Station to Station opens with a synthesized train bumping along the ten-minute title track, and the disembodied voice of a romantic Englishman crooning, "the return of the thin white duke." The form is familiar: monster chording, pointed vocals and racing arrangements. The scenario builds until Bowie cuts away to the second phase of the song, a wrenching piece of power rock peppered with questions: "And who will connect me with love?" and "Does my face show some kind of woe?" He may not be seriously committed to rock, but when the mood strikes it all comes flooding back. Always the actor, David Bowie can assume the role of rocker and make it work.

Unfortunately, his devotion to the role isn't unwavering, and on songs like "Word on a Wing," the bloodless angelic choir and childish soul piano cheapen the elegant, vaguely religious passion of the lyrics and lead vocal. Yet more often than not, the material on Station to Station presents the rock Young Americans forced us to believe would never surface again: "TVC 15," which makes the listener lust for a lyric sheet, has the sort of nondisco drive missing from Bowie's music since "Suffragette City." "Transition," Bowie purrs, "transmission," and the beat becomes a series of minor explosions. "Golden Years" has a more appealing surface and its lush R&B smorgasbord of vocal styles, whistles and classic first-line hook ("Don't let me hear you say life's taking you nowhere") make it Bowie's most seductive self-indulgence since Pin Ups.

Still, the obsessively passionate conviction of his earlier works is missing. It remains the thoughtfully professional effort of a style-conscious artist whose ability to write and perform demanding rock & roll exists comfortably alongside his fascination for diverse forms. It's a much better album than we'd been led to believe Bowie was willing to make, but while there's little doubt about his skill, one wonders how long he'll continue wrestling with rock at all.

- Teri Moris, Rolling Stone, 3/25/76.

Bonus Reviews!

Another good disco effort from Bowie, who seems to have found his musical niche following the success of "Fame" and now "Golden Years." Strong vocals and excellent production from the artist and Harry Maslin are the keys to the set. The lyrics don't seem to mean a great deal, and the 10-minute title cut drags. But as a disco dance album, few faults can be found. Earl Slick's guitars are superb throughout as he leads the instrumental charge. Bass and drums are typical disco. The material may not be as powerful as was the early Bowie, but the LP is indeed filled with infectious, quite commercial material that, in its way, is every bit as alive as anything Bowie has done. Certainly enough of the old Bowie here for the veteran fans, and enough disco to attract a new group. On the whole, a successful venture. Best cuts: "Golden Years," "Station To Station" (particularly the last half), "TVC 15."

- Billboard, 1976.

Miraculously, Bowie's attraction to black music has matured; even more miraculously, the new relationship seems to have left his hard-and-heavy side untouched. Ziggyphiles can call it robotoid if they want -- I admire the mechanical, fragmented, rather secondhand elegance of Aladdin Sane, and this adds soul. All of the six cuts are too long, I suppose, including the one that originated with Johnny Mathis, and David sounds like he's singing to us via satellite. But spaceyness has always been part of his shtick, and anybody who can merge Lou Reed, disco, and Huey Smith -- the best I can do with the irresistible "TVC 15" -- deserves to keep doing it for 5:29. A

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

A transitional effort, it bridges Bowie's clinical pop-disco persona to the icy psychosis and dissonance of this next phase, working with Brian Eno. Almost as ill formed as Diamond Dogs (particularly the title track), but it includes the Top Ten hit "Golden Years" and "TVC15" are highlights. * * * *

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

To get a better taste of Bowie's experimental side, Station to Station is a vital beginning, marking Bowie's first real attempts at deconstructionism -- which, in turn, led to the Bowie/Brian Eno collaborative trilogy of Low, Heroes, and Lodger, though it also included ace pop tunes like "Golden Years" and "Wild is the Wind." * * * * *

- Aidin Vaziri, Musichound Rock: The Essential Album Guide, 1996.

A very early expedition into cold techno-rock territory, this crushingly dramatic album reveals emotional confusion sublimely rendered. Disquieting and intense, with productin that's beyond words, it chronicles Bowie's tranformation from R&R singer to cocaine-fueled robot or, according to others, smooth crooner during the peak of his cool, detached LA phase -- wow, paranoid never sounded so good! * * * * *

- Zagat Survey Music Guide - 1,000 Top Albums of All Time, 2003.

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