More about: David Bowie

The album cover of Aladdin Sane is iconic. From the lightning bolt across his face, to the lick of mercury in his collarbone, this is what we picture when we think of David Bowie. 

But, whilst Aladdin Sane is a certified classic album, it seems like it's rarely mentioned as a fan favourite- it is simply accepted into the cultural zeitgeist as iconography, rather than being referred to through individual songs. 

This may be because Aladdin Sane was released at the moment that Bowie was at the top of his game. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars created Bowie-mania through its shocking, revolutionary nature- Aladdin Sane was audience’s chance to settle into loving Bowie as an artist and musician, rather than observing him with vulgar curiosity. Aladdin Sane is a brilliantly smug glam rock victory lap that exposed the dark reality of being a star.

So, in celebration of 50 years of Aladdin Sane, and in retaliation of the album's surface-level appreciation, let us revisit each of the album’s 10 tracks for a closer look. 

At 50 years, did Aladdin Sane age well?

Watch That Man

Inspired by the New York Dolls, 'Watch That Man' invites you into a raucous afterparty of debauchery that is equal parts exciting and threatening. In fact, the titular man is based on the Dolls’ singer David Johansen.

'Watch That Man' is infamous for its controversial mixing choices. The track’s vocals are quiet and buried in the instrumental, leading to decades of people arguing over whether the song would be better if the vocals were more prominent. 

A remix by Martin Rössel answers that question fairly quickly: yeah, kind of. 

It's just… all of the instruments feel like they’re at the wrong level.

Here is the moment where we can pinpoint the start of a bizarre sonic trend across this album: sounding like various instruments and vocal lines are in weird and confusing places… Having the guitarist pressed up against the studio glass whilst Bowie seems to sing from inside a cupboard, kicking the guitarist down the hallway whilst a harmonica plays from under a table, making backing vocalists piggyback each other whilst the bongos are desperately trying to catch a peak from under a door. 

I clearly don’t understand that mindset, as a retrospective listener, but that doesn’t mean those choices aged well as 'Watch That Man' is completely swallowed up by itself. Maybe the point is to change the way we listen to music, helping us to appreciate the importance of a good instrumental as a way to support the song's message… But that isn't necessarily conducive to a good song. 

Regardless, one thing is true, 'Watch That Man' is undeniably confident in its purposeful choices, and that’s enough.

Aladdin Sane

As first two album tracks go, these are a lot more experimental than memory serves. The album’s namesake, Aladdin Sane is an aptly bizarre and experimental track inspired both by Bowie's third world war conspiracies, and his schizophrenic brother, “A Lad Insane”.

Delicately playing in the darkest sounding mode, the phrygian mode, this track is equal parts unsettling and wistful, with musical inconsistency like passing late night jazz bars as their music spills onto the street. Each section of the song is an unconventional, and frankly weird, 9 bars. So, combined with the fact that the verse and chorus sound like 2 separate songs, it's a surprise that 'Aladdin Sane' comes together so well.

The infamous 'Aladdin Sane' piano solo may feel like someone randomly bashing the keys, but, on closer inspection, it has a purposeful narrative. Starting with dissonant, repeated notes, the unsettling piano is quickly contrasted with manic melodic runs, before leading into a bizarre list of musical quotations like “Rhapsody In Blue” and “Tequila”, then jarringly cutting the nostalgia with aggressively struck chords, and finally relinquishing control back to the other instruments. It feels completely representative of the experience of “A Lad Insane”, and its genius.

Drive In Saturday

Set in the far off year of 2033, 'Drive In Saturday' is part of the “Future Nostalgia” that Bowie formed before Dua Lipa was even born. With heart breaking lyrics like “she's uncertain if she likes him / but she knows she really loves him” set to a yearning doowop backing, it's a mystery that this song didn’t receive greater success.

Masquerading as romantic, the track’s 1950s-esc yearning is a facade, with the lyrics revealing a warped and uncanny portrayal of young love. Without closer inspection, the use of words like “babe” and “gee” suggests the fumbling excitement of young love, but full sentences explore clueless couples who don’t understand the romance they’re trying to replicate… all tied up with a sly nod towards Mick Jagger’s extensive body count. 

The 12/8 time signature creating a doowop swing corrupts and switches mid-chorus, the vacuous backing vocals melodically follow the untethered bass line, the 1950s instrumental illusion is shattered by whirring synthesisers… What does “pour me out another phone” mean?! The world of 'Drive In Saturday' is an eerie future dystopia where everything will be okay… unless you ask questions.

Panic In Detroit

Whilst 'Drive In Saturday' is incredibly underrated, 'Panic In Detroit' is given a little bit too much love (in my opinion anyway)...

This is another song destroyed by mindless panning and mixing choices. Sure, at the time it may have been just the coolest thing to hit music production, but the track’s drums are almost completely in your left ear, rhythm guitar is completely placed right, and Bowie, singing just slightly behind the beat, is stranded in the middle. The absurdity of the panning choices means that Mick Ronson’s searing screaming guitar solo is unsupported, playing in your left ear as wailing backing vocals feel oddly out of place as they aimlessly wail in the middle. It feels irresponsible, letting down some stellar songwriting.

See, 'Panic In Detroit' isn’t a bad song at all. If its production was less careless and more strategically used to create a fuller-sounding song, this actually could be one of Bowie’s best. Bowie’s slightly off-time singing would feel relaxed instead of confidently oblivious, with his vocal doubles not quite lining up, the power of the backing vocals could be more powerfully felt, and the gritty guitar solo would pump the song with energy, getting the attention it deserves.

Until then, forgive me if I call this song messy, like Bowie got ignorantly swept up in the song’s potential.

