Trollheart's Album Discography Reviews: David Bowie
 

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Time to kick off another thread, this time dedicated to a man who has done more to change music than possibly anyone else in rock, and whose passing almost five years ago now shocked the world, and not just the world of music. There never was, and there never likely ever will be a man like Mrs. Jones's little boy.

We'll kick off with one which is universally loved and highly rated.
For the most part, I found that I disagree.

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Station to Station (1976)


After the soul experimentation of Young Americans Bowie began looking back in a European direction, and though at this time he was in a very bad place, addicted to cocaine and other drugs, seeing hallucinations and living, apparently, in morbid fear of Jimmy Page (!) he still managed to put together one of his most significant albums, and one which would kickstart and presage the trio of albums to follow, which would become known as “The Berlin Trilogy”. This album would also cement the lineup that would carry him through the seventies and into the eighties, and would also give him more hit singles.

The title track kicks it off, and with typical Bowie usage of cliches in new ways there's the sound of a steam locomotive pulling into a station before Carlos Alomar's guitar wails in, creepy piano and then George Murray's thick bass pulls the track in, the vocal not coming in till a third of the way through the ten-minute opus. Bowie's first words are ”The return of the Thin White Duke”, the new persona, something of a carryover from his role in the movie The Man Who Fell to Earth, which would basically become the new Ziggy Stardust and would populate his albums for some time, also creating a stage persona for him. Some very nice restrained organ here till it suddenly kicks up the tempo about halfway and carries it through to the end. “Golden years” was a big hit, with its funky laid back rhythm and soft, almost crooned vocal, and after the energy of – at least the second half of – the title track it's a nice change of pace, and sort of harks back to the white soul of the previous album.

There's a lot of the soul from Young Americans, though a lot more restrained in “Word on a wing”, lovely song with a great piano line and some fine backing vocals; Bowie really does himself proud on the vocal here, pushing himself emotionally to the limit and indulging in some real spirituality, evidenced if nowhere else then in the almost angelic choral fade ending of the song. I've never been the biggest fan of “TVC15”. I know it's a popular song but it's always come across as a little weird to me, with its sort of honky-tonk piano line and sixties rock feel, to say nothing of the totally incomprehensible lyric: it's claimed that the song is about a TV set eating Iggy Pop's girlfriend, but I don't anything about that. The chorus is certainly catchy, even if it is just basically the title sung over and over. I feel the song overstays its welcome somewhat, becoming more or less a jam in the end. Nice to hear Bowie handling the sax himself instead of farming it out to the likes of David Sanborn, and he's pretty damn accomplished on it too. Good song, but not one of my favourites.

“Stay” I know nothing about. It certainly has a very funky, Bensonesque guitar opening with a throbbing bass and sounds like it may be one of the rockiest tracks on the album. Some great work on the frets by Carlos and the song itself, though rocky, has very much soul overtones to it, almost disco at times. Bowie has been quoted as saying that there is no emotion in this album, that even the love songs are disconnected, but I really don't see it, especially in a sublime ballad such as “Wild is the wind”, which closes the album. I'm amazed to find it's a cover of a Nina Simone track, as I had always assumed he wrote it (lyric sounds so much like something he would write) but you can't avoid facts. One of my favourite songs of his overall, and definitely in my top ten of favourite ballads from him. Love the big drum roll around the fourth minute. Beautiful song.

Track Listing

Station to Station
Golden Years
Word on a wing
TVC 15
Stay
Wild is the Wind


Almost unanimously, people rave about this as being Bowie's finest album, and while I do like it I don't agree. Firstly, it's only six tracks, and of them I know three already, so there was no massive surprise for me in this, my first listen to the album. Second, I feel there is no huge difference between this and other Bowie albums I have so far heard; I hear the change in styles beginning, yes, but it's hardly a seismic shift, not here. While the songs are all memorable and I most likely would listen to it again, I'm not compelled to any more than I would be to listen to, for example, Hunky Dory or The Man Who Sold the World. I don't get the love and adulation for this album.

That said, it was certainly the crossover point for Bowie to move into new and as yet uncharted territory, and as ever, he would be the one piloting the ship through his next famous three albums, pioneering new routes that others would follow in the years to come, and showing that, once again, nobody would ever be able to predict which way he would jump.

Rating: 7.5/10

Didn't you do something like this on your MB Classics threads?

Possibly. Who knows? Mostly it's taken from my Discography Project in my journal The Playlist of Life, which is, to all intents and purposes, dead now. It's just a chance to annoy those who have not followed the breadcrumbs into the forest and been trapped in Journal Land and make them read what I've written. :D

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The Man Who Sold the World (1970)


I'm told this was the album that began the “classic” Bowie period, and also served as his first steps into what would become glam rock and even heavy metal. It also kicks off the long association with the man who would become synonymous with his music, guitarist Mick Ronson. It certainly starts heavily enough, with a big feedback guitar which then powers into a whole hard rock groove recalling the likes of Purple and Free as well as T-Rex. Bowie's vocal when it comes in is harder too, somewhat bitter to a degree. There's some great riffing from Ronson and the piano has taken something of a backseat, as have the other acoustic instruments, such as the flute, recorder and acoustic guitar and indeed cello. Great smoking solo from Ronson as the song really takes off and Bowie is already reinventing himself. From the soft-spoken, somewhat shy raconteour of the last two albums, he's suddenly moving into the role he would describe on his fifth album as a “leper messiah”, and entreating - actually, ordering - us all to follow him on his magical, mysterious, magnificent journey as he explores the limits of his musical talent and creativity: limits which, we were to discover over forty-some years, hardly even existed.

Slowing down now in the middle with what I can only describe as a sawing motion on the guitar (Plankton or Chula or someone can explain it better I'm sure) and the whole song takes on an almost, again, messianic aura before it jumps into a blues groove recalling the twelve-bar blues of the likes of Quo and The Doors. Not quite sure how he managed to fit so much into eight minutes, but I'm exhausted already and it's only the first track! Slowing down again for the big finish, and into “All the Madmen”, on which we hear the return of the acoustic guitar, Bowie going back a little to the folk songs off the first two albums, Tony Visconti's flute piping up before Ronson shoulders all aside with a big nasty electric guitar barrage, leaning into Thin Lizzy territory at times (though this would have been before they developed that sound, so, once again, Bowie and his crew lead the way). The flute, somewhat incongruous but perhaps appropriate in a song about mad people jumps in again before Ronson hammers at the frets again to re-establish order.

Sounds like a violin there but may very well be the Moog, who knows? Answers on a postcard, or in a comment please. Fine group vocal in the closing chorus as it fades down and into “Black Country Rock”, with a deceptively gentle guitar taken out rather quickly by the snarling electric. Very thick bass line running through this, then in total contrast “After all” is a soft, gentle acoustic ballad (well, mostly acoustic) with some gospel-style singing in the backing vocalist department and an almost funereal aspect to it. There's a really nice ... I don't know what is is, sounds like a kazoo, probably Moog, riff running alongside the guitar at times, and a really angelic ending. Something of a manic vocal opening “Running Gun Blues” against an acoustic guitar then some heavy percussion fires the song into life (how the hell did he rhyme “rifle” with “disciple”?) and it becomes another hard rock bluesy thumper.

Another dystopian future explored in “Saviour Machine” with a sort of swaying rhythm and one of Bowie's best vocal performances in my opinion so far. This probably would have benefitted from orchestral backing, but the effects on the synth work nearly as well. Sweet solo from Ronson, augmented by a beautiful arpeggio on the keys, then it's back to hard rock and sexual innuendo (or not really even innuendo; it's pretty overt) with “She Shook Me Cold” before we hit the title track, and the only one I knew before I began this album. I've always loved the mysterious, enigmatic and somehow cold idea of a man selling the world, ever since I heard this on the back of my sister's single of “Life on Mars?” I have no idea what it's about, but the idea totally intrigues me, and the way it's played, that repeating guitar riff, the bossa-nova (?) rhythm, both incongrous and perfectly fitting the song, the lonely, haunted organ sound, to say nothing of the conversation between Bowie and the Man, all strike a real chord with me. Bowie says to him “I thought you'd died alone, a long long time ago?” and with a chuckle of pure malevolence the Man sneers, “Oh no, not me: I never lost control. You're face to face with the man who sold the world.” Freaky. Love the ending, the guitar riff fading out over the kind of mournful, desolate keening chant. Love that song.

