50. Let Me Sleep Beside You (1967)
Initially rejected as a single and later unearthed on a 1970 compilation to capitalize on Bowie’s rising fame, “Let Me Sleep Beside You” marked the inaugural collaboration between Bowie and producer Tony Visconti. Surpassing the material on his self-titled debut album, this track, propelled by acoustic guitar, hinted at the artistic avenues Bowie would explore. A captivatingly peculiar and subtly sinister undertone permeates the lyrical invitations, exemplified by the line, “Wear the dress your mother wore.”
49. I Would Be Your Slave (2001)
“Heathen,” a consistently compelling album, showcased Bowie’s songwriting prowess, ranging from the mundane – “Everyone Says Hi,” a letter to his adult son – to the enigmatic. “I Would Be Your Slave,” a standout track, occupies a space in between. Appearing on the surface as a love song, it gradually unveils itself as a contemplation of faith and perhaps, a love song to God. The melody resonates with beauty, while the arrangement – Visconti’s signature strings interwoven with electronic rhythms – achieves perfect equilibrium.
48. Loving the Alien (1984)
“Loving the Alien” stands as a solitary spark of brilliance within the otherwise uninspired landscape of 1984’s “Tonight.” A genuinely exceptional song delving into themes of religion, it suffers from the heavy-handed production that characterized the album. A 2018 remix offers some improvement, yet the stripped-down live renditions from the 2000s, readily accessible online, are even more compelling. The much-discussed demo version, often lauded by Bowie himself in later years, remains elusive to listeners.
47. Jump They Say (1993)
Upon its release, “Jump They Say” was heralded as a triumphant return to form, preceding the album “Black Tie White Noise.” While the album as a whole didn’t entirely live up to this hype, the lead single was undeniably fantastic. Its nervous, yet commercially viable funk foundation is juxtaposed with somber lyrics that revisited the poignant subject of Bowie’s half-brother Terry’s mental health struggles, this time specifically addressing his suicide in 1985.
46. The London Boys (1966)
Significantly, Bowie’s first truly great song, “The London Boys,” centered on the theme of outsiders. With stark instrumentation featuring brass and woodwind, it paints a vivid picture of those – much like a young Bowie himself – who found themselves on the periphery of the vibrant Swinging London scene, observing the festivities from a distance. The song evokes the atmosphere of a monochrome kitchen-sink drama, compressed into a concise three-minute narrative.
45. Fantastic Voyage (1979)
“Lodger,” the album opener, presented a rarity in Bowie’s extensive catalog: a protest song. “Fantastic Voyage” drew inspiration from the ongoing Cold War and the pervasive nuclear anxieties of the era. Its fusion of anger and a sense of fatalism retains its relevance today. Musically, the track subtly reimagines “Boys Keep Swinging,” sharing the same key and chord progression, albeit at a slower tempo.
David Bowie performing in Rotterdam, Netherlands during his 1976 tour, showcasing his dynamic stage presence.
44. Lady Stardust (1972)
Within the theatrical grandeur of “Ziggy Stardust,” “Lady Stardust” emerges as its most emotionally resonant moment, delivered through one of its most straightforward compositions. Driven by Mick Ronson’s evocative piano work, the song paints a poignant scene: an over-hyped gig by a burgeoning band, observed by a man in the audience reflecting sadly as his former, younger lover ascends to stardom. The lyric, “I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey,” encapsulates the bittersweet emotion.
43. Seven Years in Tibet (1997)
Bowie’s enthusiastic foray into drum ‘n’ bass on “Earthling” was a notable experiment, but the album’s true gem lay elsewhere. “Seven Years in Tibet,” Bowie suggested, drew inspiration from 60s soul and the Pixies. Regardless of its precise influences, the song’s dramatic shifts from eerie, atmospheric passages to explosive, wall-of-sound choruses are undeniably exhilarating. It stands as an often-overlooked triumph from Bowie’s 90s output.
42. Something in the Air (1998)
Another underrated gem from Bowie’s 90s era, “Something in the Air” hails from the coolly received “Hours…” album. The track is characterized by both its limpid beauty and underlying melancholy. Lyrically, it’s steeped in regret, with Bowie’s vocal delivery sounding parched and pained, subtly distorted by electronic effects. As the song builds to its chorus, it achieves an anthemic quality, hinting at the grandeur of “All the Young Dudes.”
