10 David Bowie Songs That Could Do With A Bit More Exposure

Since it’s the three year anniversary of the passing of one of the country’s most beloved and influential musicians, I thought I’d compile a list of some of his perhaps lesser-known recordings that I feel are well worth a listen.

‘Blackout’ from “Heroes” (1977)

Whether the title pertains to either the rolling blackouts that plagued postwar Berlin or the likely blackouts ensuing from Bowie’s mid-seventies period is unclear but ‘Blackout’ fits either one. The babbling lyric and frantic drums during the breakdown provide a wonderful sense of madness.

‘Jump They Say’ from ‘Black Tie White Noise’ (1993)

Touted as Bowie’s solo comeback single after Tin Machine’s dissolution, ‘Jump They Say’ actually has a similar musical palette to swan song ‘Blackstar’, namely that of deranged jazz. Throughout, Bowie’s voice goes between detached resignation and flashes of panic and dread, giving the impression of a mind coming apart at the seams.

Inspired in part by half-brother Terry Burn’s 1985 suicide, the video homages classic sci-fi films like 2001 while foreshadowing the kind of workplace paranoia and atrocities that would come to dominate the decade’s cinema in ‘Fight Club’ and ‘American Psycho’

Although it hit Number 9 on the UK charts, none of Bowie’s nineties hits had the kind of resonance that his seventies work enjoyed, sadly.

‘The Hearts Filthy Lesson’ from ‘Outside’ (1995)

Even as a fan of ‘Outside’ (or ‘1. Outside’), I’ll admit it’s an overstuffed affair at 75 minutes and 19 tracks several of which are largely ‘mood pieces’ consisting of distorted monologues and abstract backing tracks. ‘Outside’ is certainly Bowie’s most obvious homage to William Burroughs, with its many cutup lyrics featuring the entwinement of murder and art (dubbed as ‘artcrime’ in the liner notes/manual) and a fragmented but disturbing narrative. Berlin collaborator Brian Eno even returned after almost fifteen years, so ‘Outside’ was never going to be seen as much of a commercial sell.

That said, lead single ‘The Hearts Filthy Lesson’ encapsulated much of the best parts of both seventies and nineties Bowie in one track. ‘Aladdin Sane’ piano lines and Nine Inch Nails-like guitar fuzz coupled with a thoroughly unhinged vocal and video made for an effective statement of intent. This wasn’t your Dad’s Ziggy Stardust, for sure.

Unfortunately, it didn’t make for much of a hit and ‘Outside’s billing as part one of a three or even five act cycle was soon forgotten although rumours of sequel material persist. Bowie reportedly had plans for a follow-up as late as the week before his death.

That said, ‘Outside’s ideas of ‘art crime’ and ritualistic sacrifices would see a sort-of successor in ‘Blackstar’ tracks ‘Sue (Or In A Season Of Crime)’ and ‘Girl Loves Me’.

‘The Motel’ from ‘Outside’ (1995)

One of three key points where Bowie addresses the narrative he’s constructing from a different viewpoint.

An epic on a small scale. Everything’s a little bit small and seedy but the crisis of Bowie’s own artistry takes the centre. 

‘The Motel’ reads like a bonfire for his own theatricality, in parts playing like an elegy to the theatricalities of Ziggy Stardust and the Diamond Dogs and Glass Spider sets, a premature ‘Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide a third of the way in.

“Explosion falls upon deaf ears
While we're swimming in a sea of sham
Living in the shadow of vanity
A complex fashion for a simple man”

You could think of ‘The Motel’ as another dig at the eighties but I’d argue it goes further, the final line above being Bowie taking aim at himself. The Glass Spider Tour’s theatricality overshadowed the music at times, with dance and theatre numbers between several tracks as Bowie toured for one of his weakest albums. ‘The Motel’ reads in part like a confession that all the showbiz eroded the value of the work.

All these bells and whistles, all this ceremony to cover up one’s own insecurities at the fact that nothing anyone does really matters. God, that’s depressing.

If Tin Machine was the musical rebuke to the position Bowie had got himself into by the end of the eighties, then ‘The Motel’ could be seen as a lyrical follow-up.

It’s this spiral into existential despair both within the album’s narrative and on the outside.

‘I’m Afraid Of Americans’ (V1 Remix Edit) from ‘Earthling’ (1997)

And the winner of ‘hilariously/worryingly prophetic track’ goes to this one surely.

Despite the hyperbolic title and video, the song deals with the sad resignation to cultural homogenisation, or as Bowie himself put it:

“I was traveling in Java when [its] first McDonald's went up: it was like, "for fuck's sake." The invasion by any homogenized culture is so depressing, the erection of another Disney World in, say, Umbria, Italy, more so. It strangles the indigenous culture and narrows expression of life.”