That leaves us with “The Supermen” to take the album to its conclusion, and it's brought in on pounding, tumbling percussion with something akin to a continuation of the chant from the end of the title track, a sharp, almost spoken vocal from Bowie with a sense of African tribal chants mixed with gospel in the backing vocals while Bowie rants on and Ronson keeps a tight hold over the guitar for once. Well, for about half the song, then he lets rip with total abandon. Perfect closer.

TRACK LISTING

Width of a Circle
All the Madmen
Black Country Rock
After All
Running Gun Blues
Saviour Machine
She Shook Me Cold
The Man Who Sold the World
The Supermen

Definitely a heavier Bowie album than anything I've experienced up to now. I can see how it's seen as the one that began his career proper, as it were. The arrival of Mick Ronson puts a whole new slant on things, and while Bowie has been accused of not paying too much attention to the music due to being newlywed at the time, I don't see it reflected in what I heard here. But then, he was the consummate professional, and has refuted such allegations, and in the wake of his death I'm not about to bring them up again. Another fine album, looking forward to the next one.

Rating: 8.5/10

My good pal, Mark was the drummer on Blackstar and I have to admit, I love that album. I don't typically enjoy a lot of work by artists later in their careers as much as their early stuff, but Bowie is definitely one of those rare exceptions.

I don't mean to nitpick, because I'm sure I'll be reading this journal as it develops, but didn't you go a bit over the top with the
part?

No.

Er, I know some certain fans of four obscure guys from Liverpool that may beg to differ.

No. Oasis are shite.

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Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) (1980)


The album that would, after some definite chart success, return Bowie to the very top of his game, so much so that many people (including me at the time) had all but forgotten him before he burst into the number one spot with his updated “Space Oddity”, telling the tale of what had happened to Major Tom over a decade ago, in “Ashes to Ashes”. This would not be the only hit single from the album, which would itself power to the top in the UK and just edge below the top ten in the US, significant improvements on his last two albums.

Strangely enough, “It's No Game (Part 1)” has some Japanese bird singing in her native language as the album kicks off, but Bowie soon comes in with his inimitable vocal and the song is a mid-paced hard rocker whose melody owes rather a lot to Robert Palmer's “Addicted to Love”, with Robert Fripp racking out the riffs on the guitar. I have of course no idea what the Japanese lady - whose name is, according to Wiki, Michi Horata, but it means about as much to me as it probably does to you - is singing, but it kind of doesn't matter. I think Bowie is singing the translation anyway. The song ends with Bowie shouting angrily “Shut up!” and we're into a song I do know.

I'm not that well-versed in this album at all, but “Up the Hill Backwards” is one track I have heard, and again oddly it reminds me of Bucks Fizz (yeah) in the sort of slow marching melody of the verses. Bowie's vocal is either multitracked or there are backing vox supporting him all through the song, giving the singing a weird kind of full, echo effect. Strange. It's quite anthemic in a restrained kind of way, then breaks into guitar histrionics from Fripp, which are kind of worth the price of purchase on their own, even if for some mad reason you didn't like Bowie. Good, tight percussion from Dennis Davis, and the song is over too soon, taking us into the title track, which rocks along with a krautrock flavour, a touch of Eastern European in the main guitar riff in the chorus, and Bowie putting on a cockney accent which really adds to the song. Great fun; sort of puts me in mind stylistically of “Suffragette City”, not sure why...

Again, this song features some great rolling percussion from Davis that really drives it, another mad solo from Fripp and some solid acoustic guitar from producer Tony Visconti, who also adds his voice to the backing vocals. The big hit single sees us return to the days of Bowie's beginnings, with Major Tom returning to take him to number one for the first time in years as “Ashes to Ashes” lays down the marker and states in no uncertain terms that the Thin White Duke is back. A great idea with some wonderful touches in the song, including a sort of murmured choir that repeat the lines Bowie sings like a bunch of acolytes praying. A very freaky video, if I remember correctly. Great strong vocal from the man, and some nice guitar synthesiser popping all over the track, creating a very otherworldly feel and really making you believe you're standing on the surface of an alien planet. Well, it makes me feel that way.

Another hit then is up with “Fashion”, another stab at krautrock and perhaps a sly dig at himself , trendsetters and sheep maybe, the way people follow whatever's “in” at the time. A drum loop at the beginning perhaps a comment on how things go out of fashion and then come back in again, and the whole stupid cycle repeats itself, like a stuck record (oh, look it up!), as Fripp batters all in sight with his guitar riffs and soundscapes. Speaking of taking digs, the next track up sneers at the new wave kids, the likes of maybe Gary Numan, Fiction Factory and A Flock of Seagulls, as Bowie watches them ape the moves he pioneered in “Teenage Wildlife”. For me, the standout on the album, it's based quite heavily on the main melody to “Heroes”, but never sounds like a copy of that classic. Bowie is at his expressive best here singing, with the criminally-ignored-by-me Carlos Alomar making his presence felt in the absence of Fripp, and firing off an emotional and powerful solo, Roy Bittan doing a fine job on the piano, and the whole thing just flows so well that it really should have been a single. Mind you, it would have had to have been cut down considerably from its almost seven-minute running time. Could have been a huge hit though. Sorry, another huge hit. Love this track. Something like tubular bells or the like there near the end, with a kind of funky run on the piano and guitar too. Another superb solo from Alomar, and a fine punching drumbeat from Davis.

Hard to follow that maybe, and “Scream Like a Baby”, though a good track, doesn't quite cut it for me. There's nothing wrong with it necessarily, it's just that a song would have to be immense to be able to trump “Teenage Wildlife”, and this one ain't got the bus fare mate. It's a hard, grinding rocker with a snarly guitar line from Alomar and some pretty frenetic synth from Andy Clark, a dark, dystopian tale of a political prisoner, set in the future. Some very new-wave keys from Clark add a surreal feel to what is already a pretty out-there song, and some sort of baritone singing from Bowie pushes it even further. The only cover on the album then is Tom Verlaine's “Kingdom Come”, which sounds to me like it has the melody of Blondie's “Picture This” at the start, a very sixties/psychedelic vocal chorus , also including the line ” won't go breakin' no rocks” which makes me wonder if it was filched by Elton and Bernie for their song? Meh, it's ok but I'm not bowled over.

Pete Townsend puts in a star turn as he guests on “Because You're Young”, which has a very rock feel that brings to mind the work of The Edge - yeah well it does to me - a punchy, mid-paced track with some really nice synth work from Clark and a nice rockalong beat from Davis. Sort of a new wave keyboard behind the rocky guitar and Bowie, needless to say, delivers as ever a flawless performance. There's also a faint echo of Bruce Springsteen here in the vocal, I feel. The album then closes as it began, with “It's No Game (Part 2)”, a less frenetic rhythm this time, a restrained but firm guitar, and no Japanese singing. More great backing vocals, almost like a choir, and a last bow for Fripp before he departs for his home planet. Calm and reserved but still angry and powerful, and a good end to a really good album.

