1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die: 350. David Bowie – Station To Station (1976)

 

It feels like there’s usually a bit of Bowie to start the year; I wonder if he times his albums for January releases as a policy or something? Or maybe I’m just mis-remembering. [Added in Edit - his birthday was in January so there maybe something to that theory].

Anyway, fresh off the back of filming The Man Who Fell To Earth (in a haze of cocaine), Bowie introduces his new persona of the Thin White Duke – Young Americans not really being in a particular character. The Duke is a louche, empty figure, a sociopath really, flirting with far-right ideology and singing cynically of love without ever feeling it. In some ways he’s a reflection of the sense of disconnect that Bowie felt in the depths of his cocaine addiction (the "thin white duke" sounds not unlike describing a line of cocaine).

The album is a strange little beast. Coming at under 40 minutes in total, with only six tracks, it blends some of the soul and funk from Young Americans with elements of krautrock (Bowie admits influence from both Neu! And Tangerine Dream). The big single, Golden Years, is quite funky, even more funky is Stay. Both of these typify the kind of “empty” love song of the Thin White Duke, the lyrics may have a romantic element but they are equally possessive, narcissistic, vague enough to mean anything really. TVC 15 has the feel of a Ziggy Stardust era rock and roller, but with enough art-rock elements to make it slightly weird and unsettling. It’s about a man’s obsession with his electronic entertainment over his partner (a little like Bowie’s character Newton in The Man Who Fell To Earth), choosing technological pleasure over human contact. 

Counter to all that, though, is for my money the best tune on the album and one of Bowie’s best performances, Wild Is The Wind. This isn’t, as I thought, originally a Nina Simone track even though she does a powerful version of it on the album of the same name; it was written for Johnny Mathis. Bowie here gives an almost demented version, mad and swirling like a man lost. If we’re considering his persona, this is the Duke in self-aware mode, recognising how lost he is. 

As I say, it’s an odd little album that feels half like a place-holder, an interim step between Young Americans and post-cocaine Bowie, half like a polished gem of mad genius in its own right.