Music Arcades: David Bowie: Diamond Dogs

One time I was flicking through my CD racks looking for another album, and I came across Diamond Dogs. I had completely forgotten that I'd ever owned a copy.

Looking at my records, I bought it on 25 April 2003 (for a fiver from Fopp). I bet that was a nod to Jane's influence. But that relationship was over within a matter of weeks, apparently before the music purchases it inspired even had a chance to register, let alone leave a wistful sentiment in my heart.

I wish I'd got Young Americans or Station to Station instead (I've still yet to hear those albums), for this seems like a pretty rum affair all round. Look at that cover for a start! If today's pop stars came out with something like that, it would have parents throughout the land tutting at their offspring — until young Stanley points out the gatefold copy of Diamond Dogs in Dad's dusty man-cave. Wikipedia would have us believe that the music is a mix of Rolling Stones and glam rock, which sounds about as appetising as a mix of rough whisky and Angel Delight.

I'm not sure if the vinyl copy might sound better than this re-mastered version. You never know with re-mastering these days: sometimes they make it better; sometimes they just turn everything up and make a mess with no space to breathe. To my ears the title track sounds all pasty-faced. It gets better as the album goes on: I quite like We are the Dead, but it's no Quicksand. Hard to believe that this was arranged and produced by the same people who did the wonderful Hunky Dory a few years earlier and would do the wonderful, in a different way, Low a few years later.