My Month of Bowie, day 15: 'Let's Dance' (1983)

In 1983, David Bowie wanted his MTV, and the feeling was mutual.

The album: Let's Dance (EMI America, 1983)

Bowie's gonna fly now.

My thoughts: You'd probably guess that legacy artists of the 1960s and 1970s had a tough time of it in the 1980s. In short order, the basic cable network MTV drastically changed the music industry, making instant superstars out of flashily-dressed young synth rockers with teased hair and heavy makeup. Suddenly, the music video was the format of choice, emphasizing style and image over substance. Surely, then, the decade would belong to the Adam Ants and Boy Georges of the world. The obsolete rock and pop acts who had dominated the charts in previous decades would be sidelined to make room for these brash upstarts.

And yet, look at what actually happened in the 1980s. Bruce Springsteen and Michael Jackson, both well established by the time Reagan took office, reached unprecedented heights of popularity in the new decade. Pop tunesmiths like Billy Joel, Elton John, and Paul McCartney didn't disappear from the charts either. Potential '70s dinosaurs like Yes, Genesis, Chicago, and Heart overhauled their sound to better suit the times. Legacy acts like Steve Winwood, The Moody Blues, and especially Aerosmith staged impressive comebacks. Nostalgia-themed films like Back to the Future (1985), Stand by Me (1986), Dirty Dancing (1987), and La Bamba (1987) kept classic rock alive on radio and TV.

In short, the past didn't go away. It was everywhere!

So David Bowie, still only in his 30s, had a better-than-average shot at making it big in the 1980s. Reinvention was his thing. He was more than photogenic enough to be a music video star. And he'd been incorporating electronic elements into his music for years. The cover of his first MTV-era album, Let's Dance, showed the singer as a prizefighter. Clearly, this was a fight he'd been training for. And he had a new producer in his corner: Chic's Nile Rodgers, who drew inspiration from his own (plentiful) hit records, particularly "Good Times."

One curious thing about Let's Dance is that it contains three inescapable hits that I heard dozens of times in the '80s—"Modern Love," "China Girl," and "Let's Dance"—and those are the first three songs on the album. Back to back to back, baby! I heard these tracks so many times as a youth that it's difficult to "review" them now. It's like trying to review your old yearbooks or your family vacation photos. I suppose I still like all of them in 2025, though my feelings are all tied up with complicated mixed emotions about my childhood. 

Who can forget the video for "China Girl"? Was it part of your erotic awakening, too? At the time, it might've been the sexiest thing I'd ever seen on TV. Somehow, they found a woman (New Zealand model Geeling Ng) who looks like the Asian female equivalent of David Bowie. They even have the same face shape! It's a truism that rock stars are attracted to women who look just like them. I'm aware that David first recorded "China Girl" with Iggy Pop for The Idiot (1977). If I have time at the end of the month, I may review the two Iggy albums that David did during his Berlin era. In the meantime, I have to show you this Family Guy clip that references the Bowie video.

When I hear "Let's Dance," my mind goes immediately to Frank Zappa's satirical response, "Be in My Video," from his Them or Us (1984) album. Frank saw the whole MTV phenomenon as being shallow and silly, and the lyrics to "Be in My Video" directly reference "Let's Dance" and "China Girl." Do you think Bowie ever heard it? What might his response have been? He might say that he did what he had to do to survive in the 1980s. And it worked! Let's Dance kept him relevant in the era of Oingo Boingo and Haircut 100.

As for "Modern Love," I'd be comfortable putting it on the list of the greatest Bowie songs of all time. It easily makes my Top 10. I'm not sure if true blue Bowie-holics would agree, but I've made a point of not caring what they think. "Modern Love" has the energy of a great Motown track. It could have been a Supremes song, recorded in the same session as "You Can't Hurry Love." It's typical of Bowie that he takes a song about alienation and makes it exhilarating and irresistible. 

But that brings me to something else that's curious about Let's Dance: Bowie himself. As the title of the album indicates, this is supposed to be a fun night on the town. And it is. But Bowie hasn't changed his demeanor much from his previous, less danceable albums. He still has that "spooky Victorian ghost" personality that he's had for most of his career. I'd say that, for most of Let's Dance, he sounds like a combination of Marlene Dietrich (or Lili von Shtupp), Marvin the Paranoid Android from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and the Cowardly Lion on downers. Vocally, he tends to stick to his lower register throughout this album. Or maybe that's just how his voice has aged. As I said in my review of David Bowie (1967), he never really sounded "young," even when he was 19.

Nothing else on Let's Dance has quite the impact of those first three songs. Then again, the other seven songs weren't in heavy rotation on MTV, so they're at kind of a disadvantage. But I didn't notice any real duds among them. At first, I thought including a song from David's movie Cat People (1982) was a bit self-indulgent, but that track turned out to be one of the more memorable tunes on Side 2. So I'm glad it's here.

As I listened to this album twice all the way through, I kept noticing the bluesy guitar solos on many of the tracks. "Boy," I thought, "that guy's good, whoever he is." Later, I looked up Let's Dance on Wikipedia and checked out the personnel list. The guitarist I'd been enjoying was none other than Stevie Ray Vaughan! Small world, huh?

So what now? Bowie managed to crack the MTV code. But what does he do for an encore? Guess we'll find out tomorrow. 

Next: Tonight (1984)