In which Bowie disregards his tendency to launch himself in a completely different direction evcery record he makes and, for once, allows himself to settle down and consoldiate what he's been up to for the last two or three records. So there's a bit of the frizzy Dylan (a la Space Oddity), a slice of wavery-voiced Bolan (circa The Man Who Sold The World), a sprinkling of gritty Lou Reed (from Transformer, which Bowie produced), and the subtlest hint of what was to come from Bowie himself next time round, i.e., Ziggy Stardust.
Take aforesaid ingredients, and wrap them up in a warm, cosy production brimming with acoustic guitars, small string sections and pianos, and you have a timeless record. The nearest equivalent is probably 2000's "Hours".
Hunky Dory is not all easy listening, though: while there's a distinct pipe and slippers feel to the opening half, nonetheless Bowie gives himself a fair old going over, and at times the imagery, taking in as it does such rum topics as family madness, heroin use, casual homosexual encounters and a dash of continental nihilism, isn't for the faint of heart.
But it adds to an engrossing experience that is easy enough on the ear to be a good starting point for a deeper investigation of David Robert Jones than you might find on a greatest hits package. Thoroughly recommended.