Maybe there’s a meta joke in having American Bowie fan and nineties Bowie replacement Trent Reznor dominate both the new arrangement and music video. In it, Reznor plays a convincing thug who pursues a paranoid Bowie through New York. The elder artist hallucinates acts of violence all around him as he runs, perhaps a wry nod to the clash between UK and US cultures around guns.

It’s since become a late-era favourite, with Bowie playing it through his final few tours and Reznor performing it frequently with Nine Inch Nails since 2013.

It’s Gonna Be Me (Strings Version) - Outtake from ‘Young Americans’ (1975), 2007 Special Edition

The most luxurious sending track from the ‘Young Americans’ sessions, and possibly one of the saddest songs Bowie ever wrote. 

The lyric, particularly the part “I want to race down her street / And knock hard / Hard, hard on the door until / Until she breaks down into my arms like a / Treasured toy and I feel her pain / I’ll be so strong, again and again” has made me think of this as a bizarro-version of “Heroes”. Rather than an anonymous howl against the tide, ‘It’s Gonna Be Me’ opts for drowning alone up close and personal.

Ignore the demoey ’Gouster’ version off Parlophone’s exploitative box set and listen to the ‘strings version’; they’re essential to the track.

The part around the 4:30 mark where Bowie leans right in to the microphone captures all the intimacy the album cover suggests.

‘Who Can I Be Now?’ - Outtake from ‘Young Americans’ (1975), 2007 Special Edition

Another outtake track, and along with ‘It’s Gonna Be Me’ this really shouldn’t have been cut in favour of the dodgy cover of ‘Across The Universe’. (Said cover was done mainly to butter John Lennon up to get him in the studio, surely it had served it’s purpose by then?)

Anyway, whether you approach this as Bowie making another wry nod to his chameleonic nature a la ‘Changes’ or just as a straight soul track, it’s well worth a listen.

‘Atomica’ - Outtake from ‘The Next Day’ (2013), 2013 ’The Next Day Extra’ bonus disc

Starting from 1999’s ’Hours’, David Bowie entered what he dubbed as his ‘neo-classicist’ era. A more cynical commentator may also describe this as the point where Bowie stopped trying (at least until ‘Blackstar’). If they did then I’d point to ‘Atomica’, one of the most out and out rockers from ‘The Next Day’s sessions. It’s one of his most straight up campy and fun tracks from the post-millennium period, second only to the next track.

‘Pablo Picasso’ from ‘Reality’ (2003)

 For me, this one of his most underrated covers off one of his most underrated albums. 2003’s ‘Reality’ actually has a very similar crew behind it to ’The Next Day’ (hot take: I feel TND is overrated for what is a pretty boilerplate album, especially next to ‘Blackstar’)

What’s more, ‘Reality’ actually has a few more fun numbers to boot. Take this cover of a Modern Lovers track from the 1970s. Bowie’s best covers come across like tracks that an idle listener wouldn’t think were covers, and that’s the case here. The rhyming couplet “Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole” could have been a classic Bowie line from the seventies.

‘The Supermen’ (1971 Rerecording), originally from ‘The Man Who Sold The World’ (1970)

This version was recorded during the ‘Ziggy Stardust’ sessions and released on the 1972 Glastonbury Fayre compilation album. 

Later released on the 1990 Rykodisc version of ‘Hunky Dory’ (1971) and the 30th Anniversary reissue of ‘The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars’ (1972, 2002). Good luck finding any of those.

I really like the Nietzsche reference in the title and Bowie’s operatic vocal performance and this acoustic rerecording juxtaposes this with a subdued new arrangement. I could hear this being sung at either Glastonbury or around a bonfire and it would fit.

‘Under The God’ from ‘Tin Machine’ (1989)

Tin Machine were nobody’s favourite band. 

As far as record companies were concerned, they were ‘Metal Machine Music’ turned artistic quartet. They released two albums and a concert recording and only the first album is available on iTunes. This is partly due to label issues but it’s not too big a jump to imagine some people wanted to forget about the whole thing.

David Bowie argued that his time with Tin Machine rejuvenated him artistically and it lead to him producing much more interesting and experimental material than any of his 1983-7 material. Tin Machine’s role in Bowie’s career is unfairly omitted from almost all career retrospectives and it is difficult to reimagine famous rock artist David Bowie deliberately becoming part of an anonymous rock band for a few years.

But it happened, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that the album’s alright.

In particular, one of their first UK singles (charting at a whopping number 51) was actually a pretty catchy proto-grunge number. A poppy hook in hard rock clothing that encapsulates their reputation as a Nirvana precursor.

David Bowie’s work will no doubt go on to inspire countless generations and I’m thankful that so much of his work exists. R.I.P.