Track Listing

1. It's No Game (Part 1)
2. Up the Hill Backwards
3. Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)
4. Ashes to Ashes
5. Fashion
6. Teenage Wildlife
7. Scream Like a Baby
8. Kingdom Come
9. Because You're Young
10. It's No Game (Part 2)

It seems Bowie seldom if ever misses the mark, though I do remember being very disappointed with Never Let Me Down, which is rather ironic I guess. This album kicked off a series of successes for Bowie which I suppose in one way you could see as his comeback, though in truth he had never been away. But with hit singles from this and the next three albums, he would be in the public consciousness and on the radio for the next seven years, after which he would get into some more experimental stuff and kind of vanish off the radar commercially for about, well, another twenty-seven years, when he would burst back onto the scene, giving us one last treat before he left us, and showing us all once again how it was done, at the ripe old age of sixty-six.

As a first shot across the bows from the resurgent Bowie at the time, this album shows a man as ever brimming with creative ideas, energy and purpose, and certainly not content to rest on his laurels and fade into the background, counting his money and polishing his gold discs. After this period of activity, he would have a few more to add to his collection. And quite right too.

Rating: 9.6/10

That's an interesting thought considering Addicted To Love was released five years after Scary Monsters. :D

Not in my private universe it wasn't. I choose to believe what I was programmed to believe! :laughing: Ok ya got me.

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Heathen (2002)

Seen as Bowie's comeback album after a patchy period from 1984 onwards, Heathen was his biggest selling album for almost twenty years, and features some star guests such as Dave Grohl, Jordan Rudess and the legendary Pete Townshend performing on some of the songs. Although frequently linked with the attacks on New York in September 2001, Bowie has categorically denied any such link, at least any deliberate link, advising that all the songs were written before the attacks. His denial has not stopped critics lauding it though as perhaps as big a musical influence on 9/11 as Springsteen's The Rising.

You don't often find cover versions on Bowie's albums, but Heathen has three, of which more as we get to them. For now, the album opens on “Sunday”, a nice gentle easing into the album, with deep synth backing and Bowie's clear and unmistakable voice as ever in perfect nick. It's a very understated opening, almost a prequel to the album, and there's some weird but very effective sounds which I think may be an omnichord in the background, keeping pace with the synth. The drums come in hard right at the end, and the song then fades out too quickly I feel: just as it was getting going. Next one up is one of those covers I was talking about. It's the Pixies' “Cactus”, with acoustic guitar, little reminiscent of the arrangement for “Starman” before it picks up and electric kicks in, dramatic organ getting in on the act too. I'm not that familiar with the Pixies' work, but the song sounds ok. I'm not sure why an artiste of Bowie's calibre needs to include cover versions on his albums, but there you go. Maybe he likes the band.

Things slow down again and get all Eno-atmospheric for “Slip Away”, the longest track on the album at just over six minutes, with a very Ziggy-like vocal, nice Waits-style acoustic piano, choral vocals backing the thin white duke. This comes across to me as a very Roger Waters-era Floyd song, like maybe something out of The Final Cut, and it has a nice gentle but dramatic feel to it. Pete Townshend shows up to play some fine guitar on “Slowburn”, ironically a more uptempo track, and indeed the first fast one (of his own) on the album so far. There's a soul/jazz feel to this, created in part by the Borneo Horns, consisting of Lenny Picket, Stan Harrison and Steve Elson.

“Afraid” has a kind of fifties rock guitar with some nice keyboard work from Jordan Rudess, and some lovely strings, and is the second uptempo track, very catchy. It's Dave Grohl then who straps on the strat for Neil Young's “I've Been Waiting for You”, a mid-paced hard rocker with Bowie in more “Diamond Dogs” voice, then “I Would Be Your Slave” bops along in a slower, more stately vein with some beautiful violin and viola (there are two violinists and one viola player on the album, and a cellist) and some programmed drums which really suit the song. Things change totally then for the last cover, “I Took a Trip On a Gemini Spaceship”, by the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, a huge influence on Bowie's early career, and instrumental in the creation of Ziggy Stardust. The Borneo Horns are back in town, and there's some pretty good funky guitar too, lots of spacey sound effects and a very seventies disco feel to the song, though I think it may be from the sixties: can't confirm that though.

There's a slowing of pace then for the somewhat introspective (I know: one of my favourite words! Buy a thesaurus: I have one, but I don't like using it as it runs the batteries down!) “5:15 the Angels Have Gone” with some very “In the Air Tonight”-style moaning keyboards from Rudess, and some gentle piano. The pace kicks up a little then for the semi-balladic “Everyone Says Hi”, with some really smooth strings arrangements, Bowie's voice very soft and restrained in a musical postcard song, and “A Better Future” is a pleasant rock/pop song, with bright, happy keyboards, an infectious bassline and again Bowie singing in a sort of intoned way. The album then ends on the title track, and “Heathen (The Rays)” veers between downbeat synthpop and a guitar riff out of “Rebel Rebel”, with Bowie at his impassioned and tortured best.

It's clear to see why this was his best-received album since 1984. It's a lot more commercial and accessible than the likes of Outside, Earthling, Never Let Me Down or Black Tie White Noise, or indeed the two Tin Machine albums. It's got some near-classics on it, and even though it's almost perfectly crafted music, it's evidence - if any were needed - of an artist who does this effortlessly and flawlessly, almost as an afterthought. A man who can create beautiful music that lasts the test of time hardly without thinking about it. It's instinctive, it's natural, it's second nature. It's David Bowie, and this is one great album that returns him to the top of the tree, where he belongs, and always has done.

TRACK LISTING

1. Sunday
2. Cactus
3. Slip Away
4. Slowburn
5. Afraid
6. I've Been Waiting for You
7. I Would Be Your Slave
8. I Took a Trip On a Gemini Spaceship
9. 5:15 the Angels Have Gone
10. Everyone Says Hi
11. A Better Future
12. Heathen (The Rays)

Rating: 9.0/10

And back to the very start we go, 55 years back in time...
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David Bowie (1967)

This debut album - the first time I've heard it - is said to be far different from even his first “real” album, Space Oddity and a world removed from his later material, but all of this goes to show how much of a constantly changing personality he became, both musically and emotionally, and how he could not only tap into the latest trends as his fame grew, but also set them. Even today, with a catalogue of almost thirty albums to his credit and nearly five decades in the music business, people are still copying him, finding inspiration in his style and remembering what an incredible influence he was on them. The term “musical chameleon” seems to have been coined for him, and it certainly suits him.

But back in 1967 things were a lot different, and the young David Jones, who had changed his name to avoid confusion with the Monkees' famous star, was about to not quite burst upon the scene, but deliver an album that was not quite like anything that the world had seen before. With a mix of music styles and themes that can only really be described as “eclectic”, it opens on a sort of folky tune which owes much to Syd Barrett's Pink Floyd. “Uncle Arthur” tells the tale of a Peter Pan figure who “still reads comics” and “follows Batman”; perhaps, the eternal child in all of us, which we mostly silence when we reach adulthood. As Kipling once wrote: “When I was a child I played as a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things”. Yeah, but we all know that from time to time we love reverting to our childhood a little, don't we, even if it's only in the privacy of our own bedrooms or with a bunch of mates who feel the same, or if we're drunk enough. Uncle Arthur, it would seem, has no such hangups and, though we're not told his age (we do know it's over thirty-two), delights in all the childish things he did when he was so much younger.

The song runs on a simple guitar line with harmonica and flutes, ethnic in its way but very sixties rock and roll too, and already betraying in the lyric the tongue-in-cheek ideal Bowie would imbue much of his songwriting with. A real trip. “Sell Me a Coat” has more Beatles about it, driven on a trumpet or trombone, again quite folky and showcasing a voice which even now you could tell was something special. Nice strings arrangement and it's still uptempo though a little more restrained than the opener. The first single then, “Rubber Band” marches along on a tuba line, again sounds very Beatles to me. Very strong vocal from Bowie and some almost Mariachi style trumpet; though the song is upbeat the theme is very downbeat and it's a song of reflections and regrets. The line “I hope you break your baton!” delivered with venom at the leader of the band of which his girl is now part again shows the humour and quasi-sexual innuendo Bowie employed in his songs all through his life.

