David Bowie Albums (32)
What The Critics Say
VH1's sadly short-lived series Storytellers was ideal for an old charmer like David Bowie, giving him an intimate platform to spin stories both old and new. When he appeared on the show on August 23, 1999, he was a few months away from releasing Hours..., an album where he comfortably came to terms with his past, so it fits that he's looking back fondly here, telling stories about the Mannish Boys and Iggy Pop, sliding the new tunes "Thursday's Child" and "Seven" in between "Life on Mars?" and "Drive-In Saturday," plus "Can't Help Thinking About Me," a single he released with the Lower Third in 1965. These are all good, relaxed, unplugged readings, but the chief attraction of VH1 Storytellers is, appropriately enough, those stories Bowie tells, as they not only offer a glimpse into the creation of these songs, they do what great stories should do: they entertain. [VH1 Storytellers is available as a CD/DVD package, with the CD containing a mere eight songs and the DVD containing a full program of 12 tunes, adding "Always Crashing in the Same Car" and Tin Machine's "I Can't Read" into the mix.] ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
No matter how much time passes, it's unlikely that David Bowie will ever be forgiven for Glass Spider, the super-ambitious tour that accompanied the release of his 1987 Never Let Me Down album, and which still stands among rock's most pointlessly extravagant gestures, an outing of such theater and delicate choreography that it took only one gust of wind, or one squeal of feedback, to reduce it to farce. Or so the critics said. This recounting of a typical live show, however, places the entire affair into a considerably less accusatory context, as a sharp set list wanders across Bowie's career-long landscape and, if the excerpts from the new album do still grate ("Day in Day Out" must be one of his worst ever compositions), there's also a sharp eye for the underplayed jewels. Of course, things do get a little pat as the recording moves into the closing straight, and "Let's Dance," "Blue Jean," and "Modern Love" chime out with all their stadium-filling bombast, but there's a lot more to the album than that, and it really does add up to one of Bowie's most unfairly underrated exercises. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Instead of being a one-off comeback, 2002's Heathen turned out to be where David Bowie settled into a nice groove for his latter-day career, if 2003's Reality is any indication. Working once again with producer Tony Visconti, Bowie again returns to a sound from the past, yet tweaks it enough to make it seem modern, not retro. Last time around, he concentrated on his early-'70s sound, creating an amalgam of Hunky Dory through Heroes. With Reality, he picks up where he left off, choosing to revise the sound of Heroes through Scary Monsters, with the latter functioning as a sonic blueprint for the album. Basically, Reality is a well-adjusted Scary Monsters, minus the paranoia and despair -- and if those two ingredients were key to the feeling and effect of that album, it's a credit to Bowie that he's found a way to retain the sound and approach of that record, but turn it bright and cheerful and keep it interesting. Since part of the appeal of Monsters is the creeping sense of unease and its icy detachment, it would seem that a warmer, mature variation on that would not be successful, but Bowie and Visconti are sharp record-makers, retaining what works -- layers of voices and guitars, sleek keyboards, coolly propulsive rhythms -- and tying them to another strong set of songs. Like Heathen, the songs deliberately recall classic Bowie by being both tuneful and adventurous, both hallmarks of his '70s work. If this isn't as indelible as anything he cut during that decade, that's merely the fate of mature work by veteran rockers. So, Reality doesn't have the shock of the new, but it does offer some surprises, chief among them the inventive, assured production and memorable songs. It's a little artier than Heathen, but similar in its feel and just as satisfying. Both records are testaments to the fact that veteran rockers can make satisfyingly classicist records without resulting in nostalgia or getting too comfortable. With any luck, Bowie will retain this level of quality for a long time to come. