Oh no, not me, I never lost control

David Bowie: The Man Who Sold the World

Bowie’s career (meaning the better-known works to follow this) is an exploration in subversion of sexual roles and Campbellian archetypes. He created from here a series of androgynous superheroes who lead us to (or through) apocalypse, but at this point, he’s still in transition, peddling some sci-fi psychedelic folk/blues rock with only a faint glimmer of glam (although the sexuality is in full bloom). Bowie was still finding his feet with The Man Who Sold the World and it shows, because it never finds quite the same level of riotous energy that his subsequent albums had, and the style veers from Fairport Convention-esque folk-rock to early heavy metal/blues-rock a la Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin.

The Man Who Sold the World is mostly concerned with insanity and war, with a gothic horror sensibility. “Width of a Circle” describes some sort of demonic sexual encounter, the kind of experience that would find people accused of witchcraft for describing in olden days, and likely an outgrowth of mental instability. It’s one of Bowie’s most epic songs, and Mick Ronson’s guitar work on it is electrifying, a glance at the glory to come. “All the Madmen” posits the world as populated entirely by the insane, with the few right-minded individuals in hiding underground, with some very loopy flute parts. Around “After All” the album seems to quite descend into lunacy for a few songs, and doesn’t really recover until the elegant, brilliant title track, a memorable, sly examination of schizophrenic disassociative disorder.

Trouble is, The Man Who Sold the World is pretty uneven. “Black Country Rock” and “She Shook Me Cold” are decent filler, but filler nonetheless. “Running Gun Blues” is a pretty shrill song about Vietnam (or something) and the machine-run utopia song “Saviour Machine” is a bit of a dirge, although it does have some pretty sweet synthesizers. I like “The Supermen” although the other versions of it I’ve heard (such as the one on the deluxe reissue of Ziggy Stardust) are far superior.

The bonus tracks on the Ryko reissue are pretty notable ones. “Lightning Frightening” isn’t spectacular, but a pretty catchy acoustic rock out-take that provides a nice bridge between this and the previous albums, as well as having a lot of the energy that much of this album lacks. “Holy Holy” is a great contemporary single that gives clear indication of the direction Bowie was headed. The other two tracks are the Arnold Corns versions of “Moonage Daydream” and “Hang Onto Yourself” (both later to appear on Ziggy Stardust). While neither of them has a stitch on their fully-realized later versions, they’re still charming works-in-progress that make for an interesting point of comparison for Bowie’s shifting style.

***1/2

~ by jshopa on August 7, 2008.