41. Joe the Lion (1977)
“Joe the Lion” defies easy interpretation. Beyond the opening lines referencing the boundary-pushing performance artist Chris Burden – “Tell you who you are if you nail me to my car” – the lyrics become largely nonsensical. The music itself – a frenzied tapestry of arcing, atonal guitar and manic backing vocals – sounds intentionally deranged. Bowie’s vocal performance is that of a man teetering on the edge of a breakdown. Yet, in its chaos, it’s undeniably and ridiculously exciting.
40. Hallo Spaceboy (1995)
Following a decade of mainstream appeal, Bowie consciously positioned “Outside” as a significant artistic statement. While the album occasionally feels overly deliberate, its highlights are undeniably strong. A Pet Shop Boys remix of “Hallo Spaceboy,” referencing “Space Oddity,” achieved commercial success. However, the original version of “Hallo Spaceboy” stands as a more powerful creation – a pummeling, chaotic, and ultimately hypnotic track.
39. I Can’t Read (1989)
Tin Machine, Bowie’s hard rock venture, has largely not aged gracefully. “I Can’t Read,” however, is the compelling exception. A brilliant and anguished exploration of the creative paralysis that plagued Bowie during the 1980s, the song unfolds over a dense wall of sheet metal guitars and feedback. It’s a raw and honest confrontation with artistic stagnation.
David Bowie in a pensive moment in 1975, capturing his enigmatic persona during a pivotal era in his career.
38. Rock’n’Roll Suicide (1972)
Ostensibly the tragic finale to the “Ziggy Stardust” narrative, drawing influences from French chanson and 50s pop, “Rock’n’Roll Suicide” took on a different, celebratory dimension as Bowie’s own stardom ascended. The epic coda, culminating in his passionate cry of “You’re not alone / Give me your hands / You’re wonderful,” became an anthem of connection with his devoted fanbase.
37. Bring Me the Disco King (2003)
“Bring Me the Disco King,” the closing track on “Reality,” Bowie’s final album before a decade-long hiatus, possesses a fitting sense of finality. It could have served as a poignant farewell. A beautiful, weary, uncertain, and elegiac reflection on the 1970s, the song is anchored by Mike Garson’s distinctive piano, which transitions seamlessly from hypnotic to jarringly surprising.
36. Always Crashing in the Same Car (1977)
Bowie himself later dismissed “Always Crashing in the Same Car” as “self-pitying crap,” a reflection of his own despondent state during the recording of “Low” rather than an accurate assessment of the song’s quality. In reality, it’s a sublime fragment of moody paranoia, featuring detached-sounding vocals, electronics that oscillate between bubbling and droning, and wiry, effects-laden guitar work.
35. Stay (1976)
“It’s not the side-effects of the cocaine,” Bowie famously (and unconvincingly) protested on “Station to Station’s” title track. However, “Stay,” a taut, twitchy funk-rock hybrid, audibly bore the marks of that era’s excesses. As with much of “Station to Station,” the chaotic creative process (“a cocaine frenzy,” according to guitarist Carlos Alomar) belies the polished final product. “Stay” is perfectly poised and brimming with confidence.
34. Cracked Actor (1973)
A particular strain of Bowie’s songwriting from 1973-74 evokes the sensation of someone who has experienced every excess imaginable. “Cracked Actor” stands as perhaps the ultimate example. A sleazy, bitter outburst of distorted guitar, seemingly moments away from collapse, it is both intensely raw and electrifying.
33. Moonage Daydream (1972)
“The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” is replete with high-drama rock anthems, but “Moonage Daydream” reigns supreme among them. Shifting from the opening guitar chord’s assertive call to something altogether weirder and more ominous – its concluding encouragement to “freak out” sounds less like an invitation and more like a command – it culminates in a mind-bending guitar solo by Mick Ronson.
32. Diamond Dogs (1974)
Halloween Jack, the persona Bowie adopted for “Diamond Dogs,” never achieved the same cultural penetration as Ziggy Stardust or the Thin White Duke. This was certainly not due to any failing of the album’s title track. “Diamond Dogs” is a propulsive, compelling strut that manages to be simultaneously sensual and dark, immediately apparent in its unsettling opening cry: “This ain’t rock n’ roll, this is … genocide!”
David Bowie performing live in New York City in 1973, embodying the glam rock energy of the Ziggy Stardust era.