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Heathen marks a new beginning for David Bowie in some ways -- it's his first record since leaving Virgin, his first for Columbia Records, his first for his new label, ISO -- yet it's hardly a new musical direction. Like Hours, this finds Bowie sifting through the sounds of his past, completely at ease with his legacy, crafting a colorful, satisfying album that feels like a classic Bowie album. That's not to say that Heathen recalls any particular album or any era in specific, yet there's a deliberate attempt to recapture the atmosphere, the tone of his '70s work -- there's a reason that Bowie decided to reteam with Tony Visconti, the co-producer of some of his best records, for this album -- even if direct comparisons are hard to come by. Which is exactly what's so impressive about this album. Bowie and Visconti never shy away from electronic instrumentations or modern production -- if anything, they embrace it -- but it's woven into Bowie's sound subtly, never drawing attention to the drum loops, guitar synths, and washes of electronica. For that matter, guest spots by Dave Grohl and Pete Townshend (both on guitar) don't stand out either; they're merely added texture to this an album that's intricately layered, but always plays smoothly and alluringly. And, make no mistake, this is an alluring, welcoming, friendly album -- there are some moody moments, but Bowie takes Neil Young's eerie "I've Been Waiting for You" and Pixies' elusively brutal, creepy "Cactus" and turns them sweet, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, either. In the end, that's the key to Heathen -- the undercurrent of happiness, not in the lyrics, but in the making of music, a realization by Bowie and Visconti alike that they are perfect collaborators. Unlike their previous albums together, this doesn't boldly break new ground, but that's because, 22 years after their last collaboration, Scary Monsters, both Bowie and Visconti don't need to try as hard, so they just focus on the craft. The result is an understated, utterly satisfying record, his best since Scary Monsters, simply because he'd never sounded as assured and consistent since. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Actually, by the time this package hit the streets in 1997, the only "rare" thing in sight were fans who didn't already own the 15 songs within. Nevertheless, Rarest Live remains a fascinating collection, a compilation drawing from the Santa Monica '72 live album, and the 1996 Rarest One Bowie collection of bootlegged odds and ends, highlighted by some genuine treats -- a storming live rendition of "Queen Bitch," performed with the Station to Station-era band, a couple of tracks from a 1978 London show, legendary versions of "Time," from the 1980 Floor Show TV concert, and "My Death" from Ziggy's Carnegie Hall debut, and -- fanfare, please -- a version of Cream's "I Feel Free," taped in the pre-stardom depths of 1971.The sound quality, unfortunately, does not always live up to the historical value of the tracks -- "I Feel Free," in particular, is little more than a faint rattle trying to break through some serious hiss. But other moments are priceless -- the 1973 studio outtake "All the Young Dudes" is overly familiar now, but that wasn't always the case, while a version of the funk classic "Footstompin'" was caught live on The Dick Cavett Show shortly before Bowie and John Lennon transformed it into "Fame," and it really does live up to its title. The remainder of the set draws from Santa Monica '72 and, to be fair, there are few better live souvenirs of Bowie than at his 1972 peak. But the real meat had already been served up and, again, though Rarest Live should not have been allowed to get away with that title, its intentions are honorable all the way. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Since David Bowie spent the '90s jumping from style to style, it comes as a shock that Hours, his final album of the decade, is a relatively straightforward affair. Not only that, but it feels unlike anything else in his catalog. Bowie's music has always been a product of artifice, intelligence, and synthesis. Hours... is a relaxed, natural departure from this method. Arriving after two labored albums, the shift in tone is quite refreshing. "Thursday's Child," the album's engaging mid-tempo opener, is a good indication of what lays ahead. It feels like classic Bowie, yet recalls no specific era of his career. For the first time, Bowie has absorbed all the disparate strands of his music, from Hunky Dory through Earthling. That doesn't mean Hours... is on par with his earlier masterworks; it never attempts to be that bold. What it does mean is that it's the first album where he has accepted his past and is willing to use it as a foundation for new music. That's the reason why Hours... feels open, even organic -- he's no longer self-conscious, either about living up to his past or creating a new future. It's a welcome change, and it produces some fine music, particularly on the first half of the record, which is filled with such subdued, subtly winning songs as "Something in the Air," "Survive," and "Seven." Toward the end of the album, Bowie branches into harder material, which isn't quite as successful as the first half of the album, yet shares a similar sensibility. And that's what's appealing about Hours... -- it may not be one of Bowie's classics, but it's the work of a masterful musician who has begun to enjoy his craft again and isn't afraid to let things develop naturally. