I think my initial reaction to hearing about the passing of David Bowie earlier in the week was the same everyone else’s, that of disbelief. For some reason we assumed him immortal, a man of so many faces, so many personas. But ultimately he was just David Robert Jones – a mere mortal from South London. Although just a regular guy like the rest of us, the influence of David Bowie on music and culture as we know it today is immense. A musical trailblazer that drew from the far reaches of western and eastern cultures to develop a constantly evolving and always iconoclastic approach to popular music. A fashion icon that pushed the boundaries of what a man could look like, what a rock star could act like and how being your unique weirdo self could become the template for an entire generation after you. His legacy is unparalleled; there will never and can never be another like him.
When I heard he passed I immediately had the inclination to do a list of his greatest songs. With an initial idea of a top 20 songs, I did a quick shortlist that ended up with over 50 songs. So I did a cull and ended up with 36 before I was unwilling to cut any further. So here it is, a top three dozen – it probably could have been in any order but I did my best to order it in some way, numbers aside.
Part of wanting the list to go further than 36 was to include something from ‘Blackstar’. Released just a few days ago, it’s a testament to the fact that Bowie never grew complacent right ’til the end. This was my first introduction to any of the material from the album. Sounds like Scott Walker arranged by Charles Mingus and somehow, exactly like David Bowie.
A song by a bisexual man that addressed his sexuality and caused his record label to prevent it’s release until 1976. Like Lou Reed, Bowie was integral in pushing things that were before considered taboo into the popular consciousness.
I remember playing this song in front of my class when I was in school and my teacher said he liked the performance considering it wasn’t one of Bowie’s best. I disagree, listening back to it now I still find it a fitting tribute to an icon.
Using Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies in its creation, this track from Bowie’s Masterpiece ‘Low’ is perhaps a perfect example of the Berlin mindset at the time. Using an invented language for the vocals and a musical arrangement designed to evoke the desolation of Warsaw, this track perfectly typifies the idea of evoking despair and trying to find the human emotion in the electronic instrument.
What a final song to release before his passing. With a video clip of him on a hospital bed and opening lines of ‘Look up here, I’m in Heaven’. A parting gift that couldn’t have come from anyone else.
The beginning of him pushing further into experimentation later explored in the Berlin years. In his personal life he was beginning to willingly self destruct with his ongoing drug use: ‘A Lad Insane’.
Written for his newly born son Zowie (later Duncan) and with influence from the style of Neil Young. A new parent singing about the parent he hopes to be.
Fripp on guitar, Bowie sending up British pop culture and one hell of an 80’s video clip.
After they passed on Suffragette City, David went back to the drawing board to offer up another song for Mott The Hoople’s 1972 album. It not only ended up being the band’s biggest songs but one of glam rock’s biggest anthems.
Always with an affinity towards American Culture, this is a song inspired by Bowie’s love for Little Richard. Another big song from an immensely popular album.
Those drums. Tony Visconti fed Dennis Davis’ snare through an Eventide Harmonizer to pitch it down underneath the original snare sound. Couple this with the bombastic kick drum sound and Eno’s rude as hell Moog Synth and you’ve got the recipe for one of Art Rock Bowie’s finest.
This track pretty much provides the template for the glam rock follow up in Ziggy. Inspired by The Velvet Underground, and showcasing Mick Ronson’s guitar playing that would be integral in Bowie’s sound moving forward.
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Written about Iggy Pop’s drug induced hallucination where he thought his girlfriend was being swallowed by her television. All the while The Thin White Duke staying on form with all its far reaching reference points. Bowie in peak period.
Ziggy’s final collapse. Glam Rock’s explodes.
Lyrically about completing the mistakes over and over and featuring studio treatments on the vocals, guitars and layered synths. More catharsis from ‘Low’s rebuilding process.
“I’m not a prophet or a stone aged man, just a mortal with the potential of a superman”. With not much more than an acoustic 12-string, this is whole track is arguably Bowie’s finest lyrical hour.
Dancier than Let’s Dance? Probably.
A key track in his early career that shaped where he was headed and a key track in him finding a new audience in the 90’s when it was covered by the worlds biggest band at the time, Nirvana. Another example of his ability to some how continue to be relevant.
A little bit cabaret and a chorus hook as strong as anything The Beatles put to tape. Another song about parental anxieties from Hunky Dory.
Opening his glam rock masterpiece and singing about the demise of the human race, his fascination with George Orwell starting to show its face. With an idiosyncratic musical arrangement and the last minute showing Bowie at his most cathartic, this is one of the strongest tracks from one of his strongest records.
Bowie relationship with Jagger had grown to the point where the Stones were subconsciously rubbing off on his writing. Probably his most iconic guitar riff.
Almost serving as a manifesto for his constant reinvention, the track with early beginnings as a parody of a throwaway nightclub track has proved to be one of his most enduring. Like a lot of Hunky Dory its lyrics touch on personal anxieties of the ‘changes’ in his life he was starting to encounter and like a lot of Hunky Dory it features an instantly memorable melodic hook – one of his best.
Plastic Soul Bowie. With backing vocals from Ava Cherry, Robin Clark and Luther Vandross and blaring sax from Dave Sanborn, a white British guy takes on black music with a bleak tale of first time sex and 70’s Nixon paranoia. That shouldn’t work. Huge song.
The most user friendly track from an album not overly user friendly for the uninitiated. Almost entirely instrumental until the vocal comes in about half way through singing abstractly about his need to shake his addictions. Built from his need rebuild after a emotional and spiritual unsettling time that came before it. The layered instrumental draws from a wide array of sources and different elements from throughout his career, both before and after. He called this his ‘ultimate retreat song’.
Bowie starved himself during this period of everything except cocaine, milk and red peppers. The Thin White Duke was born and one of his greatest albums was recorded. Inspired by Kraftwerk, lyrical themes of gnosticism and the Kabbalah, Earl Slick’s guitar feedback and Bowie’s longest ever studio recording. Potentially the most coked up song ever recorded.