I think this is different enough, and like Drinky, I don't think I've listened to an actual Marley album.

A remarkable recording for many reasons, the debut of Tin Machine predates by nearly half a decade much of the guitar-oriented alternative pop that followed the grunge explosion of 1991-1992. This does not sound like Bowie in a band; missing are the quirkiness and theatrics that characterize much of Bowie's solo work. This is a band with a band attitude, not exactly what the fans were wanting at the time. Stunt guitarist Reeves Gabrels provides much in the way of ambient guitar solos, not unlike Adrian Belew's work. Drummer Hunt Sales provides a sticky tenor vocal similar to Bowie's own voice in a higher register; they blend very well together. The music is hard-edged guitar rock with an intelligence missing from much of the work of that genre at the time. Highlights include the emotional "Prisoner of Love" and the driving "Under the God." The band does a rocking rework of John Lennon's "Working Class Hero," with a killer machine-gun fire-sounding riff that permeated the track. The strongest analog to Bowie's earlier work is a five-minute number toward the beginning of the record called "I Can't Read"; with its deliberately out-of-tune guitars and half-hearted vocals, it's a nice piece of artistry. This record would have been more popular had it been released five or six years later.

There's some Bowie I like, but for the most part could never figure out who the hell David Jones wanted to be

The second (and essentially final) Tin Machine installment finds the group polishing up their sound significantly making a well-produced collection of songs. Many songs -- notably "Amlapura" or "Goodbye Mr. Ed" -- come as less than raucous rock songs (as heard on the previous record) but more as sonic works of art. Strong opener "Baby Universal" is infectiously catchy. Bowie is featured on saxophone on several numbers, particularly "You Belong in Rock & Roll" -- an interesting side to this record. Admittedly, this album takes some getting used to, but repeated listenings are very rewarding. Much of the difficulty with Tin Machine II rests in some general confusion with what guitarist Reeves Gabrels is doing with his guitar; he doesn't play it like a guitarist is supposed to play. He plays long textural notes that shift in pitch and intensity. He does not play on the beat, and he does not play licks that you will be humming when the song is over. Frequent listenings will prove this a beautiful enhancement to the music rather than a mosquito buzzing in the ear. Lead vocals by Hunt Sales on "Stateside" and "Sorry"; his high, somewhat whiny voice adds yet another dimension to the sound of this group. Much of their work came to light before the radio-listening/music-buying public was really ready to hear it -- a later release of this music may have faired better in public opinion. This is a well-conceived and well-executed recording. The cover of the U.S. release of this record features the Kouros statues on the front with their genitalia apparently broken off. European releases show the statues anatomically intact.

Black Tie White Noise was the beginning of David Bowie's return from the wilderness of post-Let's Dance, the first indication that he was regaining his creative spark. To say as much suggests that it's a bit of a lost classic, when it's rather a sporadically intriguing transitional album, finding Bowie balancing the commercial dance-rock of Let's Dance with artier inclinations from his Berlin period, all the while trying to draw on the past by working with former Spider from Mars guitarist Mick Ronson, collaborating with Let's Dance producer Nile Rodgers, and even covering inspiration Scott Walker's "Nite Flights." On top of that, the record was inspired by his recent marriage to supermodel Iman -- the record is bookended with "The Wedding" and "The Wedding Song" -- and then tied up and presented as a sophisticated modern urban soul record, one that draws from uptown soul (including, rather bafflingly, a duet with Al B. Sure!) and state-of-the-art dance-club techno, while adding splashy touches like solos from avant jazz trumpeter Lester Bowie and a nod to modern alt-rock via a nifty cover of Morrissey's "I Know It's Gonna Happen Someday." That's a lot of stuff for one record to handle, so it shouldn't come as a great surprise that the album doesn't always work, but its stylish restlessness comes as a great relief, particularly when compared to the hermetically sealed previous solo Bowie record, 1987's Never Let Me Down. Black Tie White Noise displays greater musical ambition than any record he'd made since Scary Monsters, and while much of the record feels like unrealized ideas, there are songs where it all gels, like on the paranoid jumble of "Jump They Say," the aforementioned covers, the impassioned "You've Been Around," and the self-consciously smooth title track. Moments like these are the first in a long time to feel classically Bowie, and they point ahead toward the more interesting records he made in the second half of the '90s, but they are encased in a production that not only sounds dated years later, but sounded dated upon its release in the spring of 1993, two years into the thick of alternative rock. At that point, the club-centric, mainstream-courting Black Tie White Noise seemed as an anachronism during the guitar-heavy grunge-n-industrial glory days -- something Bowie tacitly acknowledged with its 1995 successor, Outside, which was every bit as gloomy as a Nine Inch Nails record -- but separated from the vagaries of fashion, it's an interesting first step in Bowie's creative revival.

David Bowie seemed like an artist without direction ever since the success of Let's Dance, switching styles and genres with a speed that made him appear nervous, not innovative. Recorded with his former collaborator Brian Eno, Outside was intended to return some luster to his rapidly tarnishing reputation. Instead of faux soul or mainstream pop -- or even dissonant hard rock, for that matter -- Bowie concentrates on the atmospheric, disturbing electronic soundscapes of his late-'70s "Berlin" trilogy (Low, Heroes, and Lodger), adding slight, but detectable, elements of industrial, grunge, and ambient techno. Bowie also raised the stakes by making Outside the first in a series of concept albums about mystery, murder, art, and cyberspace. Everything that would have made Outside a triumphant comeback seemed to be in place, but the album is severely flawed. Not only is the story poorly developed and confusing, but the album is simply too long. Throughout the record, good ideas bubble to the surface, yet are never fully explored, and the sheer bulk of the album means that the good songs -- "Hallo Spaceboy," "Strangers When We Meet," "The Hearts Filthy Lesson" -- are buried underneath the weight of the mediocre material. Furthermore, nothing on the album is a departure from Bowie's late-'70s records; when he does experiment with newer musical forms or write about futuristic technology, he seems unsure of himself. That said, Outside is Bowie's most satisfying and adventurous album since Let's Dance. It's clear that he's trying once again, and when he does hit his mark, he remains a brilliant artist.

Yeah, this is my first time hearing this stuff, too.

Not as bad as the late '80s stuff, but pretty boring and forgettable.

Jumping on the post-grunge industrial bandwagon with Outside didn't successfully rejuvenate David Bowie's credibility or sales, so he switched his allegiance to techno and jungle for the follow-up, Earthling. While jungle is a more appropriate fit than industrial, the resulting music is nearly as awkward. Though he often gets the sound of jungle right, the record frequently sounds as if the beats were simply grafted on top of pre-existing songs. Never are the songs broken open by a new form; they are fairly conventional Bowie songs with fancy production. Fortunately, Bowie sounds rejuvenated by this new form, and songs like "Little Wonder" and "Seven Years in Tibet" are far stronger than the bulk of Outside. Still, the record falls short of its goals, and it doesn't offer enough intrigue or innovations to make Earthling anything more than an admirable effort.