31. The Width of a Circle (1970)
While not every track on Bowie’s self-consciously heavy album “The Man Who Sold the World” entirely succeeds, its opening track, “The Width of a Circle,” is remarkable. It begins with an acoustic guitar melody reminiscent of his 1969 self-titled album before exploding into something radically different: an eight-minute, Ronson-fueled homoerotic epic, swaggering with newfound confidence and ambition.
30. John, I’m Only Dancing (1972)
Deemed too controversial for release in the US at the time, “John, I’m Only Dancing” playfully subverted the era’s sexual norms. Lyrically, it presents a heterosexual relationship as the shocking, transgressive anomaly. The music, meanwhile, sashays with insouciance. In another instance of inspired borrowing, the guitar riff is lifted directly from Alvin Cash’s 1968 funk hit, “Keep on Dancing.”
29. The Buddha of Suburbia (1993)
Proof of Bowie’s unpredictable creative trajectory: it took a BBC Two adaptation of Hanif Kureishi’s “The Buddha of Suburbia” to reignite his full creative power. Amidst the album’s Blackstar-esque free-jazz experiments and “Low”-inspired instrumentals, resided the fantastic, self-referential title track. “The Buddha of Suburbia” is a keen sketch of a pre-fame Bowie, “screaming along in south London … ready to learn.”
28. Fame (1975)
Conjured spontaneously in the studio – and reportedly constructed by Bowie cutting up a recording of Alomar playing a cover of the Flares’ 1961 hit “Foot Stompin’” – “Fame” is a superb slice of funk, rendered edgy and unsettling by Bowie’s pained vocal delivery. The lyrics offer a jaundiced perspective on the very subject of the song: “The flame that burns your change to keep you insane.”
27. Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) (1980)
Boasting a deliberately theatrical mockney vocal – “she ’ad an ’orror of rooms” – the title track of “Scary Monsters” apparently dated back to the early 1970s. Bowie had initially considered offering it to Iggy Pop before reconsidering. It stands as the album’s most viscerally exciting moment: frenzied and aggressive, distorting everything from the guitars to Bowie’s own voice.
David Bowie performing on his ambitious Glass Spider Tour in 1987, showcasing his theatrical stagecraft and enduring appeal.
26. All the Young Dudes (1972)
Glam rock’s unofficial anthem. “All the Young Dudes” announced the arrival of a new era in pop music through a Lou Reed-esque cast of characters – cross-dressers, speed freaks contemplating suicide – and a timely, remarkably confident rejection of the past: “My brother’s back at home with his Beatles and his Stones … what a drag.” It was a declaration of generational shift.
25. Space Oddity (1969)
In his comprehensive book, “The Complete David Bowie,” Nicholas Pegg astutely observes that the episodic “Space Oddity” sounds like something the 1960s Bee Gees might have composed at their most eccentric. He’s entirely correct. However, where the Bee Gees might have amplified the melodrama, Bowie perfectly embodies a mood of blank-eyed, space-age alienation, capturing the anxieties of the burgeoning space age.
24. Where Are We Now? (2013)
The immense excitement surrounding Bowie’s surprise return with “The Next Day” may have led to a slight overestimation of the album as a whole. However, its finest moments are undeniably magnificent, not least “Where Are We Now?”. This track is a poignant recollection of Bowie’s late 1970s sojourn in Berlin. Fond, nostalgic, and touchingly fragile, it remains deeply moving.
23. The Man Who Sold the World (1970)
“The Man Who Sold the World” is a song that has been reinterpreted across genres, from pop-soul (Lulu) to a despairing acoustic commentary on global success and punk rock ethics (Nirvana). Yet, Bowie’s original version remains unsurpassed. The title track of his most unsettling album remains mysterious, eerie, and haunting even 50 years after its release.
22. I Can’t Give Everything Away (2016)
Among the “Blackstar” songs whose meaning became profoundly clear in the wake of Bowie’s passing, “I Can’t Give Everything Away” is perhaps the most affecting. The music possesses a glorious buoyancy, yet the lyrics are undeniably a farewell. The musical quotation from “A New Career in a New Town” from “Low” adds a layer of perfectly judged and poignant resonance.
21. Fashion (1980)
“Fashion” is a brilliantly claustrophobic, reggae-influenced post-punk funk track that casts a cynical eye on the ever-shifting trends of the hip and fashionable world. The ironic tone of “Fashion” seemed to be largely missed upon its release, perhaps because the notion of David Bowie, of all people, protesting against fleeting trends was perceived as somewhat hypocritical.
