Young Americans (1975)

The change was apparent right from the top. That opening drum fill slides into the room with a flourish and soft-shoes down your ear canal; you can practically feel the DJ put needle to groove while a dancehall springs to life around you. “Young Americans” the song was an instant classic, a timeless single that, on the album, doubled as an opening salvo and a statement of reconfigured intent. Young Americans the album was a stylistic about-face, the most dramatic yet from a career already built on reinvention. Gone was the glam, in its place a smooth and sophisticated take on soul. Recorded during a month-long break from the elaborately staged Diamond Dogs Tour, Bowie set up camp at Sigma Studios in Philadelphia and abruptly changed the course of his career. Local soul and funk musicians were tapped to authenticate the proceedings (including a young Luther Vandross), and after months on the road, Bowie’s live band — like the Spiders of Mars before them — had solidified into a crack team of players, powerful and precise at once. Again working with Tony Visconti, the bulk of the album was tracked live — including the vocals. After the occasionally labored back half of Diamond Dogs, Young Americans felt effortlessly cool. Describing the record in an interview, Bowie called it “the squashed remains of ethnic music as it survives in the age of Muzak rock, written and sung by a white limey.” Success continued to mount behind Bowie, particularly in the States where the malicious funk of “Fame” (co-written with John Lennon and Carlos Alomar) became a number-one hit. Parts of the album drift, but as usual for Bowie, the highs are untouchable.