January 2025 marks a double anniversary for many: the ninth year of the Line Noise podcast and the ninth year since the passing of the iconic David Bowie. For some, like myself, these two milestones are intertwined. It’s fitting then, to revisit David Bowie’s fascinating and often unconventional relationship with dance music, a connection that is both expansive and, at times, wonderfully strange. You can even hear early discussions on Bowie’s profound influence on electronic music in the very first episode of Line Noise, featuring Philip Sherburne.
To truly understand Bowie’s impact, we need to delve into his history with dance music, which reveals a story far more intricate than simply the global phenomenon of “Let’s Dance.”
Image alt text: A vibrant illustration captures the energy of traditional Spanish dance, showcasing two figures in motion, embodying the spirit of rhythm and cultural expression.
In January 2016, as the world mourned Bowie’s departure, UK dance music authority Mixmag compiled a list titled “nine incredible dance remixes of David Bowie’s work.” The unusual choice of nine, instead of a neat top ten or five, felt strangely appropriate. It mirrored the very nature of Bowie’s influence on dance and electronic music – immense yet elusive, profoundly felt but difficult to precisely categorize.
To unpack this paradox, consider Bowie’s groundbreaking Berlin Trilogy in the 1970s. These albums were not dance records in the conventional sense of “Let’s Dance,” but they were seminal in shaping the landscape of electronic music. They popularized the burgeoning synthesizer sounds pioneered by Kraftwerk and Neu!, introducing a new sonic palette to mainstream audiences. Tracks like “Warszawa,” co-written with Brian Eno on Low, are masterpieces of electronic atmospherics. They unveiled the ethereal elegance and boundless potential of electronic music to a wider world. “V2 Schneider” from Heroes stands as an explicit homage to Kraftwerk co-founder Florian Schneider, solidifying Bowie’s connection to the electronic pioneers.
Bowie’s influence rippled through club culture too. The New Romantics and Blitz Kids of early 1980s England, known for their flamboyant style and embrace of synthesizers, drew heavily from Bowie’s androgynous image and otherworldly musical explorations. Yet, paradoxically, a DJ aiming to pay tribute to Bowie on the anniversary of his death might find it challenging to select a definitively “Bowie dance track.” And a dance magazine tasked with listing his ten best remixes might indeed find themselves settling for just nine, highlighting the nuanced nature of his dance music legacy beyond hits like “Let’s Dance.”
Bowie’s electronic explorations didn’t conclude with 1979’s Lodger, the final installment of the Berlin Trilogy. While Brian Eno wasn’t involved in 1980’s Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps), guitarist Chuck Hammer infused the album with guitar synth, notably on the iconic single “Ashes to Ashes.” A year later, Bowie collaborated with electronic music pioneer Giorgio Moroder to create the gothic-infused electronic soundscape of “Cat People (Putting Out Fire).”
However, the subsequent decade saw a noticeable shift away from electronic experimentation in Bowie’s work. He leaned into commercial appeal with albums like Let’s Dance, Tonight, and Never Let Me Down, before embracing a more conventional hard rock sound with Tin Machine. Electronics weren’t entirely absent from this commercially successful phase – Bowie himself played synth on Never Let Me Down – but their use became more commonplace, integrated in a way that mirrored typical 80s rock production. This was a far cry from the crystalline synth experimentations of Low. The global hit “Let’s Dance,” while undeniably danceable, represented a different facet of Bowie’s artistry than his earlier, more avant-garde electronic explorations.
Black Tie White Noise, Bowie’s eighteenth studio album released in 1993, marked a significant return of dance music sensibilities to his oeuvre after the rock-oriented detour of Tin Machine. This album overtly acknowledged and embraced the burgeoning dance culture that was sweeping through his native England.
Bowie himself revealed in a 1993 interview with The Boston Globe that he and producer Nile Rodgers were deeply inspired by house music during the album’s creation. “We both basically missed the same element, with what was happening with the new R&B, which is now hip-hop and house, and what we were missing was the strong melodic content that was apparent in the ‘60s,” he explained. “I wanted to see if we could establish a new kind of melodic form of house.”
