I've never been much of a follower of David Bowie, but I must say that his latest album has really interested me. It's got the same kind of futuristic vision that made Jimi Hendrix's Electric Ladyland so loftily eerie, an unsettling combination of fact, fiction and fantasy held together by the generally tight level of musicianship we've come to expect from the Bowie corral of musicians.

Bowie's terrible vision begins with the recitation of the shocking, haunting "Future Legend." Through the "Diamond Dogs" cut the mutated creatures stalk the earth for their prey amidst "Brown Sugar" sax riffs. Then into "Sweet Thing," a kind of back-handed, demented love poem flowing from the perversion of values in Bowie's future society. Onward comes "Candidate," in which Bowie paints the contempt held for his constituency by a plasticized, computerized future politician.

Back to "Sweet Thing," then, for a few bars -- which makes sense, since love and politics have always been intertwined. Then the monstrous "Rebel, Rebel," that incredible single Bowie seems capable of making but once every other year -- successor to "Gene Genie" in terms of commerical marketability and sheer sonic delight.

Flip the record over and it's "Rock 'N Roll With Me," another love poem, though Bowie manages to pervert the poem into something quite unlike love poems before it. Then to the gist of the matter, the self-explanatory "We Are The Dead." After all, didn't Bowie start out this endeavor with the succinct "This ain't Rock 'n Roll -- this is genocide"? "1984," a space age Shaft-like anthem then follows, fleshing out the futuristic society. On its heels comes the annoying "Big Brother," rendered frightening not only by its lyrical content but also by its unnerving mellotron and precise saxophone fills. Then finally, "Chant of the Ever Circling Skeletal Family," which is really what's at the center of all this -- the breakdown of the traditional nuclear family unit. The beginning at the end.

I really don't know what to make of this maddenly enchanting record -- but one thing's for sure, I hope it never comes true.

- Gordon Fletcher, Circus Raves, 9-74.

Bonus Reviews!

A subtler, more aesthetic Bowie comes to the forefront here. With all new material on the disk, a shift perhaps not as radical as some folks would like, has taken Bowie into areas which should reinforce his musical presence in the 70's. While acoustic instrumentation never shows up, a number of tunes carry the feeling. Both sides blend extremely well for the best overall results. Best cuts: "1984," "Sweet Thing," "Diamond Dogs," "Big Brother," and "Rebel Rebel."

- Billboard, 1974.

In which a man who has always turned his genuine if unendearing talent for image manipulation to the service of dubious literary and theatrical gifts evolves from harmless kitsch into pernicious sensationalism. Despite two good songs and some thoughful (if unhummable) rock sonorities, this is doomsday purveyed from a pleasure dome. Message: eat, snort, and be pervy, for tomorrow we shall be peoploids -- but tonight how about buying this piece of plastic? C+

- Robert Christgau, Christgau's Record Guide, 1981.

Bowie killed off Ziggy, the character, and The Spiders, his real band, at the end of his '73 UK tour. But this follow-up album simply screams out for Ronson's distinctive style. Returning to the Orwellian theme of his earlier album The Man Who Sold the World, Bowie explores scenes of urban decay and depravity with only the classic single "Rebel Rebel" standing out from the overall pretentiousness of the album.

The sound from Diamond Dogs on CD is muzzy and indistinct in places. Saxophone and cymbals in particular blend and get lost together in a dull wash of sound. None of these tracks has the snap and focus of earlier Bowie albums on CD. Even the single "Rebel Rebel" lacks the expected vocal impact with Bowie's voice being mixed well back in a boxy acoustic.

- David Prakel, Rock 'n' Roll on Compact Disc, 1987.

Mick Ronson and his stinging guitar were gone, as was Bowie's inspiration. Pompous and drenched in doom, it was time for a change, and thankfully, Bowie knew it. The sorry thing is that he still felt it necessary to verify it with the release of this posturing, ill-conceived, and unnecessary album. That said, fairness dictates that the inclusion of "Rebel, Rebel," one of his best songs, be mentioned, and the title track is not without its merits. The Rykodisc reissue contains two bonus cuts: a previously unreleased 1973 track, "Dodo," and the demo version of "Candidate," which is superior to the overproduced vinyl version. The original recording suffered from poor production values, so while the CD's sound is a major improvement, it is still limited by its source. As an added plus, the CD reproduces the original putrid album cover. C

- Bill Shapiro, Rock & Roll Review: A Guide to Good Rock on CD, 1991.

An ambitious smudge of an album, it nevertheless contains some standouts in the lean, riff-heavy hit "Rebel Rebel," the fatalistic futurism of "1984" (an early discoish harbinger of his Thin White Duke era), and the title track. * *

- Rick Clark, The All-Music Guide to Rock, 1995.

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