After the death of Ziggy and the last rites of Bowie’s sojourn to the States vomiting up the Philadelphia Sound, 1976 saw him rediscovering Europe and the fascistic image of The Thin White Duke, as an eerie precursor for what became known as his Berlin song cycle, spawning Low, Heroes and Lodger over the following three years. For all that the sound and the image was relentlessly European, Bowie had built an All American collection of musicians around him in Carlos Alomar, Earl Slick (both guitar), Bruce Springsteen pianist Roy Bittan and the wonderful bass-drums axis of George Murray and Dennis Davis.

That said, however, Stationtostation is a breathtaking album, a departure from the standard guitar rock which had characterised much of his early albums. This was harsh and strident electronica, ethereal and enchanting and challenging. Apparently, Bowie was addicted to cocaine throughout this period of his life and certainly came through a strange time in his offstage life. It was odd that the darlings of the new wave did not slag him off in the same way they had many of the other establishment icons, but Bowie had always been sheer coolness and distant enough from the norm not to be absorbed by it. He was other worldly and aloof and very, very different.

It builds gracefully and with patience from a slow, quiet opener into a genuine storm of a song, enormous in its range and power. It is one of the finest songs that Bowie has ever recorded, and represented a breathtaking departure from the classic three minute pop singles that he had so effortlessly shaped in earlier years. Now he was working for the epic, the sweeping, the majestic, while still retaining his former fascination for form, sometimes at the expense of substance. He pulled off that particular trick with the album opener and then some. Genuinely Stationtostation is a classic song which must be in every true rock fan’s collection. It merits the overused word awesome for its overwhelming power and grace. Telling the tale of the Thin White Duke, the public were quick to try and cite this character as the latest in the Ziggy and Aladdin Sane line, but now Bowie had moved beyond living behind a bunch of stage characters. He was now ready to emerge in his own right, shaking the disguise as a totem to be readily discarded when they had outlived their usefulness. Ziggy was now an out of date fool and Aladdin Sane had never really existed. The Duke was unsympathetic and hollow, but the media found it easier to continue to paint Bowie as a master of disguise and intrigue. He must have been laughing up his sleeve at them, although his drugs infatuation became quite dangerous for a time, so it is difficult to understand the truth of matters. Whatever the reality, David Bowie could certainly write a wonderful song and Stationtostation was truly immense.

After that heavenly opening, Bowie offered the thumping disco beat of Golden Years, retaining the Philly backing vocals and disco feel which he had used to such strong effect when he made Young Americans. Next to the massive wallop of Fame, which Bowie wrote with John Lennon and Carlos Alomar, this is one of the hugest dance numbers he ever created, characterised by its gorgeous vocal lines and backing, truly engaging. Bowie has always had the happy knack of being able to roam seemingly at will through whatever musical genre he chose, and he demonstrated with Golden Years his undoubted gift for dance music.