David Bowie – Diamond Dogs Review

Now established as one of the greats of glam rock, David Bowie would continue pushing what could be done in the genre. He would slip out of the rock and roll scene just a year later for a more contemporary, experimental sound. The Berlin Trilogy would be a masterstroke that hears Bowie reinvent himself once more. But there were some last gasps for the Ziggy Stardust days still to deal with, namely Diamond Dogs. It’s here you can hear Bowie starting to lose interest in the persona, but not in the music. He had simply taken this generation of his sound to the very limits of what it could do, and credit to him for reimagining his career when many would’ve been fine with him carrying on, for however long he wanted, with this glam rock Martian. After how much of a misfire Pin Ups had been, an album that offers a genuine farewell to Ziggy Stardust was a necessity, and Bowie got it right on Diamond Dogs.  

One last glam rock push and you can hear the death throes of the genre. But that’s a great experience to have, because it means opener Future Legend enjoys the macabre moment that little bit more. Mutant eyes, corpses, and a worldbuilding minute which makes little difference to the best tracks on Diamond Dogs. All the same, it’s an oddly warm experience, Bowie’s voice fed through a filter which gives him the tone of a dangerous narrator, a character we cannot trust to tell the story with truth. Such a tone is crucial to Diamond Dogs, both the album and the title track. Bowie had clearly been listening to Iggy Pop when he put this one together, the reliance on a heavy percussion is crucial here. It’s a catchy title track with plenty of that classy, suggestive imagery Bowie was so well-suited to writing during this period. Crucial to all of this is Bowie sounds magnificent. Whether it’s the more straight-shooting, piano-led Sweet Thing or standout track Rebel Rebel, he’s in phenomenal form.  

Candidate proves that most of all in the early moments of Diamond Dogs. That subtle increase to the tempo, the slow build and rise with a wailing guitar off in the distance, shops on the corner bringing a kitchen sink drama tinge to what is glam rock with a space-age tint. Diamond Dogs is a staggering achievement, a satisfying conclusion to the rock and roll chapter of Bowie’s career. If it weren’t for the B-side, the post-Rebel Rebel tracks, weighing Diamond Dogs down, it’d be in contention for a spot among Bowie’s very best works. He knows it’s a glam rock blowout; the odds are in his favour to provide some surreal moment that acts as a farewell to the genre. He succeeds. 1984 and Big Brother aside, on the nose material is what it is, but the charming work preceding it feels like a real swansong moment for Ziggy Stardust and the genre Bowie had made a name for himself in. 

You either stick around the same genre until its comfort turns into stagnation, at which point an artist is too far into it to get out cleanly, or you keep a listener guessing. Those in the latter camp, the likes of Arctic Monkeys, Bob Dylan, or Pulp, are vindicated because history looks back fondly on those who dare to risk. There is no risk in familiarity or similarity, and that’s crucial in understanding why Diamond Dogs marked the end of Bowie’s time in glam rock. He pulls out at the right time, and it means we’re left with a fascinating body of work which we can still return to, Pin Ups aside. There are some truly magnificent pieces of work on this album, Rock ‘n’ Roll with Me and We Are the Dead, particularly, make the most use of that Future Legend opener. He was right about that, too, Diamond Dogs is a legendary album.