B.G.M.’s Guide to The Music Of David Bowie

In the last couple of weeks, our staff has had plenty to say regarding the passing of pop icon David Bowie. Considering his music is an antecedent of a plenty of albums we’ve talked up (Grimes, Kendrick Lamar, Dawn Richard anyone?), we’d be remiss to not take a deeper dive into what made his music touch so many of our writers on their own respective islands. Bowie was antagonistic and oblique longer than he needed to be in order to push the pop zeitgeist forward. For that reason, he’s on the level of The Beatles for scores of listeners. Yet he was undeniable enough that he’s vaunted by the old guard as well. It feels strange for someone to be celebrated by virtually everyone, yet be so iconoclastic. Contradictions like this lie all over the legacy of David Bowie. The most stellar part of that is the discography, which may be the best ever.

Some of the bigger Bowie albums we left unturned (Low, Aladdin Sane) in favor of digging deep on some not so celebrated releases like Outside, Young Americans, The Man Who Sold the World, and the Tin Machine albums. For any albums we may have missed please feel free to leave your opinion on them in the comment section. 

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David Bowie (1967)

Recorded when Brixton-born David was the tender age of 19, his musical adventure began with this eponymous release in 1967. In the grand scheme of things though this ragtag collection of songs represents very little about what was to come from the great man, instead seen as more of a tentative prequel to 1969’s Space Oddity which many consider to be his first ‘proper’ release. David Bowie is closer to the sound of a man testing the waters before plunging himself in the depths completely. There are still flashes of brilliance, a twinkle of light on the overall spectrum of Bowie’s back catalogue. “Rubber Band” demonstrates much of Bowie’s eccentricity as well as his playful cockney accent and “When I Live My Dream” showcases his trademark vocal technique of octave switching, which is seen more prominently in his follow-up album. That being said, David Bowie is still a great album but pales in comparison to his future releases. – David Dring

 

The Man Who Sold the World (1970) 

One of the more salient points hit on since David Bowie’s passing has been his status as a stop for most of music’s superhighways: Always admiring the achievements of fellow visionaries such as Marc Bolan, Kendrick Lamar, and Brian Eno, yet acting as an oracle for so much that would come after. The Man Who Sold the World is certainly a stop on the ride from Cream to Stone Temple Pilots, but it’s enduring legacy is as a goth rock touchstone. It’s one of a handful of albums in Bowie’s discography that’s more important than it is good. That’s not to disparage the album—only his elite works can live up to the influence this one has—as it actually marks the point where Bowie really hit his stride as an album artist. Side B, especially “She Shook Me Cold” and the title track, still kills. – Mickey White

 

 

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972) 

If you’re feeling pressed to recommend an album to someone who is completely unfamiliar with Bowie, I can’t think of a better album to start with than The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.   A conceptual space rock opera about a bisexual alien rock star who arrives on earth five years before it all comes to a screeching halt.  In addition to this album being a keystone Glam Rock album, it will likely introduce a listener to the under sung guitarist – Mick Ronson.  Stand out tracks: “Five Years,” “Soul Love,” “Starman,” “Hang On To Yourself” (guitar blueprint for the Ramones), “Ziggy Stardust,” and “Suffragette City.” – Rollie Agado

 

 

Pin Ups (1973)

Even early in his career,. Bowie wore his influences on his sleeves, covering them in concert (Jacques Brel’s “My Death”, The Velvet Underground’s “White Heat/White Light”) on record (“Fill Your Heart” by Biff Rose and Paul Williams, “Let’s Spend the Night Together”) or even lending them a hand with their own records (Mott the Hoople, Iggy & the Stooges, Lou Reed). But here, in a stopgap record between phases, Bowie filled two sides with his influences, covering everything from The Who (“I Can’t Explain”) to Van Morrison (Them’s “Here Comes the Night’) to Brel (“Port of Amsterdam.”). None are essential, but all show different sides of Bowie’s performing style and influences; it’s too bad the oft-bootlegged studio version of “White Heat/White Light” hasn’t been released, but c’est la vie. Perhaps the most interesting cut of all is a bonus track on the long-deleted Rykodisc reissue: a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Growin’ Up.” In 1973, Springsteen was hardly a household name; Greetings From Asbury Park, NJ peaked at 192 on the Billboard 200. How did Bowie find him? Why did he cover him, not once but twice (a cover of “It’s Hard to Be A Saint In the City” was recorded sometime between Young Americans and Station to Station), back before Springsteen’s star exploded? Was he also trying to give a hand to an artist he saw a lot of potential in? – M Milner

