David Bowie, among his numerous and considerable talents, was a great archivist. Chiefly, he documented his life and interests. All major moments are represented. There is a haunting music video, “Lazarus,” shot just before his death. There are recordings and pictures of his earliest as a mod, then as a folkie.
But, there is also a precise document of David Bowie coming into his own. That document is the “Hunky Dory” album, the culmination of all of David Jones’ juvenile obsessions.
In my detailed article ranking David Bowie’s albums from worst to best, I’ve called “Hunky Dory” his third-best album. I’ll stand by the idea that there are more groundbreaking releases in his oeuvre. But I doubt he has ever written a better collection of songs.
Yes, “Hunky Dory” is not merely the precursor to the global, glam-era inauguration of “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.” No, this is an album where every single songwriting trick Bowie had learned works to perfection. It’s also the moment he realises how to select and harness the power of a great backing band (the future Spiders from Mars – Mick Ronson, Trevor Bolder, Mick Woodmansey, as well as Rick Wakeman).
David Bowie, the Collector of Oddities
Part cook, part hippie, and ever more confident as a would-be rockstar, the album begins with a prophecy and pop anthem, “Changes.” Bowie sings against, warns parents against keeping their children locked up, and advises his supporters to “turn and face the strange.”
In fact, revolutionary tides are very much on Bowie’s mind. On “Quicksand” he talks himself up as potential NIetszschian superman, as questions whether Aleister Crowley and Winston Churchill weren’t merely pawns in this evolutionary game.
On album closer “The Bewlay Brothers,” Bowie launches into a shamanistic folk number in which he recalls the strange, early pursuits of him and his brother.
And, of course, there is time to acknowledge those that David Bowie thinks have already achieved the status of supermen. “Andy Warhol” and “Song for Bob Dylan” are folk-rock hero worship exercises. “Kooks” is reserved for himself and his then-wife, Angie.
But Bowie hasn’t been living in seclusion reading up on esoteric philosophies as the album sleeve would have you believe. He has been listening to the radio too, and knows what’s coming.
Joining “Changes” as songs that radio would’ve been crazy to ignore are the “My Way” derivation of “Life on Mars?” and the irresistible glam-rock stomp of “Oh! You Pretty Things.”
And, if anyone thought Bowie was still a shy, folkie wallflower, he clears things up with the rocking “Queen Bitch”, where he advertises strange romantic liaisons and promises to “push ahead of the dames.”
“Hunky Dory” is a nearly perfect record made by an artist who had toiled in the doldrums of anonymity for a long time. Here, David Bowie is the artist he was always meant to be, helped by the lessons of hard work and experience. Few of Bowie’s heroes ever produced more cohesive and satisfying bodies of work.
