David Bowie – Self-Titled (1967) Vinyl Reissue Review

An oddity in his catalogue, David Bowie’s 1967 self-titled debut stands apart from what was to follow and, while it gained acclaim upon release, it subsequently came to be perceived as one of the weaker records in his canon. However, when you consider the body of work to which it is compared, that is hardly the condemnation that it first appears, and it remains an important artefact, not least because it served to introduce the world to a unique talent – even if the world was scarcely ready in 1967.  Indeed, it would take another three years (and another self-titled album), before Bowie would fully arrive and, by that point, the musical chameleon had already severed links with this earlier effort. 

However, as writer Nicholas Pegg cogently argues in his excellent liner notes, time has been kinder to this strange outlier in Bowie’s catalogue than its creator ever was, and listening now, it’s remarkable to consider the influence this record had, especially on the likes of Blur (who drew upon it considerably for Parklife), The Divine Comedy, and even Suede. Even at the distance of nearly sixty years, it’s hard not to be charmed by the sheer scale of Bowie’s nascent ambition while the production, for a release of this vintage, is simply stunning. There’s a clarity to the mixes here that, for all the instrumentation that Bowie threw at the songs, is consistently impressive across the album. That’s not to say that David Bowie is without its flaws but, for every whimsical number, there’s something richer or darker waiting in the wings, and there are myriad hints as to Bowie’s future just waiting to be eked out by the patient listener. 

The Package 

Released as a double disc digipack CD or double disc gatefold vinyl. David Bowie returns to charm a whole new generation with a solid selection of extras. The CD edition comes in a tri-fold digipack, compete with 12-page booklet and liner notes. The gatefold vinyl edition is a little more complicated, as the version you get determines the track-listing. The D2C version (cream & green swirl) features Space Oddity (Love You Till Tuesday); the indie store version (cloudy green) features The Laughing Gnome (Vocal Take 1 / Mix 1) and the standard version (green vinyl) features Sell Me A Coat (Remix / Mono). All three of these tracks are included on the CD edition. 

How you view the extras is largely dependent upon the format you’re after. While a key selling point for the vinyl is that it features the additional tracks for the first time, the CD follows in the footsteps of an almost ludicrously packed deluxe edition released in 2010 and there are considerable omissions. 

The most obvious change is that this new version sees only the fourteen-track stereo mix of the album appear on the first disc (the 2010 edition featured both stereo and mono versions back-to-back). The second disc, meanwhile, is reduced from 25 tracks to sixteen, omitting a number of pieces, including five BBC sessions (presumably due to rights issues). As the CD uses an identical 2009 stereo mix (courtesy of Peter Mew and Tris Penna), there is nothing for fans who already own the 2010 edition. However, with the vinyl boasting a pristine 2024 Abbey Road master (Alex Gordon) and with the extra tracks making their vinyl debut, the LP is sure to tempt even the familiar – especially given the gorgeous, coloured vinyl on offer. 

The Album

I’ll be honest, it is rare that I revisit David Bowie’s debut offering. However, as someone who has always been fascinated by the evolution of the artist, it retains an important place in my collection, and there is a charm to it, even if it only hints at where David would head next.

It opens with the handclaps and gentle R&B of Uncle Arthur, a slight tale that still manages to raise a smile thanks to its simple naivety. It’s followed by Sell Me A Coat, a track from which Britpop artists were still drawing some three decades later. It sounds amazing, highlighting the fact that while Bowie’s songwriting was embryonic, his sonic ambitions were fully fledged, especially in the way the reverb swells across the vocal at the track’s conclusion. Speaking of ambition, the Baroque introduction to Rubber Band showcases a musical sensibility that few would have dared engage on their debut, while the track as a whole introduces us to Bowie’s unique vocal tones, even if his phrasing is almost comically English here. The rippling R&B returns on Love You Till Tuesday, another track that sees Bowie exploring the range of his delivery, providing an early insight into the theatricality with which he would make his name. 

The airy There Is A Happy Land is another song that the likes of Blur would cheerfully pastiche years down the line and, while few artists would make music as cheerfully childlike as this, you find yourself once again marvelling at a production that has hardly dated. A sense of Monty Python hangs over the hysterical introduction to We Are Hungry Men, a satirical piece that nods to the harder edge Bowie would explore so effectively on The Man Who Sold The World, for all that the gleaming brass seeks to mitigate it. Moreover, with lyrics such as “I prepare the document, legalising mass abortion, we will turn a blind eye to infanticide” recalling Swift’s Modest Proposal, there’s an underlying darkness that arrests the listener, only for the dreamy When I Live My Dream to wash away any such fears in a swirl of cinematic strings and a surprisingly gentle vocal delivery. 

It’s back to music hall for side two opener Little Bombardier, which is far lighter in tone than Silly Boy Blue – a slow-paced piece that appears to have provided David Lynch with the bass sound for his Twin Peaks soundtrack. The whimsy returns on Come And Buy My Toys – one of the few tracks at which Bowie’s charge of “juvenilia” could reasonably be levied. it is, nonetheless, a pleasant little ditty that pales in comparison to the ramshackle rock ‘n’ roll of Join The Gang, a track that points far more clearly to where Bowie was headed just a few years hence. Also fun is She’s Got Medals, which has hints of Sgt Pepper – an album released the same year. It’s followed by the short (sub-two-minute) Maids Of Bond Street – a sweeping number that feels like its drawn from a musical, as does Please Mr. Gravedigger which, with its storm effects and acapella vocal, evokes an image of David sat alone, singing to himself as the curtain sinks down upon a forlorn scene. 

