed by The O’Jays, Music & Lyrics by Gamble & Huff

‘ My Song’ by Elton John & Bernie Taupin

‘ Without You’ by Harry Nilsson

‘Smooth Criminal ‘ by Michael Jackson

‘ Street Life ‘ Music & Lyrics by Will Jennings & Joe Sample, performed by Randy Crawford

‘ Nature Boy ‘ by Eden Ahbez, performed by George Benson