“Jump They Say,” the album’s lead single, which reached the UK top ten, was built upon Rodgers’ distinctive shuffling breakbeat. Leftfield’s progressive house remix of the same track became a significant club hit across Europe, demonstrating Bowie’s renewed engagement with contemporary dance sounds, moving beyond the straightforward pop-dance of “Let’s Dance”. However, the true electronic gem on the album was “Pallas Athena,” a five-minute excursion into moody, tech-tinged house, complete with haunting strings and Bowie’s own distorted saxophone. Meat Beat Manifesto’s Jack Dangers remixed the track, with these mixes reportedly circulated anonymously to US club DJs, further embedding Bowie within the underground dance scene.
“Pallas Athena” also foreshadowed Bowie’s most recognized embrace of experimental electronic music since the 1970s: his drum & bass phase in the late 1990s. This era is primarily defined by the 1997 album Earthling, a record conceived and executed in a mere two and a half weeks by Bowie and guitarist Reeves Gabrels. Influenced by the raw energy of The Prodigy, the atmospheric soundscapes of Underworld, the industrial grit of US music, and the frenetic rhythms of drum & bass, Earthling was a bold move for an artist already deep into his fourth decade of recording. While courageous, its reception was somewhat divided.
On Earthling, Bowie integrated drum & bass elements into his distinctive pop framework, much like his earlier assimilation of Eno’s synthesizers. He incorporated the iconic Amen break into tracks like “Little Wonder.” However, this fusion felt somewhat uneasy, straddling two worlds without fully inhabiting either. It was perceived as too pop-oriented for dedicated drum & bass fans and too unconventional for his mainstream pop audience, a different outcome from the broad appeal of “Let’s Dance”.
Despite the mixed reception, Bowie’s commitment to the drum & bass sound was undeniable. At the 1997 Phoenix Festival, Bowie and his band delivered a drum & bass-infused set in the Radio 1 Dance tent under the moniker Tao Jones Index. Furthermore, remixes from the Earthling period, such as A Guy Called Gerald’s and Adam F’s reinterpretations of “Telling Lies,” were genuinely innovative. Photek’s V5 mix of “I’m Afraid of Americans” stands out as particularly exceptional, prompting one to imagine the heights Bowie could have reached had he directly collaborated with drum & bass producers on Earthling instead of self-fashioning the sound. “Pallas Athena” was also reimagined in a drum & bass style during the Earthling tour, with a live version released on limited 12” vinyl under the Tao Jones Index name, continuing his exploration beyond the more mainstream dance sound of “Let’s Dance”.
Subsequent albums saw Bowie temper the overt drum & bass influence, but he remained receptive to electronic music’s potential, evident in Hours, Heathen (whose bonus disc featured remixes from Air and Moby), and Reality.
Then, silence. Bowie entered a hiatus that many assumed might be permanent. His unexpected return in January 2013 with the surprise release of “Where Are We Now,” followed by the album The Next Day two months later, marked a stunning comeback. While both the single and album leaned into a classic rock sound, evoking nostalgia, Bowie once again engaged with electronic music by enlisting James Murphy to remix “Love Is Lost,” which became the fifth single from The Next Day.
Murphy returned to collaborate on Blackstar, an album reportedly influenced by the enigmatic electronic duo Boards of Canada. He contributed percussion to “Sue (Or in a Season of Crime)” and “Girl Loves Me.” Blackstar, released just days before Bowie’s death, saw him embrace jazz, garnering widespread critical acclaim. Yet, the album’s closing track, “I Can’t Give Everything Away,” arguably stands as Bowie’s most compelling foray into electronic music since the 1990s. Its unconventional drum machine rhythms and airy synth stabs perfectly frame a profoundly moving vocal performance, a poignant electronic farewell that resonates beyond the dance floor appeal of “Let’s Dance”.
Bowie’s influence on music in its totality is undeniable, and he was undoubtedly a pioneer in electronic music. However, his artistic identity was so uniquely multifaceted that pinpointing the precise intersection with dance music can be challenging. Black Tie White Noise wasn’t strictly a house music album, and Earthling wasn’t definitively drum & bass. James Murphy didn’t replicate his signature LCD Soundsystem style on Blackstar, and Boards of Canada’s influence on Bowie’s final album was more thematic than textural.
