Young Americans. Four and a half stars.
With the possible exception of an album of traditional Nigerian folk songs, I'm not sure David Bowie could have found a stranger direction to pool his musical resources in. You've got to admire him for the effort. This guy ain't black, he ain't even from America and yet he undertakes a whole record in Philadelphia Soul style.
In 1975, David was already on the road to Thin White Duke hell, but Young Americans gives indication only of his overwhelming confidence, his love of his own voice and its ability to do seemingly anything. On this record he eschews the lyric in favor of using his voice as an instrument.
The other note is that of the band: keeping Garson on piano, with Carlos Alomar (who'd become a semi-permanent band member), a young Luther Vandross guesting, John Lennon permeating the record... That's just the tip of the iceberg. Sax player is David Sanborn, a well respected session man. Look at the credentials: almost everybody is somebody.
Long and the short of it: the band is hot. On the money. It cooks.
Title track is a five minute epic, best lyric for sure. A sprawling, rapid fire narrative taking in multiple points of view, a string of American cliches, a glory in American cheapness, American culture, and so on. The delivery is awe-inspiringly fast, and if you play the song back to back with Ziggy Stardust, you would hardly believe it's the same guy.
Everything slows down for Win, morose and uplifting. Low register singing, snatches of poetry, band matching him step for step, singers complimenting without overtaking him...perfection.
Fascination is the funkiest track, putting the pace back into high gear. Luther Vandross is included here, and this is a first and last in the Bowie catalogue in as much as the backup singers lead the charge. Lyric hasn't much merit, but it's just an excuse for his voice to leap up and down the scale, sometimes belting it out, sometimes whispering. And it makes for seriously funky party music.
Pacing is great too. Right slows back down to a gorgeous simmer. The melodic hook is excellent, but the middle of the song is devoted to an improvisational give and take exchange. As a song, it's lightweight; as a piece of the album, it's absolutely necessary.
Somebody Up There Likes Me has a lengthy saxophone intro, showing off the band. This one is the real tour de force, the band pushing all the right buttons and David using the more interesting lyric as a vehicle again, shifting for every verse, sometimes every line. How he did this without pausing to gasp for breath, I don't know.
Well, that's the heart and soul of Young Americans. Across the Universe is included next. Its construction doesn't fit, thematically it doesn't fit, and the song is sung furiously, as if he was trying to hammer it into the mike. The vocal workout is in fact its only saving grace.
I have no problem with Can You Hear Me, except that it is totally forgettable. Story is one of those "come back, I'm brokenhearted" pieces. Generally speaking, that's an unusual theme for David Bowie. Vocalisation again the saving grace.
Coda is Fame. Unfortunately, everybody has heard this one to death. First No. 1 hit in America, got Lennon on backups, riff is funky as hell, lyric rips its subject up nicely. First hearing it at fourteen, I felt cool just listening. Sadly, like Zeppelin's Immigrant Song, I promptly played it to death and all I get out of it now is a gentle nostalgia. Alas....
So the last three tracks are distinctly weaker than the rest of it. Also, the lyrics aren't his best, though to be fair, that's not really their point. Want the best offerings in that department, go check out Hunky Dory or Aladdin Sane.
Great stuff most of the time though, and a superb way to kill the glam rock ghost that had pursued him all the way to Diamond Dogs.
Incidentally, Young Americans currently wins my poll for CD collection freak. Owning no soul, funk or disco CDs, there is NOTHING I can partner this CD to. It stands alone.
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