“Love You Till Tuesday” is probably the best example of a rock song on the album so far, but has a sweeping strings line too. Very brisk and breezy and upbeat with what sounds like xylophone and with another little sardonic nod as he admits at the end “Well I might stretch it to Wednesday!” Lovely piano and trumpet opening “There is a Happy Land”, a slower, more laidback piece which runs on an acoustic guitar motif and looks to the innocence of childhood, something of a theme to the album so far. Not really that surprising, as Bowie's many alter-egos down the decades always spoke of a man if not quite avoiding reality, then turning it to his own version of what he wished it to be. The relating of children's antics looks somewhat forward to Peter Gabriel's hit “Games Without Frontiers”, while “We Are Hungry Men” opens on a news report with various accents (Indian, Chinese) as Bowie worries about overpopulation of the world. A dark organ line runs through this, alongside the acoustic guitar and peppered by trumpet as Bowie asks “Who will buy a drink for me, your messiah?” Though it's a semi-comedic song there are dark overtones, as he references cannibalism and infanticide, and in ways again this also harks forward to his own dystopian masterpiece some years later, Diamond Dogs. The sounds of someone eating at the end just underlines the dark humour in the song.

“When I Live My Dream” is a simple fantasy, a soft ballad which envisages castles and princesses and dragons, with a lovely strings accompaniment again adding a real gentle sway to the song. I suppose the two songs are polar opposites, with one envisaging the end of the world while this basks in ignorance and dreams, the ignorance of someone in love. Reminds me of some of the material from the very first Genesis album, then “Little Bombardier” is a brass-driven waltz, very oldstyle with the very embryonic beginnings of the main melody from “Ziggy Stardust” as well as a nod to the theme from Alfred Hitchcock! Some lovely sweeping strings in the midsection, and the lyric betrays a link to paedophilia, or the suspicion of it anyway when he sings “Then two gentleman called on him, asked him for his name. Why was he friends with the children? Were they just a game? Leave them alone or we'll get sore: we've had folks like you in the station before!”

A slow, stately pace then for “Silly Boy Blue”, in contrast to the romping tempo of the previous, then back to folky, almost CSNY style for “Come and Buy My Toys” (again referencing children) , with some great fast acoustic guitar before “Join the Gang” explores darker territory, looking into peer pressure and the burgeoning mod scene, but with an almost bluegrass feel to it and some boppy piano. “You won't be alone” he promises, before winking “It's a big illusion but at least you're in!” The motorbike/scooter effects sound more like someone with a bad case of wind, if I'm honest, and I think that was intentional, yet another joke. A warbling flute and accordion open “She's Got Medals” before it marches along in again very Beatles fashion with an uptempo piano and organ. Interesting vocal harmonies, also interesting that at this early stage Bowie is already pushing female figures to the fore: talk about leading the way. This continues in “Maid of Bond Street” with a whirling piano and a bouncing rhythm. A short song, and it leads to the closer where dark pealing bells and rumbling thunder aptly usher in the very weird “Please Mr. Gravedigger” which features an acapella vocal from Bowie against falling rain, including a very funny sneeze and “Oh! Excuse me!” giving the real impression of the guy standing in the rain by a graveside singing this lament. Then we hear that he is there because he is the murderer of the girl being buried, and since he's inadvertently confessed his crime to the hapless gravedigger, it's time the guy went in one of his own graves!

TRACK LISTING

Uncle Arthur
Sell Me a Coat
Rubber Band
Love You Till Tuesday
There is a Happy Land
We Are Hungry Men
When I Live My Dream
Little Bombardier
Silly Boy Blue
Come and Buy My Toys
Join the Gang
She's Got Medals
Maid of Bond Street
Please Mr. Gravedigger

I really expected, this being his debut and so long ago, and so supposedly different from the material I know him for, that I would be very lukewarm in my reception of this, but I have to say I'm mightily impressed. There's nothing on this I don't like, and to think he was able to come up with songs of this calibre, and such a varied selection, crossing genres and styles at such an early age, marks Bowie already out as one to watch. An incredibly impressive debut.

Rating: 8.8/10

Okay, time to get serious. Let's look into the famous Berlin Trilogy.

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Low (1977)

After a debilitating cocaine habit was destroying him, Bowie decided to leave LA and head back to Europe. He wanted to go somewhere where he would not be recognised and could lead a relatively normal life while he tried to recover, and Berlin turned out to be that place. Thus he lived there for two years with Iggy Pop and Tony Visconti, crafting three albums over that period which would become known as his “Berlin Trilogy”. This was the first of those.

A snarling, punching guitar rocks things up right away as we open with “Speed of Life”, Eno's weird little synth soundscapes already making their presence felt in the background of the melody and Bowie's own sax making an early showing. It's a powerful little upbeat instrumental that gives you the sense of someone just going for it and doing what he wants to do musically, no longer constrained by any preconceptions or expectations. Most of the songs on this album are short, very short, and “Breaking Glass” is no exception, clocking in at less than two minutes with a striding rock beat and the genesis of his take on Krautrock; even his vocal sounds a little robotic here at times. Have to wonder if he's talking autobiographically when he sings ”You're such a wonderful person/ But you got problems!” There's barely time really to acknowledge this track though before we're into more Krautrock (I think: I know very little of the genre and am going a lot here on what others, people who know a lot more about this than I do, have written on the subject) with “What in the World”, another fast uptempo and basically cheerful track.

I definitely get the feeling (probably just me but there you go) of someone taking a deep breath after being underwater for so long that they believed they must drown, coming up for air and realising the world is a place they still want to live in. There's certainly an effort to suppress emotion in the vocal, to make it more inhuman, mechanical and deadpan, despite the boppy music. “Sound and Vision” is one of his great hits, basically mostly driven on the one riff and with a vocal that ranges from the falsetto to the baritone (maybe; I'm not that knowledgeable about vocal ranges either, but it goes from high to low) and there is actually very little to the lyric, making the song not quite an instrumental but not that far from it. Some snarly guitar and growling sax, then Bowie's voice comes in and asks ”Don't you wonder sometimes?” A sort of descending synthline also accompanies the main melody, perhaps representing high to low?

The kind of stabbing keyboard chords that would later characterise new wave and electronic music introduce “Always Crashing in the Same Car” with what sounds like horn accompaniment, but given the amount of weird instruments being used here (and with Eno in attendance) it could be anything. Nice sort of almost dreamy feel to this, following on from the slower “Sound and Vision” and keeping things basically mellow; a very low-key and relaxed vocal from Bowie. Kicking things up a bit more then with “Be My Wife”, some wailing guitar and chunky synth with a relatively simple lyrical idea. Another very new-waveish (as it would become) instrumental, with added harmonica, “Another Career in Another Town” could also be said to be semi-autobiographical, or at least descriptive of Bowie's attempts to kick his habit and make the music he wanted to.

A big, doomy church organ sound opens “Warszawa”, a very dark ambient piece. The album is basically divided into two sections, the first (originally the first side of the record) consisting of short, more or less straight rock pieces and short instrumentals, while the second side is devoted to deeper, longer and more introspective ambient instrumental pieces, mostly. In the fourth minute of “Warszawa” Bowie kind of chants something across the melody but I've no idea what it means, or if it's actually meant to be Polish, or indeed anything at all. It does add to the atmosphere, though I personally think the piece would have served better as a true instrumental. Nevertheless, it's more or less accepted that this is where Low really begins to come into its own, where Bowie, and Eno, stretch their musical muscle and engage their creativity to produce something really special.

