David Bowie – Aladdin Sane Review

Following up an all-time great album is no small feat. David Bowie would do it, though, constantly. Aladdin Sane had the unenviable task of following up The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, not only a perfect collection of brilliant songs but an album which put Bowie on the map. Glam rock fundamentals had been put in place by Bowie on previous albums, and he would carry that concept further on Aladdin Sane. Further does not mean better, though. He lifts a lot from the style of Iggy Pop and The Stooges with the production style heard across this album. It works; that’s not the problem. What the excellent work to follow Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars proves is it had been a striking, one-off occasion from Bowie. His greatest piece of work, with competent, often excitable glam rock to follow. Excess forms a core of Aladdin Sane, which is great on opening track Watch That Man, but it hollows out the possibilities of hit tracks like The Jean Genie.  

Incredible instrumental work and a strong purpose to the vocal range Bowie offers, those are inevitabilities. Stock for Bowie, an unreachable high for many of his peers. Suggestive piano rock appears, too, after The Stooges-inspired Watch That Man. A title track stuffed full of piano, saxophone, and a bit of that off-kilter tension which would form Ashes to Ashes years later is what can be found here. It loses that crucial coolness and surrealist blend in the lyrics, instead placing that burden of brilliance on the instrumentals. Aladdin Sane (1913-1938-197?) is at least a bold step. It’s not enough to copy the past and Bowie knows it. He’d shed the glam rock genre just a few years after Aladdin Sane released, after all. Far more interesting than those progressions are the genre adaptations Bowie makes with Drive-In Saturday. Remove the sci-fi noises and wailing charms and it’d be a suitable Leonard Cohen option. That staggered sentimentality is built firmly on the references of his peers, be it Mick Jagger or Buddy Holly.  

Sharp writing remains, that much is crucial. Cracked Actor is nothing short of sensational. Subtle putdowns of a creative generation, not so subtle comments on why Bowie has taken aim. A strong end to the A-side before a heavy-hitting B-side, packed full of great moments. It’s the inverse of Diamond Dogs, which starts strong and peters out. An incredible back-to-back listen, though. Pair that with Time and it’s hard not to love the borderline rock opera structure Bowie starts creating. There’s a three-piece narrative from Time to The Prettiest Star, though that could be a broader thematic that happens to line up over those tracks. No such thing as coincidence, though. Aladdin Sane has a slight story to it because of the honed criticisms Bowie makes with his writing here, and it works rather well when the piano rock style doesn’t overwhelm him.  

Sometimes that message is lost in the instrumental mix, a bit messy and overwhelmed at times as Bowie reaches the limit of what anyone can do with glam rock. Little flickers of brilliance are found on The Jean Genie which goes against the rock and roll fundamentals Bowie had put in place with earlier songs on Aladdin Sane. A bit of harmonica here, the shaking of maracas there, it’s a soft adaptation of bluesy tones and it works wonderfully. A late-stage peak on an album that doesn’t have the killer instinct or surrealist edge of the preceding album, nor the world-building spectacle of Diamond Dogs. What it does have, though, is a confident showcase of Bowie as a powerful artist. That much would be a definite for the 1970s, a decade which he would mould with stronger efforts than this, but started with years before Aladdin Sane.