DAVID BOWIE

Talk about a shaky start. This album, if you are used to Bowie's classic material, will seem very dated and quaint. The relatively simplistic pop songs are not very sophisticated. That said, there are a few surprises that make this worth buying, even if just for interest in Bowie's roots. Another thing worth noting is the story telling is very clever, even at this early stage.

'Uncle Arthur' is an average pop song, nothing special. 'Sell Me a Coat' isn't very special either, and there is a better remix on 'The Deram Years' anthology. 'Rubber Band' is slightly more intense, with very surreal lyrics. 'Love You Till Tuesday' is another simple pop song... but I like it. The lyrics never fail to make me laugh, and the tune is uplifting. 'There is a Happy Land' is probably the first serious song on the album, but it still has silliness included. There would later be a sequel to this song on 'The Man Who Sold the World' called 'After All'. If Bowie's lyrics are to be taken seriously on 'We Are Hungry Men', he is more deranged than I assumed, otherwise it is a darkly humourous song about a future society, that hints towards Boie's later albums. 'When I Live My Dream' is a very weak track that is just too romantic, without Bowie's usual wit and satire added. 'Little Bombadier' is simply a story telling pop song. 'Silly Boy Blue' is slower and sounds almost like a cautionary tale. 'Come and Buy my Toys' is pretty worthless here, as is 'Join My Gang', and 'She's Got Medals' is only slightly better. There's nothing special about 'Maid of Bond Street' either, to be honest. So all we have left is 'Please Mr. Gravedigger', a song that could qualify as experimental, and unlike anything Bowie has recorded since. It is a half sung/half moaned dialogue adressed to a gravedigger (which may or may not be himself), with no instrumental backgrounds, just the sound of wind and rain, and other noises you would expect to find in a grave yar. Weird!

So, there it is. A one of a kind album, form a one of a kind artist. Not essential by any stretch of the imagination, and even the word good is pushing it a little. Bowie fans may be interested, as I was, jsut to see what it is like, but it holds very few musical merits. This should not be of any interest to an average prog fan.

Cantebury addicts may appreciate the humour, but there's nothing near the complexity of that subgenre here. Two stars for being not totally terrible.