“Art Decade” has a kind of ticking percussion, a version of which would surface three years later on Genesis's Duke album, though Collins would use a drum machine to recreate the sound. There's a really nice sort of climbing, rising melody in this, the soft percussion really complementing the melody, with some other odd little Enoesque sounds thrown in too, and a vague feeling of early Yes there too, as well as hints of Vangelis. Xylophone and vibraphone really get utilised in “Wailing Wall”, very soft electronic, again reminds me of Vangelis around his Mask period, and quite oriental in sound too. It's almost an exercise in expressionism in music. The guitar certainly wails in counterpoint, then a synth begins its own deeper moan, and all of this fades out and leads us into the closer.

Originally written as part of his aborted soundtrack for the movie The Man Who Fell to Earth, “Subterraneans” has a dark, eerie and yet quite beautiful feel to it. Driven on what sounds like violin, a high, sighing synth line and a slow, measured bass, it's mournful and moving, with a low vocalise from Bowie occasionally sifting through it, more a kind of hum really. Some rather unexpected sax and a vocal line near the end places the final seal on the piece and brings the whole album to a very satisfying conclusion.

Track Listing

Speed of Life
Breaking Glass
What in the World
Sound and Vision
Always Crashing in the Same Car
Be My Wife
Another Career in Another Town
Warzsawa
Art Decade
Weeping Wall
Subterraneans


I had a few run-ins with this album originally. When much much younger my boss (a huge Bowie fan) lent it to me and I was somewhat underwhelmed. I guess at that time (I would have been maybe 17 or 18) I had no real appreciation of music and I thought of Bowie in terms of his singles, so I liked "Sound and Vision" and that was it. The album mostly bored me. Later, I tried it again for my Classic Albums I Have Never Heard journal and liked, and appreciated and understood it a lot more. Here, I'm sort of backing up the second listen, as it were, but in a more detailed way. Suffice to say, I now see why this is regarded as one of Bowie's most important albums, and I'm glad I took the time to listen to it and experience it as it should be.

Rating: 8.5/10

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"Heroes" (1977)

Second in the “Berlin Trilogy” and the only one of the three to be actually recorded in Berlin, about five hundred yards from the Berlin Wall, this album yielded Bowie one of his most famous and iconic and successful singles in the title track. It also featured the first contributions of King Crimson's Robert Fripp, and continued Bowie's exploration of Krautrock and ambient sounds and textures.

We kick off on what would become the first single, but be far eclipsed by the second, and “Beauty and the Beast” seems to me something of a predecessor to later tracks like “Scary Monsters” and “Fashion”, with a thumping beat and a sense of bouncy melody, the vocal somewhat harsh and almost metallic at times. Fripp's guitar growls and squeals here, lending the song a very rocky aspect, and it's far more uptempo than the previous album from the outset. High-pitched almost screaming backing vocals contrast nicely with Bowie's lower register, and though the song is a shade repetitive it's a good opener. Guitar also drives “Joe and the Lion”, reminding me more of elements from Aladdin Sane and Ziggy Stardust. Bowie's vocal is a little more tortured here, kind of howling at times, more sort of odd backing vocals and a fine solo, and we're into the standout on the album, the title track and the one everyone has heard at one time or another. I really don't think I need to describe “Heroes”, so I won't. It's one of my alltime favourite Bowie songs, and if you don't know it, then get out from under that rock and go listen to it: you'll be doing yourself a massive favour.

“Sons of the Silent Age” has a vaguely Arabic flavour to it, opening for once on horns and not guitars, and reminds me a little of “Drive in Saturday”, a slow song that seems for once to capture Bowie's cockney London accent at the start, before he ascends into a “grander”, more classic Bowie vocal for the chorus, backed this time by a more Beach Boys style vocal. There's certainly a few smatterings of progressive rock in this too, and a kind of look back to the likes of Sinatra and Bennett in the almost lounge-like singing. By contrast, “Blackout” is an uptempo rocker, again guitar-centric, recalling the best of Mick Ronson, with a pretty anarchic vocal by Bowie, the lyric spat out in rapid-fire mode for much of the song. There's a real edge of funk to it, quite a danceable tune I would expect, though I wouldn't class it as one of my favourites on the album. A thick, pulsing bass introduces “V2-Schneider” with a great horn section and some echoing guitar, very much continuing the uptempo mood from the previous song. Seems to be an instru – oh no wait: he's singing the title, but that appears to be the only vocal on it, so essentially, yeah, an instrumental and it leads into the dark bassy piano of the ominous “Sense of Doubt”, definitely recalling the darker, later moments on Low, particularly “Warzsawa”, and again an instrumental, so that generally speaking the two albums seem to have followed the same pattern, that is, bouncy (mostly) uptempo rockers on side one, and darker, more atmospheric instrumentals forming the bulk of the second side.

Another instrumental then, but as different to “Sense of Doubt” as it is possible to be, and segeuing directly into that, “Moss Garden” features a koto, a Japanese string instrument that sounds to me something like a cross between a sitar and a mandolin, and is very pastoral and relaxed, with obviously a very oriental feel, almost giving you the image of sitting in a garden (duh!) listening to the birds and the grass and just drinking it all in. There's also an ethereal high synth line floating above everything with some wind effects thrown in too, and this track then fades in to the last of the three instrumentals, “Neuköln”, which is perhaps the most ambient of the three pieces, almost expressionism really, with a dark synth line and squealing sax throughout the track, a deep sense of loneliness and melancholy pervading the whole thing. We end then on “The Secret Life of Arabia”, where we again hear the vocals of Bowie, a mid-tempo song with some good backing vocal work. It's a decent song, but I tend to agree with David Buckley, one of Bowie's biographers, when he says the last, haunting, droning notes on Bowie's sax that end “Neuköln ” should really be the final sound on the album, and this sounds slightly out of place in a way. It also fades out in a rather unsatisfying way.

Track Listing

Beauty and the Beast
Joe the Lion
“Heroes”
Sons of the Silent Age
Blackout
V2-Schneider
Sense of Doubt
Moss Garden
Neuköln
The Secret Life of Arabia

Like I said, basically a continuation of Low – possible even to dub this Low part II – but no weaker for that. The addition of Fripp works well, and Bowie is certainly at this point getting to grips with the saxophone parts. The album (or at least, the second side) drips with the shadow of the oppression of the Berlin Wall, and you can only imagine what it must have been like recording in the lurking presence of that massive, dominating symbol of the Cold War at its worst. It would probably have been a mistake to try to make this a more upbeat album than Low, so generally speaking Bowie doesn't try, but continues the themes explored in the first of the Berlin Trilogy.

Rating:8.9/10

All righty. Let's finish off this Berlin trilogy, shall we? Yes. Yes we shall. And here is how we shall do it.

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Lodger (1979)

The last of the so-called “Berlin Trilogy”, this album is viewed as one of Bowie's least accessible and least successful, despite its high chart placing, at least in the UK. It would also spell the end of his association with Brian Eno. In recent times it has become recognised as one of Bowie's more underappreciated albums, and attitudes towards it have changed. Speaking of changing, this album would see the beginnings of a new direction for the Thin White Duke, as he explored world music and more political themes.

I must admit, the opener “Fantastic Voyage” puts me in mind of nothing more than his later hit “Absolute Beginners”. Nice song, quite laid back with a cool little piano line, and a very reserved and more soulful vocal than much of the previous Berlin albums. You can hear the political elements in his lyrics already here as he talks about ”shooting off missiles”. I can detect the kind of Bowie that we would know by the time albums like Let's Dance and Tonight rolled along. A lot less experimental, I feel, which is odd, given that the page for this album says it was full of experiments – oh, well “African Night Flight” is totally experimental, very industrial with metallic sounding keys and a rapid-fire (and I mean rapid) vocal from Bowie, spoken almost in a murmur at times. Kind of almost an embryonic Madness at times! :laughing: The world music influences are clearly evident here, with added African chants, but I can't really say I like this track. It certainly stands out, anyway. Next up is “Move On”, which has a very rocky beat, almost fifties rockabilly at times, Bowie dropping into the lower vocal register for this. Apparently it's “All the Young Dudes” played backwards in parts: yeah, I can hear it, in the chorus I think. Africa gets namechecked again.

