For a large proportion of his devotees, 1977’s Low sits at the (or somewhere very near the) pinnacle of David Bowie’s recorded output. The first entry in his revered ‘Berlin’ trilogy, Low found Bowie and trailblazing collaborator Brian Eno embarking upon a veritable odyssey of sound via an array of then state-of-the-art synths.
Split into two distinct halves, Low’s more conventional A-side was defined by a scattershot assortment of taut, full-band vignettes, interspersed with a handful of some of Bowie’s most glimmering gems of the decade (Sound and Vision, Always Crashing in the Same Car, Be My Wife).
But it was the album’s cutting edge, largely vocal-free second side, that blew most contemporary listeners away. Purposefully sequenced to run as a standalone listening experience, the mountainous, synthesized terrain marked a significant artistic leap. But it was a commercial and critical gamble.
