And in the death
As the last few corpses lay rotting on the slimy thoroughfare
The shutters lifted in ancient Temperance Building
High on Poacher’s Hill
And red mutant eyes gaze down on Hunger City

No more big wheels

Fleas the size of rats sucked on rats the size of cats

And ten thousand peoploids split into small tribes
Coveting the highest of the sterile skyscrapers
Like packs of dogs assaulting the glass fronts of Love
Ripping and rewrapping mink and shiny silver fox, now legwarmers
Family badge of sapphire and cracked emerald

In the Day Of The Dog
The Year Of The Diamond Dogs 

Well the first moments of the year 2000 wasn’t quite like that. I was right next to the Houses Of Parliament. I can’t remember how I got there – not through drink or drugs but a simple lack of appreciation of to why on earth I was on my own amongst this throng of people at midnight when I despise New Years Eve and its enforced sense of fun


I had driven into town, parked outside the exclusion zone in Earls Court and walked all the way down to the South Bank. Ken Livingstone and his pals had laid on free music and I remember a steel drum band making a marvelous racket under the arches of Waterloo Bridge, Glenn Tilbrook engaging the audience in a version of ‘Perfect Day’ a la the BBC advert and my first introduction to Alabama 3.


The Very Reverend Dr D. Wayne Love surveyed the 5pm family crowd and spoke – “Fuck the millennium, we gettin’ on for three thousand years on this rock….’ the rest of his intro drowned out by tutting parents and picking up of M&S blankets on the ground. They played a funky little set with a guy in full Santa costume dancing through the crowd swigging from a bottle of Jack D. They were followed by an Cuban band playing an endless version of ‘Guantanamara’ so I moved on. 


I recall walking over Westminster Bridge, getting stuck in a bit of a logjam of people, wandering back over to the south side, then along the embankment past two bridges closed to anything but emergency vehicles. There was hardly anything on the roads and it was full of people taking over the place. 


This was very much pre 9\11 times and I can’t imagine that sort of careless and spontaneous invasion of the heart of British power happened ever again without a riot kicking off. Eventually I made it back to around the Houses Of Parliament – countdown, cheers, random snogging and then walk back to Earls Court.

Oi, I hear you cry, what’s all this got to do with David Bowie’s 1974 concept album. Like Zabriskie, I’ll get to the point.


As I pulled out into the empty roads of London and onto the Westway to the world I had an important decision to make. Which album would I play first in this brave new age for humankind? 


Well I’ve sort of spoilt the surprise but it was The Dame’s ‘Diamond Dogs’. It was around 3am, I didn’t see anyone else on the road for a good 25 miles – it was as if the Y2K bug had hit and turned the world off. Sober and not speeding it was quite a feeling as this beautiful strange music carried me home.


As ne fule kno Diamond Dogs was partly influenced by Bowie’s attempt to write a musical version of George Orwell’s ‘1984’ populated by ‘A Clockwork Orange’s droogs and The New York Dolls. 
When Orwell’s widow crushed the project he created this dystopian soundscape. 


Although Ziggy was long dead, this albums marked the end of Bowie’s gender bending rock period. And I believe that the Sweet Thing\Candidate section on Side 1 may well be one of the best things he has ever done in his remarkable career.

It oozes sleaze, danger, sexual excitement and thrills. The song creates in my mind an archetypal New York City alleyway, its puddles of oil and water, scaffolding and fire escapes, overflowing garbage cans and stray cats picking at dead rats. 

Bowie’s vocal is deep and slightly raw and at turns soaring, his masterful use of falsetto on the immaculate intricate backing vocals a career highlight  The sultry wailing sax clinging to the razor guitar sound as the drums play a slow military beat slowly gathering pace as the tales of excitement and desperation takes hold joined by a sassy tambourine shake. 


It gives way to a more seductive reprise before sliding the dirtiest riffing in the world ending a little 9 minute masterpiece