After performing his second-to-last selection, "White Light/White Heat," a tune by Lou Reed, the songwriter who most influenced Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie's enduring and indelible persona, Bowie dropped this little nugget on his fans (and bandmates): "Not only is it the last show of the tour, but it's the last show that we'll ever do. Thank you." He then went into a magnificent version of "Rock & Roll Suicide," a song that gives a glimpse of where Bowie could have gone, not to suicide, but to the style of rock & roll that a long-term band can provide. Had Bowie kept the Spiders from Mars together, unique flashes like the version of "Let's Spend the Night Together" or the striking "All the Young Dudes" would have continued, a tight little rock & roll band providing a balance that dissipated when the artist branched out on his own. The other unnerving thing about this double-LP soundtrack of a concert taped in 1973 and finally released in 1982 is that there are bootlegs which have more to offer sonically. The thin recording is shameful: don't expect Pink Floyd's Delicate Sound of Thunder or even the Rolling Stones' wonderfully sludgy "Get Your Ya Ya's Out." The remix of this only official live album from the Ziggy Stardust shows is dreadful. Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture doesn't have the electric excitement of the Live in Santa Monica '72 boot, and that's the fault of the remix by Mike Moran, Bruce Tergeson, Tony Visconti, and Bowie. Another bootleg, David Bowie with the Spiders from Mars, London, July 3, 1973, is the exact same Ziggy performance, but it comes across better, much better. According to Pimm Jal de la Parra's book David Bowie: The Concert Tapes, the bootleg was issued from the ABC TV 1974 broadcast. The bootleg also has "Jean Genie and "Love Me Do," which feature Jeff Beck on guitar, Beck's performances being absent from the official RCA soundtrack release. The shame of it all is that this double disc was released after David Live and Stage, and while the upside is it makes for a rare, three double-live sets from one performer, the downside is that the best of those three albums has the worst mix on official record. Also, had RCA released the October 1, 1972 Boston Music Hall show -- which was brilliant, despite Bowie having a cold that night -- or this July 3, 1973 London Hammersmith Odeon program back in the day, it could have had an enormous effect on Bowie's career. At that point in time, the fans wanted more Ziggy, and the timing of this release only shows how important it is to get the material out while it's hot. Just ask Peter Frampton, Bob Seger, and the J. Geils Band, who solidified their audiences with double-live sets at crucial points in their careers. Nonetheless, everything here is essential David Bowie; it is a great performance, and you definitely need it for your Bowie collection. The only thing better would be Lou Reed himself finally releasing the September 1973 first gig of his Rock 'n' Roll Animal Band, which was, as they say, the real thing.© Joe Viglione /TiVo

Ziggy Stardust wrote the blueprint for David Bowie's hard-rocking glam, and Aladdin Sane essentially follows the pattern, for both better and worse. A lighter affair than Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane is actually a stranger album than its predecessor, buoyed by bizarre lounge-jazz flourishes from pianist Mick Garson and a handful of winding, vaguely experimental songs. Bowie abandons his futuristic obsessions to concentrate on the detached cool of New York and London hipsters, as on the compressed rockers "Watch That Man," "Cracked Actor," and "The Jean Genie." Bowie follows the hard stuff with the jazzy, dissonant sprawls of "Lady Grinning Soul," "Aladdin Sane," and "Time," all of which manage to be both campy and avant-garde simultaneously, while the sweepingly cinematic "Drive-In Saturday" is a soaring fusion of sci-fi doo wop and melodramatic teenage glam. He lets his paranoia slip through in the clenched rhythms of "Panic in Detroit," as well as on his oddly clueless cover of "Let's Spend the Night Together." For all the pleasures on Aladdin Sane, there's no distinctive sound or theme to make the album cohesive; it's Bowie riding the wake of Ziggy Stardust, which means there's a wealth of classic material here, but not enough focus to make the album itself a classic.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