20. The Bewlay Brothers (1971)
A compelling argument can be made that the extraordinary surge of songwriting brilliance on “Hunky Dory” renders it Bowie’s greatest album. Its most striking moment might well be its exceptional, enigmatic acoustic finale, “The Bewlay Brothers.” Possibly a depiction of Bowie’s complex relationship with his half-brother Terry, the song transitions from tranquil to chilling to genuinely disturbing.
A young David Bowie in 1967, early in his career, showcasing the nascent artistry that would soon captivate the world.
19. The Jean Genie (1973)
“The Jean Genie” encapsulates “Aladdin Sane’s” Ziggy-goes-to-America concept in miniature. Tougher and sleazier than anything on “Ziggy Stardust,” its “I’m A Man”-esque guitar riff and harmonica bursts sound deliberately and gloriously filthy. For anyone inclined to romanticize pop music’s past, it’s worth noting that “The Jean Genie” was held off the No. 1 spot by Jimmy Osmond’s saccharine “Long-Haired Lover From Liverpool.”
18. Let’s Dance (1983)
The crucial difference between “Let’s Dance” and Bowie’s other 1980s pop albums is that his heart was demonstrably in it. Even if his primary motivation was commercial success, he made a genuine artistic effort. While its title track signaled a temporary departure from the avant-garde, “Let’s Dance” remains a superb song, nervier and more unconventional than its global smash status might suggest.
17. Win (1975)
“Win,” a ballad draped in echoing, fluttering saxophone, is undeniably gorgeous. Despite Bowie’s insistence that it was an attack on artistic rivals he perceived as lacking in dedication, there is an undeniable sensuality to the song, particularly in his delivery of the line: “Someone like you should not be allowed to start any fires.”
16. Rebel Rebel (1974)
Bowie’s fabulous, valedictory farewell to glam rock, “Rebel Rebel” is essentially a loving tribute to the legions of kids he had inspired. A metaphorical arm around the shoulder of every teenage misfit who had ever posed in front of a bedroom mirror. “You tacky thing,” he sings, with clear delight, “you put them on” – all set to one of the most iconic rock riffs of all time.
15. Changes (1971)
A perfectly crafted, irresistible mission statement, “Changes,” while perhaps not fully heeded upon its initial release, has become one of Bowie’s most beloved songs. “It’s saying: ‘Look, I’m going to be so fast, you’re not going to keep up with me,’” Bowie explained. It might be considered youthful arrogance were it not for the fact that his subsequent career so definitively validated this bold declaration.
14. Golden Years (1976)
A moment of pure, unadulterated joy amidst the complex and often troubled emotional landscape of “Station to Station,” “Golden Years” perfectly matches its lyrical optimism with shimmering, glittering funk. What the song might have sounded like had Bowie’s original intention to give it to Elvis Presley come to fruition remains a fascinating point of speculation.
13. Absolute Beginners (1985)
The theme song for Julien Temple’s universally panned film of the same name, “Absolute Beginners” arguably represents the high point of Bowie’s 1980s commercial phase. A stately, sweeping, and undeniably powerful love song, it reunited him with pianist Rick Wakeman. At a period often considered an artistic low point for Bowie, it proved he could still write incredible songs when the inspiration struck.
12. Boys Keep Swinging (1979)
Initially met with disappointment upon release, “Lodger’s” reputation has steadily grown over the years. While uneven overall, it contains some truly exceptional songs, not least “Boys Keep Swinging.” This track condensed the kind of sonic overload found on “‘Heroes'” into a sparkling three-minute pop song, complete with lyrics that archly and camply celebrated machismo.
11. Starman (1972)
“Starman” transcends being merely a song; it’s a cultural moment. Its epochal “Top of the Pops” performance is arguably the most celebrated piece of music television in British history. A series of compelling musical thefts – drawing from T Rex, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and Blue Mink’s recent hit “Melting Pot” (specifically the morse code guitar riff) – it served as a brazen announcement of Bowie’s commercial and artistic rebirth.
10. Drive-In Saturday (1973)
Glam doo-wop embellished with bursts of fizzing synthesizer, “Drive-In Saturday” is one of Bowie’s greatest singles, despite its peculiar lyrical premise. Set “about 2033,” nuclear war has caused humanity to forget the mechanics of sex, necessitating the relearning of seduction techniques from old films. Incredibly, given its somewhat bizarre subject matter, the song manages to sound swooningly romantic.
