‘Diamond Dogs’ Half-Speed Plagued By Questionable EQ
David Bowie’s 1974 LP gets mixed bag 50th anniversary reissue
David Bowie’s self-produced 1974 album Diamond Dogs is undoubtedly the worst of his run from Hunky Dory through Scary Monsters (Pin Ups doesn’t count). As a messy exit from his glam period, it compiles ambitious ideas with less than ideal execution, yet in a sense, it still seems unfairly maligned.
Everyone knows the story by now: Bowie, on stage at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1973, “killed” Ziggy Stardust and thus freed himself for whatever came next. Ready for even grander theatricality, he explored several ideas including a Ziggy Stardust musical and a (made for TV?) production of George Orwell’s 1984; of course, the Ziggy musical never happened and he couldn’t get the adaptation rights to 1984, so the resulting slew of ideas became his next proper album, Diamond Dogs. Without a new, stable backing band, Bowie played the guitars himself but recruited Mike Garson (piano), Herbie Flowers (bass), and drummers Tony Newman and Aynsley Dunbar. The former three would end up on the Diamond Dogs Tour, which after July 1974 morphed into the Philly Dogs tour on which only Garson remained. 1974 quickly became a very confusing year in Bowie’s career, but first comes the Diamond Dogs record itself—part glam rock, part apocalyptic concept album, unquestionably half-baked but rewarding.
Diamond Dogs’ main problem is that, despite its conceptual aura, it doesn’t really commit to anything specific. Side one establishes an apocalyptic sci-fi setting in the somewhat indulgent Stones-esque title track, logically continues with the melodramatic eight-minute “Sweet Thing” suite (one of Bowie’s best-arranged works), then disrupts it with Ziggy musical leftover “Rebel Rebel.” Side two gets into the 1984 scraps, but not before the decent but unremarkable ballad “Rock ’n’ Roll With Me.” The closing 1984 suite has its moments but never fully gels together; “We Are The Dead” drags on too long, “Chant Of The Ever Circling Skeletal Family” is an inconclusive ending, and the live versions of “1984” and “Big Brother” are much more realized than the studio recordings.
Really, Diamond Dogs made most sense in Bowie’s 1974 live sets, documented so far on David Live (or as he called it, David Bowie Is Alive And Well And Living Only In Theory), Cracked Actor, and I’m Only Dancing. The former, recorded during his July 1974 Philadelphia residency, captures the tour as originally envisioned: more conventional rock-focused arrangements played with theatrical grandeur on a big stage set (no official video release to see it, but the 2005 mix is the best listening experience). After the July shows, Bowie stayed in Philly to record the tentatively named The Gouster at Sigma Sound; at New York’s Record Plant in January 1975, The Gouster became his soul hit Young Americans.
Already committed to his new sound, Bowie revamped the Diamond Dogs Tour for its second leg, where it became the Philly Dogs Tour. The new lineup included more Sigma session musicians, including rhythm guitarist Carlos Alomar (who stayed with Bowie through Scary Monsters) and backing singers Ava Cherry (Bowie’s mistress) and a still-unknown Luther Vandross. The posthumously released Cracked Actor, featuring the September 5 Los Angeles show, captures the tour’s musical midpoint while I’m Only Dancing, recorded primarily in October, is the full-on Soul Tour. Throughout it all, Bowie’s coke addiction became more prominent, and his voice got noticeably raspier especially in October and November. Still, his performances were endlessly charismatic and the touring band one of his tightest ever. (Weirdly enough, David Live is actually the worst of the three 1974 live albums, as it fails to sell him as anything beyond a “competent” performer.)
Anyway, back to Diamond Dogs, which is easily Bowie’s worst sounding analog recording: bass-shy, sort of veiled, and stuffy. Despite yet another opportunity to alleviate these issues, the new 50th anniversary half-speed edition cut by John Webber only creates more problems. Like the other recent Bowie half-speeds, it was cut on a modified Neumann VMS80 from “192kHz restored masters,” presumably originating from the “archive” flat transfer made for the last reissue series. I also have a UK original (“1oly” matrix on side one, Kevin Metcalfe cut on side two) and the 2016 Who Can I Be Now? box set reissue mastered by Ray Staff; none of them are great, but the new half-speed is by far the most annoying.
Both the 2016 remaster and the 50th anniversary have essentially no high frequency information. I assume it’s a tape issue, as Bowie’s master tapes have been notoriously mishandled. Yet each reissue addresses it differently: Staff chose a somewhat “balanced” presentation with a thicker lower midrange, while Webber massively boosted the bass and went for a more lively upper midrange. While the half-speed thankfully doesn’t have the 2016’s super plasticky transients, the bass boost (with any deep bass rolled off) makes the 50th anniversary pressing sound artificially blown up and sluggish. It’s amateurish, like a little kid playing around with a graphic equalizer on a boombox. I can’t really recommend either of the recent reissues.
That said, I must admire how Parlophone and the Bowie estate keep reissuing the same records with different, equally crappy sonic profiles each time. Maybe they’re planning a better 60th anniversary series next, but at this point I think they’re just that clueless about sound quality. None of the recent Bowie product has sounded good, merely serviceable at best. (The Brilliant Adventures [1992-2001] box set got away with it because of that era’s rapid technological changes and thus inconsistent sound quality. But for 70s Bowie? C’mon, do better.) The reissue team needs a consultant who actually knows what these records originally sounded like, who doesn’t indulge in revisionism, and who still has functioning ears. It doesn’t look like they’ve had anyone who checks all three criteria. Both original UK cuts of Diamond Dogs sound energetic, while the reissues sound desperate at best.
(The half-speed packaging is the same direct-to-board gatefold jacket as the last reissue, with the uncensored cover and one of those fake obi strips. The 180g Optimal pressing comes in a poly-lined inner sleeve and plays quiet… even if I’d prefer my battered UK original any day of the week. Priced at around $25; you get what you pay for, I guess.)