 

 

Diamond Dogs (1974)

A dystopian album loosely based around 1984, Diamond Dogs contains one of Bowie’s best known songs (“Rebel Rebel”). More importantly, it’s the shifting of his personas and out of glam rock into his short-lived “plastic soul” period. It’s a restless album full of big ideas and larger songs like the title track or the triumphant “Rock N Roll With Me”. Most excellent is the penultimate track “Big Brother”, which nervously segues into its odd outro, “Evercircling Chant of the Skeletal Family”, concluding in a hilarious, uncomfortable fixed groove that never quite resolves. – Kevin Krein

 

Young Americans (1975)

This album was like the gateway drug into Bowie’s ‘plastic soul’ phase of musicianship. From the first moment I heard it in full and still to this day it remains my favourite Bowie album. What makes it such a special release are the challenging ‘black music’ influences contained in its lyrical content. Bearing in mind Bowie was as quoted by session guitarist Carlos Alomar “the whitest man I’d ever seen” the fact he’d released an album engulfed in challenging American subjects and garnered nothing, but unadulterated success proves the man is nothing short of genius. The title track is a phenomenal piece of music, with its prominent piano underbelly and swirling saxophones. Young Americans also contains the excellent “John, I’m Only Dancing (Again)” and the effortlessly cool “Fame” which hit top spot in the Billboard charts.  Messrs Lennon and McCartney of Beatles fame as well as Luther Vandross join in on the fun too, the latter lending his writing talents on the suave and playfully soulful “Fascination”. Production stalwart Tony Visconti is yet again at the helm of Young Americans. Visconti remains one of the few mere mortals that actually “got” Bowie, channelling the great man’s musical mastery into one of the finest releases of the 70s. – David Dring

 

 

“Heroes” (1977)

The creative peak of Bowie’s exile in Berlin, where do you begin with an album like “Heroes”? Do you begin with the quotes around the title, and their meaning, or do you begin with the title track itself–possibly one of the greatest songs ever written, with its harrowing, evocative imagery? The album itself is sequenced into two very specific halves: the first being very song oriented, featuring the slithering double shot of “Beauty and The Beast” and the manic “Joe The Lion.” The second half, well, it’s weird. The reason there were so many instrumental tracks on Low was because Bowie couldn’t come up with lyrics for a number of the songs. Here, as weird as they are, the instrumental tracks seem slightly more focused, despite the sonic experiments they may have been. No matter how you look at the album, “Heroes,” recorded in the shadow of the Berlin Wall, captures so many moments in time, making it one of Bowie’s most important and poignant. -Kevin Krein

 

 

Lodger (1979)

Lodger is sure a weird album, isn’t it? Considered the third in the fabled “Berlin Trilogy,” it wasn’t even recorded in Berlin at all–it was recorded in Switzerland. However, it does continue Bowie’s partnership with Brian Eno, who takes co-writing credit on a number of the album’s ten, marginally unfocused, but still outstanding tracks. “Fantastic Voyage,” the album’s opening track, is my favorite Bowie song, for personal reasons I won’t get into here, but it’s also a bait and switch for the album—nothing else on Lodger is that straightforward. There’s the weird, world influence of “Yassassin” and “African Night Flight”, the noisy pop of “Boys Keep Swinging,” and the manic tension of “DJ.” It may be a little all over the place, but it’s all 100% Bowie.  – Kevin Krein

 

 

Let’s Dance (1983)

I had mentioned this on our latest podcast episode, but the first three tracks of this album are straight fire. Like they could easily be the best three tracks to open up any album of all time. The beginning on Let’s Dance basically sounds like a greatest hits collection. – Jon

 

 

 

 

 

David Bowie / Trevor Jones – Labyrinth (1986)

The Labyrinth is a musical and visual journey constructed by Jim Henson and David Bowie – among many other talents. Besides the two main actors, the majority of the “actors” in the movie are puppets. There isn’t a more delightful scene than Bowie performing “Dance Magic Dance” with 50 puppets (hit the replay on him saying, “well?” so the goblins react) The music in this film is celestial and simply a whole lotta fun. My sister and I used to watch it over and over again…it is forever cemented into my memories and my feelings on how my relationship has evolved with her over time. I didn’t know as a kid, I would have gone through the ‘Bog of Eternal Stench’ for her, but I know that today – I would be right in the center of the castle screaming, “YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME” to get her back from the Goblin King. Although, watching this as an adult, I’d definitely crack open a bottle of wine with the Goblin King before rescuing her and let him teach me how to ballroom dance. Pretty sure he would want to see my smooth moves to said “Dance Magic Dance” as well.  Danielle Lail

