More Thoughts on “The Worst of Bowie”
Last week I posted a list of ten candidates for the distinction of Bowie’s “worst” song. Given the enormous affection and broad appreciation for Bowie that comes across in my daily blog, I find the very idea of contemplating his “worst” inherently funny. I’ve approached this question in different ways before, but last week’s list became the single most viewed post in the seven-year history of this blog. The response was overwhelming—I received so many replies, mostly via social media, that I lost track. If you’re reading this and I didn’t respond, please forgive me.
Most of the feedback was positive. Several commentators offered their own picks for Bowie’s worst or, in some cases, just songs they personally disliked. While I didn’t hide my opinions in the original post, my goal wasn’t to list my ten least-favorite Bowie songs or argue purely from personal preference. Instead, I focused on why certain songs are often considered to be among his worst. For example, while I personally enjoy his “Dancing in the Street” duet with Mick Jagger, critics frequently single it out as especially bad. I even referenced another list that ranked it as Bowie’s very worst. Most importantly, my approach was meant to be lighthearted and rooted in appreciation for Bowie’s vast body of work.
I suspected that simply putting the word “worst” alongside “Bowie” in a title would provoke some negative reactions, and sure enough, it did. A few people claimed there are no bad Bowie songs, which is one thing. That still allows for the idea that some songs are better than others. But others went further, arguing that there is no such thing as the worst Bowie song. That’s a much stronger claim, as it implies that all of his songs have exactly equal value by any measure. Even if someone wanted to argue that all Bowie songs are good, surely they wouldn’t place “The Laughing Gnome” on the same level as “Blackstar.” Yet some responses seemed to suggest exactly that.
Many of these universal defenders of Bowie also seemed to miss the implicit question my piece was raising: what does “worst” actually mean? The first song on my list was the all-but-forgotten 1966 single “Do Anything You Say,” which I argued was plausibly Bowie’s least commercially successful single. If “worst” is measured strictly by sales, this might be it. I acknowledged that data I don’t have could disprove my speculation, but at least sales figures are measurable.
Similarly, I included the 1985 adaptation of “Modern Love” for a Pepsi commercial based on the frequent criticism that Bowie had “sold out” in the 80s. “If ‘selling out’ means anything,” I wrote, “it means this.” I didn’t attempt to write a full treatise on what constitutes “selling out,” but I worked from the common understanding that it refers to compromising artistic integrity for commercial purposes. And what could be more commercial than a commercial?
Other negative feedback focused on the list format itself. Commentators who objected didn’t explain why, but they may have perceived lists as lacking depth, disrupting narrative flow, or resembling clickbait rather than serious analysis. The thing is, my lists don’t just name an entry and move on. Each “worst song” included a paragraph-length explanation. It wouldn’t have taken much to convert the list into an essay—some might still have disliked it, but not because of its format. On the other hand, lists clearly interest a lot of readers. Most of my most-visited posts over the past couple of months have been lists.
So, I’m going to keep making them. Right now, I’m working on a list about songs in which Bowie mentions animals, which should be ready next week. That might sound trivial, but my focus is on what Bowie was doing with animal imagery. Simply listing “Hang on to Yourself” without explanation would be shallow. But considering why he evoked the vivid image of tigers on Vaseline is more substantive. If more people want to read that type of discussion in a list format rather than an essay, I’ll gladly give it to them as a list. The “worst of” post got more than 2,000 views. I expect this very essay to get fewer than 20—but who knows?
And that last point answers another common criticism: that nobody cares. A few commentators were incensed by my post—maybe for one of the reasons mentioned above. Rather than engaging with the content, though, they simply wrote that nobody cares what I have to say on the subject. But much like sales numbers, the response to that post provides a measurable answer to that question.