Reggae gets the Bowie treatment next in “Yassassin” (possibly presaging young pretender Gary Numan's later “I, Assassin”?) with a very eastern flavour running through it; you could imagine Bowie standing in the desert doing that Egyptian dance while singing this. Maybe. Krautrock returns for “Red Sails”, very upbeat and rocky with a real emergent new wave feel to it, some excellent guitar. Very catchy tune, like this one a lot. “DJ” was one of the four singles taken from the album, and again I hear “Fashion” in here with what sounds like bits of the Bee Gees (don't ask me which bits!). I know this song all right, good single, kind of sounds more like Ziggy era to me really. Another good one too, good sense of funk in the guitar while the synth seems more in the new-wave mode of things. Great vocal performance from the man, and then “Look Back in Anger” kind of passes me by but sounds like a decent pop song, while we probably all know his ode to being a man in “Boys Keep Swinging”, with its faux-fifties feel and crazy chorus.

“Repetition” is, well, repetitive, but intentionally so, and sung with zero emotion, again intentionally as it's about domestic abuse, very hard-hitting musically, and again “Red Money” gives me that “Fashion” feeling, very uptempo, great guitar, and it sounds a little familiar. I see now this is because it appeared in a different form on Iggy Pop's The Idiot. Indeed.

Track listing

Fantastic Voyage
African Night Flight
Move On
Yassassin
Red Sails
DJ
Look Back in Anger
Boys Keep Swinging
Repetition
Red Money

In a similar way to how I don't get why people rate Station to Station so highly, I'm not quite sure why this album gets so much hate. It's not perfect by any means, but it's not the bottom of the heap either. In fact, I pretty much like everything here. It's different, yes, but a good different and points the way to Bowie's next adventure, which would expand on the world music themes but at the same time lean in perhaps a more commercial direction, unsurprisingly giving him more hit singles.

Rating: 8.2/10

Actually. Lodger is my favorite album of the Berlin Trilogy (and third favorite Bowie album overall) as it's easily the most consistent. He got airplay in the States but, honestly, he didn't really break into the top 40 mainstream here until Let's Dance which might tell you about the taste of the American public :laughing:

The Next Day (2013)
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Note: This was originally written on its release, so some of what I say about Bowie's comeback and so forth rings a little hollow and tragic, but what can I tell you? My TARDIS was in the shop again, and I didn't know what we were facing down the very short road.

When this hit, nobody had any clue that we would only have three more years of this extraordinary artist on this planet. Everyone, myself included, believed Bowie finished when he released his last album, Reality ten years previous to this. An intensely private man, it was just naturally assumed that the Thin White Duke had retired, and who would blame him, after a star-studded career spanning five decades (six now) and over twenty albums, many of them becoming icons in the world of rock, tons of hit singles and almost reinventing music single-handedly? Surely the guy must be tired, approaching his sixties?

But little did we know that for the last two years Bowie had been secretly working on a new album, a comeback album that would show any critics that he was far from finished, and delight his fans with new material and a fresh approach. Criticism has been levelled at the artwork for the cover, and though I've read the explanations I do have to agree mostly: sure, it "subverts" the classic album Heroes, as Tony Visconti, producer and spokesman for Bowie points out, but still, it does look ... what's the word? Oh yeah. Crap.

Happily though, what's under the cover bears no resemblance to the artwork, and this album brims with freshness, energy and a new purpose. The title track kicks it off, with an uptempo rocker which sort of reminds me from the off of "Diamond dogs", with its striding, swaggering rhythm and its somewhat dark lyric - "Here I am, not quite dead/ My body left to rot in a hollow tree" - and some screaming guitar, Bowie's vocal rising and almost desperate as he recounts the story of apparently the capture and trial of some unnamed despot, lyrically similar to Dire Strait's "The Man's Too Strong". There's great energy in the song, almost a carnival atmosphere, a joyous celebration of liberation, while "Dirty Boys" is just, well, dirty. Thick, sleazy baritone sax from Steve Elson and snarling guitars in an almost Waitsesque discordant melody; much slower than the opener, smoky and grinding with Bowie at his bad-boy best.

The tempo then picks up for "Stars Are Out Tonight", a boppy, almost pop song with a great hook, a driving bass line from Gail-Ann Dorsey and some sparkling piano almost sprinkled over the tune. Rising strings orchestration helps to build the atmosphere as Bowie blurs the line between the stars in the sky and celebrities - "We will never be rid of these stars/ But I hope they live forever". But it's the krautrock of "Love is Lost" that for me takes the prize as standout - and there are many contenders here. The deep, moody feel of it contrasts starkly with the previous track, and indeed most of the others so far. A droning synth leads the melody with great basswork again from Dorsey, and snapping, growling guitar cutting in from time to time courtesy of Gerry Leonard. I think Bowie himself plays the keyboard here, and it certainly holds court over everything else, its powerful, insistent almost church-organ sound anchoring the melody. The only complaint I have about this song is that it's not longer; at just under four minutes it seems over far too quickly.

Another contender comes in the shape of the first ballad, and indeed the lead single released off the album. With a beautiful, wistful laidback feeling recalling the classic "Life on Mars" and "Five Years", it's a beautiful piece of music with a slow, dreamy feel and Bowie's voice almost cracking with emotion as he asks the question that titles the song, "Where Are We Now?" Bass this time supplied by Tony Levin, it's understated but certainly experienced, and the orchestration is just lovely, with some fine piano from Henry Hey adding a delicate touch to the song. Just superb. Many of the songs on this album are written as if Bowie is looking through someone else's eyes, seeing the world from their viewpoint, and "Valentine's Day" is certainly one such, with the chilling opening line "Valentine told me who's to go" in the tale of a high school shooter. A tricky subject to tackle, given recent events, but Bowie was never one to play it safe or shy from controversy, and the clever title could confuse many (as it did me initially) into thinking the song was a love song written for February 14th.

It's a mid-paced rocker with understated guitar and a calm vocal for the most part from Bowie, the guitar getting a little more histrionic near the end, the tempo kicking up then for "If You Can See Me", with an almost rushed vocal, the song quite frenetic in its composition, sounding a little like an Arabic chant or something at the opening, then throwing in some almost progressive rock influences (reminds me of Arena at their best), not too much in the way of pausing in the vocal. The melody too stays pretty constant, not changing too much until the middle eighth leading to the chorus. It's not one of my favourites, and truth to tell there are songs on this album I'm not totally gone on; it's not perfect, but it's a whole lot better than a lot of albums I've heard recently. The good definitely outweighs the bad in my opinion.

Seeing through the eyes of another again, Bowie this time inhabits the body of a soldier as he bemoans his fate, wishing he were at home. "I'd Rather Be High" couldn't have a more simple title and will certainly appeal to a section of the younger listenership, who would agree wholeheartedly with his sentiments, but even at that, there's more of a message in the song than just the wish to be stoned. As Bowie sings he talks about "Training these guns on those men in the sand", and while I originally believed this to be a reference to soldiers in Iraq or Afghanistan, Visconti has confirmed it's actually a soldier in World War II that he's singing about. No matter: it's probably a sentiment universal to those who have to put themselves in harm's way. Great military drumbeat from Zachary Allford, and a sitar-style guitar riff running through the song, taking us into "Boss of Me", with the return of that dirty baritone sax from the second track. It's a little jazzy for my tastes, but not a bad song. Much better though is "Dancing Out in Space", where Bowie revisits his sixties persona, allying it to an eighties britpop rhythm and melody, a very busy song with elements even of country in there, reminds me a little of the Waterboys or even Bon Jovi at times. Yeah, sue me, you don't own my head! ;)

Maybe David Byrne is a better comparison; it's sort of hard to make it though because there's quite a lot going on as I said in this track and it kind of changes as it goes along. Great little track though, and it's followed by "How Does the Grass Grow", which comes in on distorted guitar and borrows just a little from the main riff in Floyd's "Echoes", with a kind of staccato rhythm for the verses then an almost Elton John feel in the la-la-la-la chorus. Great bit of guitar there from Gerry Leonard, kind of crashing through the melody. Things stay mostly fast for the rock-and-roll, almost "Rebel Rebel" intro to "You Will Set the World on Fire", with some great vocal harmonies and a hook to die for. One more beautiful ballad before we close, with the gospel "You Feel So Lonely You Could Die", a real triumph for Bowie, almost spiritually uplifting in its power, and again a sense of "Five Years" in the melody I find. One of his most arresting vocal performances on this song, and I love the way he doesn't have to make every line rhyme with the previous: real poets or lyricists don't feel that need. If the lines are good enough and evoke the right feelings and images, why should they have to rhyme?