Bowie wasn’t solely an electronic music artist, just as he couldn’t be confined to any single genre. One of his most remarkable qualities was his ability to defy simplistic labels. Nevertheless, Bowie undeniably made significant contributions to the evolution of electronic music, from its nascent stages in the 70s to its commercial explosion in the early 90s and the genre fragmentation of the mid-to-late 90s.
For a fitting tribute to electronic Bowie, “I Can’t Give Everything Away,” the final track on his final album, is a strong contender. However, another compelling choice would be Aphex Twin’s 1997 remix of “Heroes”.
This remix, technically not even of Bowie’s original but of Philip Glass’ orchestral rendition of “Heroes” (created for a CD accompanying the Japanese release of Glass’s “Heroes” Symphony and later reissued on Aphex Twin’s 26 Mixes for Cash), is a masterstroke. Aphex Twin incorporated fragments of Bowie’s original vocal, crafting a deeply moving and subtly unsettling reinterpretation of one of Bowie’s most beloved songs. In doing so, he inadvertently created a perfect homage to one of popular music’s most brilliantly unpredictable and perpetually innovative artists, an artist whose journey through dance music extended far beyond the invitation to “Let’s Dance.”
Some Listening
Darkside manages to blend elements I typically avoid: Americana, jamming, and the Grateful Dead. Yet, I find myself captivated. “S.N.C.” from their album Nothing exemplifies their “Kosmiche Americana” fusion. Its meandering guitar gives way to a wonderfully dirty clavinet boogie around the one-minute mark, reminiscent of Stevie Wonder in space, before receding. Shortly after, a fantastic country soul vocal hook emerges, the clavinet returns to elevate it, and a four-on-the-floor kick drum guides the listener home. It’s a wonderfully strange yet utterly irresistible concoction. But please, Darkside, resist the urge to become Phish. That’s a line I can’t cross.
The Sindecut & Ijeoma – Keeping Me Up
Speaking of bizarre yet brilliant blends, the new release from UK hip hop pioneer The Sindecut and vocalist Ijeoma defies categorization. It seamlessly merges a reggae vibe with a four-to-the-floor house beat, hip hop production techniques, and a lengthy, wailing guitar solo that dominates the nearly nine-minute original mix. Ijeoma’s vocals are exquisite, the production is razor-sharp, and the guitar solo… well, it’s certainly extensive. This is exceptional work from The Sindecut, especially considering it arrives some 25 years after their debut album.
Confession time: Ethel Cain’s debut album Preacher’s Daughter largely escaped my notice. The US artist only truly registered when I realized the palpable excitement surrounding her Primavera 2024 appearance. From what I gather, her new album Perverts represents a significant departure, plunging the Southern Gothic indie rock of her debut into a frigid industrial ambiance. Whispers of “album of the year” are already circulating for Perverts, and while I might not echo that sentiment just yet, it’s thrilling to witness an artist pushing their boundaries. “Amber Waves” is a powerful example of the album’s chilling intensity, stretching out for eleven and a half minutes like a skeletal figure in repose. It evokes a sense of “mortuary soul,” making these cold January days feel strangely beautiful.
Things I’ve done
Anyone familiar with me knows my deep affection for Ringo Starr. Therefore, reviewing his new album for Pitchfork was a genuine pleasure. And honestly – truly honestly – it’s quite remarkable. “The former Beatle has the doleful vocal charm to sound at home in country music, the shrewdness to pick the right collaborators, and the sense to – well – act naturally among them. Craggy, wounded, and oddly philosophical, Look Up makes a timely case for Starr as one of the UK’s most convincing country singers, his gritty Liverpool blues stretching right back across the Atlantic.”
The playlists
Despite a slow start to the year due to the flu, I’ve managed to add exactly ten (at the time of writing) tracks to my best of 2025 playlist. If that’s not sufficient, you can always explore the 1,943 songs on the comprehensive mother playlist, the newest and the bestest.