Never Let Me Down came during a difficult period creatively for Bowie. Predecessor Tonight, although reaching number 1 in the UK album charts, had fared extremely poorly in terms of reviews. For Bowie, the poor reception his mid to late 1980’s releases had received resulted in him going back to rock band basics in the form of his Tin Machine side band. Never Let Me Down isn’t actually a bad album though. Granted it wouldn’t be in many critic’s top ten lists or anything but it does show signs of life. One of David’s all-time favourite songs “Time Will Crawl” appears on this album and although it isn’t quintessential Bowie it’s still a damn fine, catchy song. I will always have a fondness of music from the 80s being as I was born in 1988, it’s always interesting to hear what the sounds of the world were like back when you were a twinkle in your parents’ eyes. Never Let Me Down doesn’t sound any different to anything else from that time, so in that respect Bowie deserves a lot of praise for keeping up with the trends even in his third decade of releasing music. Even the great innovator himself needs some time off. – David Dring

 

Tin Machine – Tin Machine I + II (1989/1991)

He was just another guy in a band, right? The point of Tin Machine was to let Bowie step back a bit and become part of a collective; the band wrote some songs together, appeared as a unit on the cover and the videos gave time to everyone: Bowie, Reeves Gabrels, Tony Sales, and Hunt Sales. And after a decade of slick, if fun, music, Bowie and company went back a bit, going to a hard, pounding sound, reminiscent of Scary Monsters, but less polished. But hey: maybe that’s why he called in the Sales brothers, who used to back up Iggy Pop back in the day.

At the time, it sold poorly. Now, a good 25 years later, it sounds hard and angry; Neil Young was touring with Sonic Youth, but it sounds like Bowie was listening to ‘em, too. “Under the God,” which starts with a buzzsaw guitar and Bowie singing about racists is as loud, brash, and angry as he’d been all decade. By song’s end, he’s yelling, the guitar’s out of control and the room’s full of rubble. – M. Milner

 

 

 

 

Outside (1995)

Growing up, I remember my mom having cassettes of David Bowie’s Let’s Dance and the Pretenders’ Learning to Crawl rotating in and out of her car stereo. This imprinting of David Bowie created a natural curiosity about him, and when I would see him on TV, in movies, in interviews or in his music videos, I would always be fascinated by what a human cryptoid he was; he had an otherworldly presence that transcended his humanness, like some sort of mythological creature that climbed out of the realm of imagination and was now basking in our pitiful reality.

Throughout the years I closely followed Bowie and tried to assemble a collection of all of his albums, past and present.  My first taste of Outside was when I saw the music video for “The Heart’s Filthy Lesson” on MTV; I remember thinking how dark and macabre it was. I actually just re-watched this video while writing this, and it is such awful 90’s cheese I couldn’t make it all the way through. It may be Bowie’s most embarrassing moment next to him and Jagger’s cocaine fueled, sashaying debacle, “Dancing in the Streets”.  Anywho, “The Heart’s Filthy Lesson” sounded like nothing Bowie had done before, and in my awkward 13 year old eyes, it was such a “crazy” and “weird” song that I needed the Compact Disc immediately.  Well, lucky for me, the stars were aligned; my parents brought me on their monthly trip to Costco to stock up on frozen mini pizzas and toilet paper.  While passing by the “Media” section, I started flipping through the bin of CD’s, and amongst the 5000 copies of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ One Hot Minute, I found a copy of Outside staring back at me.  Since I wasn’t a complete dick on this grocery trip, I got the okay to buy it.

Outside is a concept album, it follows the story of a government appointed investigator Nathan Adler who is investigating the newest fad in the art community, “art crimes:” murders where people are mutilated in bizarre and gruesome ways.  One of the victims is a 14 year old girl, and the album details Adler’s descent into bedlam trying to piece together who killed her.  Between songs, you get monologues from Adler and various other characters. Pretty dark territory for the ol’ Ziggy Stardust.