David Bowie in 1999, showcasing his enduring style and artistic relevance as he continued to innovate through decades.
9. ’Tis a Pity She Was a Whore (2016)
Before “Blackstar” was revealed to be the most exquisitely orchestrated final act in rock history, it initially sounded thrillingly like a bold new beginning. “‘Tis a Pity She Was a Whore” is driven by a relentless, intense drum loop adorned with squalls of saxophone. It was unlike anything Bowie had created before. His final, exultant whoop at the song’s conclusion suggests he was acutely aware of its brilliance.
8. Oh! You Pretty Things (1971)
An apocalyptic undercurrent ran through Bowie’s songwriting almost from the very beginning – evident in tracks like “We Are Hungry Men” from his 1967 debut. However, this strain was never more beautifully articulated than in “Oh! You Pretty Things.” The song sets an incredibly bleak, almost dystopian message against a melody so exquisitely lovely it could conceivably be covered by the lead singer of Herman’s Hermits, showcasing Bowie’s mastery of contrast.
7. Young Americans (1975)
“Young Americans” marks the point in Bowie’s career where it became unequivocally clear that he possessed the ability to adopt virtually any musical genre and mold it to his singular artistic vision. A white British rock star embracing the breezy, luxurious sound of Philly soul should have, by all accounts, failed spectacularly. Instead, it succeeded triumphantly, to life-affirming effect.
6. Sweet Thing/Candidate/Sweet Thing (Reprise) (1974)
The medley that forms the heart of side one of “Diamond Dogs” represents the album’s decadent core. Seven minutes of music that pushes glam rock to its absolute limit. It’s so steeped in decadence and a sense of decay that it must have been genuinely difficult to imagine where Bowie could possibly venture next. As it turned out, he was only just beginning to explore the outer reaches of his creativity.
5. “Heroes” (1977)
Its ubiquity in posthumous uplifting sports montages and soundtracks has, ironically, somewhat obscured the inherent strangeness and ambiguity of “‘Heroes'”. The song has, metaphorically, lost the quotation marks around its title. But perhaps this widespread adoption is itself a testament to Bowie’s unique alchemy: only he could transmute six minutes of pulsing electronic noise, howling guitars, and screamed vocals into an all-purpose, air-punching anthem of resilience and hope.
4. Life on Mars? (1971)
A definitive masterpiece, requiring no further explanation. Bolstered by Mick Ronson’s magnificent string arrangement, “Life On Mars?’s” bewildering rush of images almost defies rational interpretation. Yet, it arguably stands as Bowie’s first clear clarion call to suburban misfits and dreamers. It speaks volumes about the sheer power of its melody that a song so lyrically impenetrable has become so universally beloved and emotionally resonant.
3. Station to Station (1976)
By his own admission, Bowie was so out of control during the recording of “Station to Station” that he couldn’t even fully recall the process. Despite this chaotic genesis, he somehow managed to create a work of awe-inspiring power and focus, exemplified by the epic title track. The transition into its second section – “Once there were mountains and mountains” – is arguably the single most exhilarating and transcendent moment in his entire vast catalogue.
2. Ashes to Ashes (1980)
“Ashes to Ashes” represents one of those pivotal moments in Bowie’s career where the only appropriate response is to simply stand back and marvel in awe. Presumably a depiction of its author during his drug-addled mid-1970s nadir, everything about it – the lingering strangeness of its sonic landscape, its constantly shifting melody and emotional tenor, its lyrics that oscillate between self-mythologizing grandeur and self-doubting vulnerability – is utterly and completely perfect.
David Bowie (1947-2016), a legendary artist whose innovative music and persona left an indelible mark on popular culture.
1. Sound and Vision (1977)
Selecting Bowie’s 50 best songs is an inherently thankless task. His vast back catalogue is so exceptionally rich that any such list inevitably requires omitting tracks every bit as deserving as those included: “Queen Bitch,” “Suffragette City,” “Be My Wife,” “Dollar Days,” to name but a few. Choosing his absolute best is an even more daunting prospect. However, “Sound and Vision” stands as both a phenomenal pop song and an act of audacious artistic daring. A three-minute hit single that withholds the lead vocal until the halfway point, it transforms a despondent lyric into something ultimately uplifting and, musically, transcends the constraints of time. Utterly original, nothing about its sonic texture anchors it definitively to the mid-1970s. Its enigmatic magic seems to encapsulate the very essence of David Bowie.