A genuinely underrated album in Bowie’s canon, it may have been dismissed by its creator, but there is much to admire here and much of the latter-day opprobrium it has experienced is more to do with the sheer mastery of what was to follow than any failing in either performance or execution. While it may lean a little too heavily on music hall, there are moments where, especially with the benefit of hindsight, you can feel Bowie striving for something greater – not least on We Are Hungry Men, Join The Gang, and Rubber Band. An ambitious and beguiling album, David Bowie is a surprisingly warm and quirky listen, that looks and sounds fantastic in this cloudy green vinyl edition.  

The Extras

With slightly different track listings, the CD offers up 16 bonus tracks, while the vinyl edition is limited to fourteen, with each of the three coloured versions offering a different final track.  Our review copy concludes with The Laughing Gnome (Vocal Take 1 / Mix 1). 

The first nine tracks of this new edition follow the 2010 deluxe edition (although this is the first time these tracks have been made available on vinyl), offering up a grab bag of single versions, many of which were remixed back in 2010. It starts with Rubber Band (Single Version, Mono), the mono mix pushing the vocal forward in a way that recalls the stylistic decisions taken during the Berlin Trilogy. The London Boys (Mono), meanwhile, really helps the shimmering organ of Derek Boyes to shine, although the bass is lost as a result. 

Arguably one of the most divisive tracks from Bowie’s early period, the novelty single The Laughing Gnome (Single Version, 2010 Stereo mix) is really rather irritating, especially with its sped-up vocals, and it’s best skipped. It creates a neat contrast with The Gospel According To Tony Day (Single Version, 2010 Stereo Mix), which could slot neatly on to the arty Reality. Losing some 10 seconds, the single mix of Love You Till Tuesday feels slightly brighter and tighter than its album counterpart, while Did You Ever Have A Dream (Single Version, 2010 Stereo Mix) approximates the sounds Daman Albarn hears in his dreams. The first side wraps up with an extended version of the lovely When I Live My Dream (Single Version, Mono), the mono mix really suiting a song that relies so heavily on Bowie’s vocal. 

Opening side two, Let Me Sleep Beside You (Stereo Mix) has a strong Barrett-era Pink Floyd vibe, especially in the backing vocals, while Karma Man (Stereo Mix) nods towards the melody of Space Oddity, again highlighting the fact that Bowie was already outgrowing the youthful impulses that dominate the parent album. 

Having followed the 2010 edition to this point, the LP digresses to include a stereo mix of In The Heat Of The Morning (as opposed to the previously unreleased mono mix included on the deluxe set). It’s a little too bright, although the bass floats neatly through the mix, while Bowie sounds more like his future self here than at any other point. A bouncy track, London By Ta-Ta (Mono) has a decent melody that is almost (but not quite) derailed by novelty sound effects, only for When I’m Five (Love You Till Tuesday Soundtrack version, Mono) to rather bizarrely cross-pollinate a child’s rhyme with the sound of Velvet Underground and too-loud strings. Elements of Velvet Underground also feature in the ramshackle pop of Ching-A-Ling (Full-Length Version, Stereo Mix), the barely coherent guitar giving it an edge that would have been lost had it been played more cleanly. With handclaps and a chorus that takes the title and doubles down, as if repetition might somehow make it less twee, it’s another example of the early Bowie trying to be all things to all people, and yet there’s a charm to it, no matter how hard you try to resist. The final track of the disc, exclusive to the cloudy green waxedition, is The Laughing Gnome (Vocal Take One, Mix One, Mono). This version was not on the 2010 set, making it a unique addition to the package, although the extent to which anyone might want another version of this particular track is eminently debatable. 

CD Edition / Vinyl Variants 

Missing from our vinyl (albeit present on the CD edition), are two further tracks. Sell Me A Coat (Remix, Mono) can be found on the standard, green vinyl edition. This track was also on the 2010 set and adds little to the stereo version found on the album. Last, but not least, the cream and green swirl D2C edition boasts Space Oddity (Love You Till Tuesday Full-Length Version, Mono). It captures an artist in transition, Bowie feeling his way to one of his most well-known songs via a trippy, psychedelic mix that is surprisingly fully-fledged, for all the opening bars are lost in a fug of patchouli-scented percussion. 

Conclusion 

The value of this excellent set depends both upon the version you choose and the versions you already have in your possession. If you opt for vinyl, the new master sounds simply amazing, and having the bonus tracks on the second disc is also a treat that will certainly appeal to collectors. Whether it will appeal to collectors enough to pick up all three variants is rather more of a question, given that there’s only one track different between each, but if you’re opting for just one, then the D2C with the excellent Space Oddity is the pick of the bunch. 

The CD edition is a little more questionable. For those who own the 2010 edition, there’s really nothing to tempt you back – it’s the same mix and master and it boasts far fewer tracks. However, for those who missed out, and with that edition increasingly difficult to find (especially new), this is a decent set at a decent price. 

Overall, the CD is fine, but lacking compared to what went before. The vinyl, however, is  an absolute treat and, with the inclusion of an entire disc of bonus tracks, whether you own a copy in this format or not, it’s well worth checking out.

Vinyl edition: 9/10

CD Edition: 6.5/10 

The Missing Tracks

The 2010 deluxe edition was absolutely packed with content. The first disc added the fourteen-track album in mono form. Below, you’ll find a breakdown of the second disc differences.