Wonderful performance by Janice Pendarvis on the backing vocals, really makes the song come alive. We close then on the dark, doomy, almost claustrophobic "Heat", a slice of musical dystopia on which Bowie is backed by minimal instrumentation and makes his voice the main instrument, almost crying the vocal, the band mirroring his melancholia in the melody that backs him. The song virtually screams in torture at you, like some inmate of an asylum trying to break out of their cell by sheer force of will. It's a bleak, angry, desolate and powerful ending to the album, taking you by surprise after the uplifting nature of the previous track.

TRACK LISTING

1. The Next Day
2. Dirty Boys
3. The Stars are Out Tonight
4. Love is Lost
5. Where Are We Now?
6. Valentine's Day
7. If You Can See Me
8.I'd Rather Be High
9. Boss of Me
10. Dancing Out in Space
11. How Does the Grass Grow?
12. You Will Set the World On Fire
13. You Feel So Lonely You Could Die
14. Heat

I admit, this album took a little getting into, but each time I spun it I got to like it more and more. There are still tracks on it that don't appeal to me, but as I said they're very much in the minority. It's also great value, from a purely financial point of view, with fourteen tracks, and more if you buy the special editions. There are some great classic Bowie moments on the album, some new influences and some great imagery, but then, you'd expect nothing less from this man, would you?

It's certainly been worth a ten year wait, and while I'm not one of those who could point to Bowie's Berlin period and tell you all about it, or own all his albums, I know enough about him to know that this album is going to rank right up there with the best he has done in his long and successful career. Like the twelfth track says, this album is quite likely to set the world on fire, and even if it doesn't, there's one inescapable conclusion that nobody can miss: the Thin White Duke is back.

Rating: 9.2/10

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Hunky Dory (1971)

Notes: From what I can see, this was the first album on which Bowie produced, albeit as a co-producer. Weirdly, though the mega-classic “Life on Mars” was released from this as a single, it didn't chart until 1973, a full year after Ziggy, when it hit the number three slot. It's now of course recognised as not only one of his best and most well-known songs, but one of the greatest songs of at least the seventies, if not the century. (Certification needed? Suck it pal. Everyone knows this song! Oh look! Someone over there is using an uncited source! Quick!)

In retrospect, this should have been the album to break Bowie as far as I can see, with future classics such as “Oh! You Pretty Things”, “Life on Mars” and of course the opener, “Changes”, which pretty much describes his attitude towards trends and convention. With a lovely opener piano line from Rick Wakeman, it alternates between a slow, almost melancholy, soul style and a more uptempo, poppy chorus with that famous “Ch-ch-ch-changes” prefacing each lines of same. It's a great opening track, and of course was a single. You can hear here how Bowie's voice is developing, becoming stronger, more self-assured and confident, and the low sax break at the end (delivered by the Thin White Duke himself) just underlines this. Another piano line, almost honky-tonk this time, brings in “Oh! You Pretty Things”, with a definite sense of gospel in it, again a slow verse with a fast, joyful chorus, kind of marching along in a Beatles vein, though it's probably debatable that John, Paul, George and Ringo would have been singing about the “Homo Superior”...

The first flash we get of Ronson's brilliance on this album is in the opening to “Eight Line Poem”, where he delivers a soft bluesy intro, low-key and understated but really powerful, joined by Bowie on piano and a really soft vocal, almost inaudible at times, at others rising to a height of passion in a few words. Sounding a little like something Roger Waters would later produce, both on his own solo work and with the latter years of Pink Floyd, it sashays along gracefully, only the barest riffs from Ronson touching the edges and taking the short song out as it began. A masterclass of minimalism, that still manages to grab your heartstrings and pull them till it hurts.

If there's anyone who needs a description of “Life on Mars”, please go back to your home planet. There can't be a person on this Earth who has not heard the sublime opening piano line from Wakeman, leading into the soft, cultured vocal from Bowie, the big crescendo for the chorus as he unleashes his powerful passionate voice, and the stabbing, staccato piano that dots the borders as the song goes along. Vocal harmonies with Mick Ronson, the explosive yet gentle percussion piling in - to say nothing of the abstract lyric and Ronson's fine solo - all go to make this song the deserved classic it is, and it's a mystery to me, writing in the twenty-first century of course, when it's easy to be wise with hindsight, how this was not a hit on its first release. I particularly love the descending piano at the end which runs into a faraway ringing telephone. I do have an issue with the sublime strings used here, which add another dimension to the song: who plays them? There is no credit that I can find for them, and I think that's criminal and a real oversight, as they are very much an integral part of this classic slice of seventies rock.

After that amazing song, “Kooks” comes across as a pretty ordinary pop song, somewhat in the mould of Syd Barrett or The Kinks. There seems to be violin here too, but again I can't find any credit for it anywhere. The song is a midpaced, bouncy one with some very sprightly piano, and it's okay, but it's no followup to “Life on Mars”, but then, what could be? “Quicksand” comes in very low and gentle, acoustic guitar impelling it forward, then some nice piano and those mysterious strings come back to whip up the tune into something of a fervour. Bowie's voice, originally soft and gentle rises in concert with the music, and again there are some great vocal harmonies here. Excellent work by Wakeman, and whoever is playing the violins should definitely be given credit, I don't know why they're not.

“Fill Your Heart” sounds like something out of a Broadway musical, and I see it's a cover of an old song, so maybe it was. In a musical that is. It sounds very old and kind of out of place here though. Not crazy about, have to admit. Even Bowie's vocal on it sounds strained. Less crazy about “Andy Warhol”, at least the beginning, with a lot of weird phone sounds and voices. It does develop though into a nice uptempo acoustic number but I feel it's a bit basic and maybe not worthy of him. Much better is “Song for Bob Dylan”, with a lovely slow southern boogie-style guitar from Ronson and fine piano from Wakeman, Bowie emulating Dylan's vocal style and Ronson adding some sweet blues and slide guitar too. “Queen Bitch” returns somewhat to the rawer hard rock of The Man Who Sold the World and gives Ronson his head; he doesn't waste the opportunity. There's a touch of the Mariachi to the closer, “The Bewlay Brothers”, with a nice slow acoustic guitar. Goes through some ch-ch-ch-changes (sorry), and it's overall a pretty satisfying final track.

TRACK LISTING

Changes
Oh! You Pretty Things
Eight Line Poem
Life on Mars
Kooks
Quicksand
Fill Your Heart
Andy Warhol
Song for Bob Dylan
Queen Bitch
The Bewlay Brothers


This, then, is where the hits start to come through, and again I can't really understand why it was Ziggy and not this album that was his commercial breakthrough. There are certainly some duff tracks on this (and few if any on Ziggy) but they're outweighed by the truly great songs, with an instant classic into the bargain. It's not a perfect album, to be sure, but it certainly shows Bowie coming on in leaps and bounds from the previous albums, however good they may have been. It's the start of something truly special, which would culminate in the release of probably his most famous album, and the creation of his most famous persona, a year later.