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Jumping on the post-grunge industrial bandwagon with Outside didn't successfully rejuvenate David Bowie's credibility or sales, so he switched his allegiance to techno and jungle for the follow-up, Earthling. While jungle is a more appropriate fit than industrial, the resulting music is nearly as awkward. Though he often gets the sound of jungle right, the record frequently sounds as if the beats were simply grafted on top of pre-existing songs. Never are the songs broken open by a new form; they are fairly conventional Bowie songs with fancy production. Fortunately, Bowie sounds rejuvenated by this new form, and songs like "Little Wonder" and "Seven Years in Tibet" are far stronger than the bulk of Outside. Still, the record falls short of its goals, and it doesn't offer enough intrigue or innovations to make Earthling anything more than an admirable effort. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
'The Buddha of Suburbia'
Release Date 10/24/1995
Tracks 10
Label Virgin
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
It was probably David Bowie's record-company affiliation difficulties that kept the 1993 Buddha of Suburbia soundtrack to a British TV miniseries from being released in the U.S. until 1995, when it was slipped out in the wake of his new album, Outside. That's too bad, because The Buddha of Suburbia is an often engaging collection of songs and instrumental passages that recalls many previous Bowie albums, including such disparate efforts as The Man Who Sold the World, Aladdin Sane, and Low. It's not a major effort by any means, but in another context songs like "Strangers When We Meet" easily could become Bowie favorites. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Outside bears the subtitle The Diary of Nathan Adler or The Art-Ritual Murder of Baby Grace Blue. A non-linear Gothic Drama Hyper-cycle. Alright, so it reeks of pretension. One belabors the point because Bowie at his best has always been pretentious, risque, creatively (if sometimes contrivedly) over the top. Outside marks the first in a planned series of collaborations with multi-instrumentalist, producer and conceptualist Brian Eno based on a Bowie short story. In this end-of-millennium setting, "art-crimes" and "concept muggings" merit their own police division funded by the "Arts Protectorate of London." Echoes of the Berlin "outsider" Bowie/Eno '70s trilogy of Low, Heroes, and Lodger reverberate throughout, including a return to the "cut-and-paste" lyric-assembly method then employed, only this time fed through a Mac rather than more labor-intensive paper and scissors tools. The thusly fragmented "narrative" follows the investigations of Detective Professor Adler into the murder and subsequent dismembered body-parts exhibition of 14 year-old runaway Baby Grace Blue. In this cut-up, composite world, each character, including Adler, Baby Grace, mixed-race youth Leon Blank, septuagenarian Algeria Touchshriek, and art-terrorist Ramona A. Stone, reflects a different aspect of Bowie himself and therefore a component of all the previous personas Bowie has enacted over the years. The music also randomly dices and displays many of the previous album settings such personas have populated. To complete the cube, Bowie then draws on musicians that form a kind of anagram band from his past. The closest "Ziggy" link comes courtesy of pianist Mike Garson, whose icy tinkling jazz runs evoke many a spine-tingly moment from Aladdin Sane and Diamond Dogs. Besides Garson and Eno, other names familiar to those who follow the Bowie canon include guitarists Carlos Alomar (Station to Station through Scary Monsters) and Reeves Grabels (Tin Machine), and more recent collaborators such as drummer Sterling Campbell (Black Tie White Noise) and multi-instrumentalist Erdal Kizilcay (Buddha). Diamond Dogs, inspired by George Orwell's 1984, is another obvious precursor to Outside's (literal) dissection of a post-apocalyptic, technological society in the name of Art. Bowie inflicts "in-character" spoken word segments as between-song segues, several of which evoke the Cockney campiness of such '60s period pieces as "Please Mr. Gravedigger" and "The Laughing Gnome" -- humor (intentional or not) that softens an otherwise bleak landscape. So, should you actually care about this dense, dark, difficult story and its generally unsympathetic characters? The effort required to adequately "process" Outside pays off in a richly voyeuristic experience where Bowie once again reflects fringe culture into the mainstream and forces us to consider that the differences are not so great. ~ Roch Parisien, All Music Guide
