David Bowie – Hunky Dory Review

Having four all-time great songs to start off your album, three of which would define David Bowie even after he died, is quite the standard to set. Hunky Dory remains somewhat of a surprise with the context of what preceded it in mind. A nightmare of a debut album, a half-decent follow-up in the form of Space Oddity, and then a hint of what could be done on The Man Who Sold the World. Hunky Dory is a masterclass and it kick-started what would prove to be a decade-long stretch of outstanding creative thrills from Bowie. Just staggering. There’s no way around that when Hunky Dory opens with Changes. Give yourself some time away from it, try and forget it was assimilated into modern culture through Shrek 2, and it still draws a refreshing breath. Punchy pop rock with that piano-led glam style proving to be an utter triumph for Bowie and his style. It’s a match made in heaven and one he would adapt to new personas. It all starts, really, with Hunky Dory. 

That’s not to discredit what came before it, especially given how extraordinary The Man Who Sold the World is in parts, but that’s the thing, in parts. Hunky Dory is a masterclass which will be the go-to album for many Bowie fans, and those who are just headed into his discography would do right to start here. How quick Bowie is to change up the theme and tone from song to song, that’s what remains so impressive about Hunky Dory. Changes and Oh! You Pretty Things are two stunning occasions but the former is a chance to reclaim yourself in the face of new opportunities, the latter a chance to reconcile the blurred vision of the future with a sense of futility. That spiralling feeling is adapted well to Eight Line Poem, an underrated gem from Bowie’s discography, a song that is lost to the hits-heavy start of Hunky Dory.  

Hope for life beyond here, not aliens on Mars as Life on Mars? would imply, but a place where new beginnings can really be considered as such, is part of what drives Bowie here. Life on Mars? is still a gorgeous piece of work, an emotionally charged gut punch that’ll always get some moving reaction, such is the case for all great pieces of work, few there may be. A shame about Kooks, though. Light enough to work after the heavy, preceding four songs, but it does play on the singer-songwriter style which dragged Bowie’s debut down. After such a heavy-hitting selection, it’s hard to clear your head of their impact. Listen through again to Hunky Dory but lop the first four songs off so you can focus on the jazz-like style of Fill Your Heart or the neat nod to Bob Dylan with Song for David Bowie.  

Those little notes are a sign of Bowie being not only connected with the contemporary music scene, but ahead of it. He was already showing off material that was far beyond what others in the glam rock genre were capable of making, and with Andy Warhol, the obvious nod to the American artist, it plucks Bowie from the UK music scene and throws him headfirst into US culture. Quite the bold move, and it works. Much of Hunky Dory manages to walk along with UK music scene fundamentals but a crucial, Stateside attitude which Bowie had picked up when listening to The Velvet Underground and Dylan. How brazen he is with crediting his influences is, even now, a surprise. A welcome one, too. Hunky Dory wishes to make itself a part of the art rock scene by praising those who made it vaguely possible for Bowie to do this, and it works brilliantly.