Rating: 8.8/10

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Diamond Dogs (1974)


Ah, finally! An album I know well. This was the last real glam rock album from Bowie, just before he launched into his “new soul” era, ditching the world of makeup and high heels just as it was beginning to become derivative, and once again reinventing himself as the rock and roll chameleon. Having parted company with Mick Ronson and longtime bassist Trevor Bolder, Bowie undertook all the guitar parts himself (bar “Rock'n'Roll with Me”, on which the guitar was played by Earl Slick) and this tends to make the album sound rawer, almost amateurish in parts, but also imparts a freshness to it, and betrays a nod towards the looming storm of punk, waiting on the horizon.

Based loosely around George Orwell's dystopian masterpiece, it references much of Nineteen Eighty-Four in some of the song titles, and though he had been refused permission by Orwell's estate to create a rock musical based on the book, he used much of the music he had created for that project in anticipation of being given the go-ahead. Of course, Bowie had been looking into dark futures since the days of Hunky Dory, and it was probably no stretch for him to fill in the gaps and write his own story of a bleak future where kids ride around on roller-skates and have their own Mad Max style of tribal gang warfare. Again, in this vision of the future he was almost prophesying the rise of punk, which is pretty incredible given that this was 1974, with at least three to four more years before that particular phenomenon descended upon us.

With what sounds like a blood-curdling cry, the howl of a wolf or some semi-human being, which I think is made on the guitar, Bowie narrates the dark post-apocalyptic intro to the album, setting the scene as the strong prey on the weak and only the fittest survive, while discordant sax plays in the background and guitar feedback lays down an uncertain and somewhat disturbing soundtrack to this tale of final days, which Bowie declares “The year of the Diamond Dog” adding with feeling as we pile into the first proper track, the title one in fact, “This ain't rock'n'roll! This is genocide!”

Driven then on a very Stonesish chugging guitar, with sprightly piano almost out of place in this recounting of the crumbling of civilisation and the rise of the freaks who patrol the wasteland and spare no-one, “Diamond Dogs” rocks along at a great pace, and I have to say I really don't hear the absence of Ronson here. The guitar is simpler, yes, but when I heard this album originally back in the early eighties I had no idea he was not present. The chorus is instantly catchy as Bowie warns “Young girl, they call them the diamond dogs!” The song introduces Halloween Jack, Bowie's latest creation, again a version of Ziggy, who just refused to die, and the master of this bleak landscape, the survivor of survivors, king of the asphalt jungle, toughest of the tough, lord of all he surveys. The sax breaks coming in give the song a somewhat jazzy, soul aspect, and the almost-stop in the middle adds a lot to it.

Even without his longtime bandmates, it seems Bowie could do no wrong at this point. He had already taken an album of cover songs to the top, and now his adoring fans gleefully elevated him back to that position, and even across in the States he achieved his highest chart placing, getting for the first time to number five. Bowie's star was certainly on the rise now: the starman was no longer waiting in the sky; the man had fallen to Earth and found himself worshipped and adored. All hail the new king, the thin white duke, the diamond alpha dog! “Sweet Thing” opens very sort of psychedelicish, then advances on a slow piano and sax line, Bowie's voice dropping in register before coming back up for the chorus, running the whole gamut of his range. This song also, it must be said, presages his next move into the territory occupied mostly by persons not of his colour, as we will see soon when his soul period began.

Lovely piano work from Mike Garson again, and it's the album's first ballad, a three-part suite (the first, I think, he had attempted) which runs into “Candidate” on a sweet (sorry) guitar solo and pounding, almost classical piano, slow, military drumming now accompanying Bowie's sax breaks and guitar. The main melody remains but things begin to pick up in tempo as the passion increases with kind of a nod towards new wave, which had not yet even become a thing yet. Such an innovator. It builds to a fine crescendo and then descends into “Sweet Thing (reprise)” as the suite comes to its end on a twittering sax solo, everything slowing down again, the piece this time taking on gospel overtones and seeming to build to something. Which it sure as hell does.

Another of Bowie's bigger singles and one he's well known for, “Rebel Rebel” takes the album by the scruff and just fires it into an alley, laughing and diving on top of it with wild abandon. The grinding guitar riff that runs all through it is its signature, and worthy of Ronson at his best. The somewhat androgynous lines “Got your momma in a whirl/ She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl” definitely point towards his own feelings of sexuality at the time, well documented at that period. “Rebel Rebel” is a simple song, but so much the better for it, and I defy anyone not to tap their foot or even shake their head to its infectious rhythm. It does owe quite a lot of its iconic riff to “Satisfaction”, yes, but I love it and I especially love the way the chorus is almost the same as the verse. A precursor to punk? You 'd have to ask those better acquainted with that musical style, but I'd be inclined to think that a lot of young snotnoses coming up would have listened to this and thought “Fuck yeah! Let's do that!”

Garson's again almost gospel piano takes in “Rock'n'Roll with Me” as Bowie takes it down a notch, slowing everything down with sleazy sax and we have the second ballad, with incredible power and passion driven into the vocal, and a wonderful display on the guitar from Earl Slick in his guest role, almost sounds Claptonesque to me. One of my favourite tracks then is “We Are the Dead”, with a sort of dark carnival piano and organ driving the unsettling melody, a soft vocal from Bowie that builds and builds to a powerful climax, while “1984” floats in on sprinkly piano and almost disco rhythms, Visconti's strings playing a star turn here, really upping the tension and passion. Bowie's guitar is funky as all hell, and there's a lamenting moaned vocal that attends the chorus. It's possible that Bowie is cocking a satirical eyebrow at Orwell's estate's refusal to grant him permission for his musical when he warns “Beware the savage roar of 1984!”

“Big Brother” then comes in on trumpeting keyboards and brass with a dark choral vocal, a thick bass which sounds like it came from discarded edits for “Starman” and there's more soul allied to even Mariachi trumpets here. Great chorus with a fantastic hook, wonderful sax work and a real sense of desperate yearning takes us into the closer, the oddly titled “Chant of the Ever Circling Skeletal Family”, a kind of a mix of a tribal ritual and danse macabre, with odd vocalise within which the word “brother” can be discerned. Driven on a powerful, insistent guitar and sort of calypso style percussion it goes, basically around in a circle, until the last minute or so is just one half-word (I've seen it said that it sounds like “riot” but I think it's “brother”, or more correctly, “broth-”) which repeats sharply until it fades out.

TRACK LISTING

Future Legend
Diamond Dogs
Sweet Thing
Candidate
Sweet Thing (reprise)
Rebel Rebel
Rock'n'Roll with Me
We are the Dead
1984
Big Brother
Chant of the Ever Circling Skeletal Family


I remember how impressed I was the first time I heard this album. I remember now, because up to now I haven't really listened to it since, and now I regret that. As a swansong to his Ziggy personality in total, the end of his glam rock phase, and a thank you to his fans for sticking with him, you couldn't get better. Having attained all his goals, broken the UK and the USA, with his name now a household one and his meteoric rise to fame almost overnight (from unknown to star in what, two years?) most artistes would have been happy to have sat back and let the money roll in.

But as we know, Bowie never was most people. And having seen the heights he had scaled, it was like he looked across to a bigger, harder mountain, clapped his hands together and said “Right, that's that done. What's next?”

What was next was a complete change of direction, and a move that could have spelled doom for a lesser artist. But Bowie was never ... you get the idea.

Rating: 9.5/10

STation to station
 

The title track was really amazing. I loved the way it took such a long time getting there. The melody then becomes almost like a theatrical show with Have you sought fortune, evasive and shy?
Drink to the men who protect you and I
Drink, drink, drain your glass, raise your glass high

Also this album had quite a unique drums sound - not sharp but thudding. Superb vocals on Wild is the wind. That said, other tracks were less inspiring, perhaps even a bit dull. Not all of David is fab.