Cracked Actor

On the surface 'Cracked Actor' is the ultimate sleazy rock star anthem, but, in true Aladdin Sane nature, a dark and desolate underbelly is exposed as Bowie explores the debaucherous and damaging nature of fame. 

In fact, retrospectively this song almost appears prophetic, like Bowie is singing about a future he isn’t quite aware will be his. Knowing this song was written as Bowie was falling into the clutches of a nasty cocaine addiction, crumbling under the excess of stardom, adds a horrifying context that feels like awaiting a car crash.

Whilst 'Cracked Actor' is also victim to absurd panning choices, the heavily panned chaos of the outro feels almost intoxicating as instruments feverishly whirl around you, replicating the sleazy dizzying heights of stardom. This track is so full of hooks that you can’t help but sing along and feel a little provocative and sultry yourself, almost as if Bowie is seducing you into fame’s corruption.

Time

There’s no point endlessly repeating the same point, so, to be direct: 'Time' is also sullied by the disease of irresponsible panning.

The vaudeville piano seems secondary, playing in your right ear like the curtains opening on a sleazy cabaret, as Bowie tells us that Time “flexes like a whore / falls wanking to the floor”. It’s a little startling, but as the song settles into a traditionally swaying ballad that is contrasted with deconstructed instrumentation and purposefully stunted flow it's hard to tell whether the song is actually enjoyable or if it's just the hookiness and Bowie’s impassioned vocal cracks carrying you through…

Regardless, musically 'Time' paints the image of a sad clown desperately trying to shine a light on our bleak, sinister reality, but not being taken seriously as a performing entertainer. The song becomes incrementally weirder and more theatrical until everything cuts to deep exasperated breaths, forcing you to reflect as the metaphorical show twists to become uncanny and sinister. But, before the uneasy feeling sinks in, a screaming guitar solo bursts in, sounding eerily like a wailing voice.

To give credit where credit is due, 'Time' perfectly balances the comfort of hooky pop songs with the discomfort of uncanny theatrics, leading to the overwhelming feeling that everything is not quite what it seems. It can be enjoyed on both levels, and that's versatility!

The Prettiest Star

Did you know Marc Bolan played guitar on 'The Prettiest Star'? You can hear his touch like a teasing smirk- it gives the track’s peppy innocence a needed suggestive edge. However, Tony Visconti, the track's producer, was right… The Prettiest Star is a little dated- with Drive In Saturday more successfully co-opting 50s nostalgia.

It's not a bad song by any means. If anything, it shows Bowie’s power in writing emotionally interesting yet restrained melodies. But, because the main instrumental is unadventurous, the song falls at your feet as lovely but simple and unengaging.

Let’s Spend The Night Together

It feels, at this point, like the album is fizzling out, and even though Let’s Spend The Night Together brings a welcome boost in energy, it's a Rolling Stones cover… and a cover that’s worse than the original, at that. 

This cover’s manic and detached energy makes it feel a little unfinished and rushed, and the originally endearing lines “let's spend the night together / now I need you more than ever” become highlighted for their cheap rhyming, like little to no effort was put into the song's composition. 

The reduced, bluesy outro brings back an element of “cool”, but the gritty seduction of the first half of the album has been completely lost, like having a bucket of cold water dumped on your head.

The Jean Genie

The appearance of 'The Jean Genie' couldn’t have come soon enough. 

"Combined with Bowie’s almost apathetic vocal delivery, 'The Jean Genie' effortlessly drips with cool"

Finally, the aggressive separation of guitars into opposite ears actually works, with each guitar's unique pattern interlocking to create a groove that doesn’t feel forced. Combined with Bowie’s almost apathetic vocal delivery, 'The Jean Genie' effortlessly drips with cool- even the harmonica takes a backseat, confident that it doesn’t need to yell to be heard. 

Is 'The Jean Genie' one of the greatest songs of all time? No, but it's straightforward, playful, essentially Bowie and hyper-effective in setting a mood.

Lady Grinning Soul

What a bizarre way to finish an album. 'Lady Grinning Soul' feels both like Bowie’s lost James Bond theme and a suggestive precursor to his final album Blackstar. 

With 'Lady Grinning Soul' closing the album, 'The Jean Genie' feels misplaced in the track listing, with the album’s last 3 tracks contrasting in a way that pulls you between emotions before you’ve had a chance to explore them. Lyrics like “she’ll drive a beetle car” feel a little clunky and inhuman, like Bowie has forgotten how to eloquently express himself.

'Lady Grinning Soul' is understated, but never boring. However, the song doesn’t particularly go anywhere until the last minute, where searing hot guitars overlap knowingly either side of you, building up before… fading out? 'Lady Grinning Soul' is a fine track, but its potential was huge. If only Bowie had leant into the building outro, creating a dramatic climax to satisfactorily round the album out! 

Overall:

Aladdin Sane is possibly Bowie’s most sensual album, jumping from the burning heart of 'Drive In Saturday' to the unabashedly smutty 'Cracked Actor', making sure to stop in the uncanny valley along the way. Ignoring a couple of outliers, the majority of this album is dynamic yet cohesive, taking one mood and perfecting it.

Maybe the reason we see this album for its iconography and not its music is because of its shortsighted production making it inherently unlistenable on a casual level. It's still a brilliant album, but more so in appreciating it as art rather than as individual songs.

So, did Aladdin Sane age well? Not overwhelmingly, no. 

After re-listening I can feel myself melt from adamantly defending Aladdin Sane to somewhere a little more angry and unsure. It feels like this album was a victim of manic rushing and reckless usage of new production techniques. In this way it's almost as if this album itself fell victim to Bowie's cocaine usage, which is an extremely frustrating prospect.

We will never know what it could have been, so we just have to accept it for what it is now: a perfect capsule of Bowie’s life in 1973- both the good and the bad.

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More about: David Bowie