11 de janeiro de 2013

David Bowie - Aladdin Sane

The Tune for Today is: 

David Bowie - The Jean Genie



Small Jean Genie snuck off to the city 
Strung out on lazers and slash back blazers 
Ate all your razorswhile pulling the waiters 
Talking bout monroe and walking on snow white 
New Yorks a go-go and everything tastes nice 
Poor little greenie, woo ho 
Get back home 

The jean genie lives on his back 
The jean genie loves chimney stacks 
Hes outrageous, he screams and he bawls 
Jean genie let yourself go! 

Sits like a man but he smiles like a reptile 
She love him, she love him but just for a short while 
Shell scratch in the sand, wont let go his hand 
He says he's a beautician and sells you nutrition 
And keeps all your dead hair for making up underwear 
Poor little greenie, woh ho 

The jean genie lives on his back 
The jean genie loves chimney stacks 
Hes outrageous, he screams and he bawls 
Jean genie let yourself go oh 

Hes so simple minded he can't drive his module 
He bites on the neon and sleeps in the capsule 
Loves to be loved, loves to be loved 
Woh ho 
Woh ho 

Aoo jean genie lives on his back 
The jean genie loves chimney stacks 
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls 
The jean genie let yourself go! go 

Go 

Jean genie lives on his back 
Jean genie loves chimney stacks 
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls 
Jean genie let yourself go woh ho go 
Go go


 Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine


Ziggy Stardust wrote the blueprint for David Bowie's hard-rocking glam, and Aladdin Sane essentially follows the pattern, for both better and worse. A lighter affair than Ziggy StardustAladdin Sane is actually a stranger album than its predecessor, buoyed by bizarre lounge-jazz flourishes from pianistMick Garson and a handful of winding, vaguely experimental songs. Bowie abandons his futuristic obsessions to concentrate on the detached cool of New York and London hipsters, as on the compressed rockers "Watch That Man," "Cracked Actor," and "The Jean Genie." Bowie follows the hard stuff with the jazzy, dissonant sprawls of "Lady Grinning Soul," "Aladdin Sane," and "Time," all of which manage to be both campy and avant-garde simultaneously, while the sweepingly cinematic "Drive-In Saturday" is a soaring fusion of sci-fi doo wop and melodramatic teenage glam. He lets his paranoia slip through in the clenched rhythms of "Panic in Detroit," as well as on his oddly clueless cover of "Let's Spend the Night Together." For all the pleasures on Aladdin Sane, there's no distinctive sound or theme to make the album cohesive; it's Bowie riding the wake of Ziggy Stardust, which means there's a wealth of classic material here, but not enough focus to make the album itself a classic.



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