A little research on this album revealed that it was a collaboration with Bowie’s long-time friend and fellow cryptoid, Brian Eno.  The music on this album ranges from Reznor-esque sounding industrial-pop (“Hallo Spaceboy,” “No Control,” ‘The Heart’s Filthy Lesson”) to Eno and Bowie’s intricate rock structures with licks of off-kilter lounge-jazz (“The Voyeur of Utter Destruction,” “A Small Plot of Land”) to infectiously catchy weird-pop (“We Prick you” and “I Have Not been to Oxford Town”).  The grim subject matter casts a somber aura throughout the listen, adding an interactive element to it; even if you lift up the more sanguine songs, you will find worms and insects writhing underneath.

Aside from the excellent songwriting, you have to give Bowie credit for doing something totally afield of the rest of his discography.  This is something that most modern mainstream artists are terrified to do: step outside themselves into an entirely different realm of music and aesthetics.  Is this due to the pig hooves of the music industry forbidding experimentation so they can squeeze every last penny from their latest auto-tuned automaton of the week, or is it just the sheer lack of musical artistry?

Thank you, David Bowie, for your fearless risk-taking.  You are a true inspiration inside and outside of music. – Brandon Perras

 

 

Earthling (1997)

In the 1997, electronica was all the rage in the mainstream. Bowie had already put his own personal spin on Industrial music with Outside, and it seemed like drum and bass was the next logical step. Even though it was the first album he recorded all digital, it still manages to sound as organic and raw as a live recording. To me Earthling feels like Bowie was experiencing a second wind of creativity that had been missing throughout most of his career during the 80s and early 90s. He wasn’t trying a new popular trend, but advancing it, all the while having fun doing it. Some of the songs are dark and aggressive but it never feels like Bowie is trying to sell it to us, it just sounds completely natural. It’s another example of how he was capable of taking something that shouldn’t work, and turning it into something genius. Textbook David Bowie. – Aaron Cooper

 

 

‘Hours…’ (1999)

Nothing after a certain point is going to be considered to be ‘classic’ Bowie. I think that maybe stopped somewhere around Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps). Forgetting his output in the 80s completely, Bowie saw a pretty consistent resurgence in the 90s, putting out an album roughly every two years or so. Hours… is one of those albums, released in 1999. By no means as interesting as his dabbling with industrial and electronica, it still is nothing to be forgotten, showing Bowie easing into a more “elder statesman” kind of role here. Also, the single, “Thursday’s Child,” is such smooth, dope jam. So the album is worth listening to for that reason alone. – Kevin Krein

 

 

The Next Day (2013)

What a comeback! Seen as a spent force after a decade of silence, Bowie sprang the announcement of The Next Day on January 8th 2013, his 66th birthday. The album went on to top over 20 worldwide album charts, although disappointingly only reaching 55 in South Korea. You can hardly expect a nation gripped with PSY fever to fully appreciate what Bowie was peddling on The Next Day, though. It’s an album packed with excellence, a journey of a man who evidently still had a point to prove. Even in this twilight period of Bowie’s career the fire was still burning, not more so on the frantic opening title track. The poignant, piano-driven ballad “Where Are We Now?” was the first single to be released from the album and has Bowie in a reflective mood, recollecting various landmarks in Berlin which was his home in the late 1970s, both physically and spiritually. Quite frankly The Next Day is nothing short of a masterpiece, an honest storytelling of an old man’s life and a wonderful beacon of expression. – David Dring

Full review here.

 

 

★ (2016)

The dilettantism of 60s and 70s rock musicians taking on jazz is well-documented. The rap on Bowie has always been that he’s evaded latter-day criticism in some of his genre-crossing adventures because he came correct and gave credit to cultures when it was due. Blackstar is further proof: a big band jazz album, with a tight band and enormous credentials that’s heavily indebted to the vibrancy of showtunes. The key to the album is Mark Giuliana’s drumming, which gives★ a nervous energy that simultaneously drives and swings. ‘Tis a pity we didn’t realize this was his cryptic way of telling us that his days were numbered. Quite literally indeed, too as Michael Azerrad pointed out, black star is the name of a cancer lesion. Death as performance art so full of energy and life was peak Bowie and as memorable of a swan song as modern music has ever had. – Mickey White

Full review here.

 

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Dan Vesper’s Ultimate David Bowie Spotify Playlist is here.

For more dedication pieces and coverage on David Bowie click here.