First released on Record Store Day 2017, Cracked Actor has now had its official launch. Recorded in LA in September 1974, this live recording of the Philly Dogs tour includes many of the songs played on Alan Yentob's 1975 BBC documentary, Cracked Actor. The group accompanying the Thin White Duke (with one Luther Vandross on vocals!) is different from the one we see on  David Live, the official live recording released in October 1974. On  Cracked Actor, Carlos Alomar and Earl Slick take care of the guitars. Gregg Erico, who had escaped from Sly Stone's Family is on the drums, and David Sanborn is playing funky madness on the saxophone... Between the glam of the hirsute guitarists and the cold of the Berlin New Wave he concocted with Brian Eno, in the mid-70s, Bowie offered up an improbable and pleasant soul interlude. An enchanting and funky departure, which, thanks to the Slick/Alomar double-act, took on an even madder dimension on stage. © MZ/Qobuz

Ziggy Stardust wrote the blueprint for David Bowie's hard-rocking glam, and Aladdin Sane essentially follows the pattern, for both better and worse. A lighter affair than Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane is actually a stranger album than its predecessor, buoyed by bizarre lounge-jazz flourishes from pianist Mick Garson and a handful of winding, vaguely experimental songs. Bowie abandons his futuristic obsessions to concentrate on the detached cool of New York and London hipsters, as on the compressed rockers "Watch That Man," "Cracked Actor," and "The Jean Genie." Bowie follows the hard stuff with the jazzy, dissonant sprawls of "Lady Grinning Soul," "Aladdin Sane," and "Time," all of which manage to be both campy and avant-garde simultaneously, while the sweepingly cinematic "Drive-In Saturday" is a soaring fusion of sci-fi doo wop and melodramatic teenage glam. He lets his paranoia slip through in the clenched rhythms of "Panic in Detroit," as well as on his oddly clueless cover of "Let's Spend the Night Together." For all the pleasures on Aladdin Sane, there's no distinctive sound or theme to make the album cohesive; it's Bowie riding the wake of Ziggy Stardust, which means there's a wealth of classic material here, but not enough focus to make the album itself a classic.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

The soundtrack to Brett Morgen's David Bowie film Moonage Daydream essentially offers the audio component of his movie, a two-hour-and-50-minute tapestry of exclusive edits, remixes, live performances, interview snippets and other oddities. Morgen meant the mix to be blasted at top volume, but even without the power of IMAX speakers -- or visuals, for that matter -- Moonage Daydream manages to convey the feeling of a journey through space, floating with no particular direction but with memorable mile markers. Here, the Buddah of Suburbia instrumental "Ian Fish U.K. Heir" acts as a connective tissue that threads together slightly altered versions of familiar songs and melodies along with unearthed live performances. Occasionally, the particulars are interesting -- Jeff Beck shreds on a live version of "The Jean Genie" where "Love Me Do" pops up during the jam -- but the emphasis is not on the individual tracks, it's on the whole, offering a specific and evocative (if not entirely thorough) portrait of Bowie that's enchanting and beguiling, especially for listeners already well-acquainted with the entirety of his catalog.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

