I had a lot to do sat in front of a computer the other day. If you know anything about being self-employed, and the time of year, you might be able to guess the kinds of things I was doing.
This was going to take a long time, so I decided to make something of it. As it was David Bowie’s 65th birthday last Sunday, how about listening to everything I had by him until I finished? Plenty of variety there.
On the PC’s hard drive I have what is considered to be his Golden Years: The Man Who Sold The World (1970) through to Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) (1980). That should keep me going, I thought. Eight hours’ worth.
As it turned out, I had listened to all that and had a lot left to do, so I ventured onto Spotify for that uncharted territory called Bowie’s ’80s Albums.
I’ve never spent so long at one sitting with one artist, and I really enjoyed it. Every album from Man Who Sold The World through to the first Tin Machine offering, just short of eleven hours. Since you’ve got this far, I’ll let you know my conclusions.
Certainly, the stretch from The Man… to Scary Monsters is prime time, the man at the height of his powers. Some startling changes of gear, such as from TMWSTW’s proto-metal to the more singer-songwritery beginning to Hunky Dory. Diamond Dogs to Young Americans felt like a handbrake turn!
I faced the prospect of the post-Scary Monsters albums with some trepidation. On the positive side there are some good bits (the famous Let’s Dance singles, Loving The Alien, Blue Jean, This Is Not America) which are good, sometimes quirky, pop. I didn’t realise that the album versions are much longer than the chart versions. Don’t normally approve of single edits, but they really were necessary here.
Never Let Me Down was as bad as it has been portrayed. Hard to believe that the man who started Diamond Dogs with such an eerie monologue could then try the same kind of thing on Glass Spider and sound thoroughly unconvinced about it himself. I shaln’t be bothering with that album again.
After the dire Never Let Me Down, Bowie needed a change. I was convinced by someone on the excellent Word Magazine blog that there are times when some artists need to create something which, whilst perhaps not great in and of itself, is necessary to get them out of a rut, or spark creativity, or whatever. Tin Machine doesn’t get a great press these days, but it was the jump-start Bowie needed, a breath of fresh air after hideous ’80s production and looooooong sooooooooongs. It sounds like an avant-garde version of grunge, still a few years away. Any evidence Kurt Cobain was a fan?
Not sure I’d consider Tin Machine I to be a great album, but one track really stood out for me, and I’ve listened to it several times since:
(WARNING: contains ‘language’).
This typifies two things I learnt from Bowie Admin Day. First, he always produces good stuff when paired with a distinctive guitarist. Admittedly, in a list that includes Ronson, Fripp, and Alamar, Reeves Gabrels is distinctly first-reserve, but he has the wotsits necessary to kick Bowie up the bum creatively.
The second thing I noticed, that curiously always seems to be overlooked: Bowie can SING. I Can’t Read is underplayed, blank and yet quietly unhinged. In Tin Machine he also sings big rockers with huge power. Plenty of crooning in the Young Americans phase. The fey, Cockernee voice which often surfaces in the earlier albums. The staggering use of his lower and upper ranges in Sweet Thing or Sound & Vision. Bowie seems to able to do anything with his voice, and can make even half-baked songs work. I think the sheer creativity of the man overshadows the fact that he has one of the great voices of popular music.
Obviously, I missed the first two albums and Tin Machine II onwards. The next time I have an admin binge, I’ll hit Spotify and fill in the gaps.
Oh, and Mr Bowie, any chance of getting out to the studio and surprising us all again?