After performing his second-to-last selection, "White Light/White Heat," a tune by Lou Reed, the songwriter who most influenced Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie's enduring and indelible persona, Bowie dropped this little nugget on his fans (and bandmates): "Not only is it the last show of the tour, but it's the last show that we'll ever do. Thank you." He then went into a magnificent version of "Rock & Roll Suicide," a song that gives a glimpse of where Bowie could have gone, not to suicide, but to the style of rock & roll that a long-term band can provide. Had Bowie kept the Spiders from Mars together, unique flashes like the version of "Let's Spend the Night Together" or the striking "All the Young Dudes" would have continued, a tight little rock & roll band providing a balance that dissipated when the artist branched out on his own. The other unnerving thing about this double-LP soundtrack of a concert taped in 1973 and finally released in 1982 is that there are bootlegs which have more to offer sonically. The thin recording is shameful: don't expect Pink Floyd's Delicate Sound of Thunder or even the Rolling Stones' wonderfully sludgy "Get Your Ya Ya's Out." The remix of this only official live album from the Ziggy Stardust shows is dreadful. Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture doesn't have the electric excitement of the Live in Santa Monica '72 boot, and that's the fault of the remix by Mike Moran, Bruce Tergeson, Tony Visconti, and Bowie. Another bootleg, David Bowie with the Spiders from Mars, London, July 3, 1973, is the exact same Ziggy performance, but it comes across better, much better. According to Pimm Jal de la Parra's book David Bowie: The Concert Tapes, the bootleg was issued from the ABC TV 1974 broadcast. The bootleg also has "Jean Genie and "Love Me Do," which feature Jeff Beck on guitar, Beck's performances being absent from the official RCA soundtrack release. The shame of it all is that this double disc was released after David Live and Stage, and while the upside is it makes for a rare, three double-live sets from one performer, the downside is that the best of those three albums has the worst mix on official record. Also, had RCA released the October 1, 1972 Boston Music Hall show -- which was brilliant, despite Bowie having a cold that night -- or this July 3, 1973 London Hammersmith Odeon program back in the day, it could have had an enormous effect on Bowie's career. At that point in time, the fans wanted more Ziggy, and the timing of this release only shows how important it is to get the material out while it's hot. Just ask Peter Frampton, Bob Seger, and the J. Geils Band, who solidified their audiences with double-live sets at crucial points in their careers. Nonetheless, everything here is essential David Bowie; it is a great performance, and you definitely need it for your Bowie collection. The only thing better would be Lou Reed himself finally releasing the September 1973 first gig of his Rock 'n' Roll Animal Band, which was, as they say, the real thing.© Joe Viglione /TiVo

Ziggy Stardust wrote the blueprint for David Bowie's hard-rocking glam, and Aladdin Sane essentially follows the pattern, for both better and worse. A lighter affair than Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane is actually a stranger album than its predecessor, buoyed by bizarre lounge-jazz flourishes from pianist Mick Garson and a handful of winding, vaguely experimental songs. Bowie abandons his futuristic obsessions to concentrate on the detached cool of New York and London hipsters, as on the compressed rockers "Watch That Man," "Cracked Actor," and "The Jean Genie." Bowie follows the hard stuff with the jazzy, dissonant sprawls of "Lady Grinning Soul," "Aladdin Sane," and "Time," all of which manage to be both campy and avant-garde simultaneously, while the sweepingly cinematic "Drive-In Saturday" is a soaring fusion of sci-fi doo wop and melodramatic teenage glam. He lets his paranoia slip through in the clenched rhythms of "Panic in Detroit," as well as on his oddly clueless cover of "Let's Spend the Night Together." For all the pleasures on Aladdin Sane, there's no distinctive sound or theme to make the album cohesive; it's Bowie riding the wake of Ziggy Stardust, which means there's a wealth of classic material here, but not enough focus to make the album itself a classic.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

First released on Record Store Day 2017, Cracked Actor has now had its official launch. Recorded in LA in September 1974, this live recording of the Philly Dogs tour includes many of the songs played on Alan Yentob's 1975 BBC documentary, Cracked Actor. The group accompanying the Thin White Duke (with one Luther Vandross on vocals!) is different from the one we see on  David Live, the official live recording released in October 1974. On  Cracked Actor, Carlos Alomar and Earl Slick take care of the guitars. Gregg Erico, who had escaped from Sly Stone's Family is on the drums, and David Sanborn is playing funky madness on the saxophone... Between the glam of the hirsute guitarists and the cold of the Berlin New Wave he concocted with Brian Eno, in the mid-70s, Bowie offered up an improbable and pleasant soul interlude. An enchanting and funky departure, which, thanks to the Slick/Alomar double-act, took on an even madder dimension on stage. © MZ/Qobuz