YOUNG AMERICANS
* The little drum intro with the sweep across the piano keyboard
* The saxophone
* The way Bowie draws out “nowhere” in the first verse.
* The background vocals singing the title in the chorus, and the “Woo-ooo-ooh”s on the second verse. Arranged by Luther FUCKING Vandross.
* The “middle eight” with the topical 1970s references that continue into the third/fourth verse’s depiction of African American culture
* Bowie’s falsetto “well, well, wells”
* A Day In The Life shout-out
* The series of questions culminating in Bowie’s falsetto “Ain’t there one damn song…” and that cold stop.
But honestly, this is perhaps the greatest lyric Bowie ever wrote. It doesn't rhyme AT ALL, and is very expressionistic. Look at the first verse alone:
They pulled in just behind the bridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I
still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
"It took him minutes/took her nowhere" is such a perfect, funny comment on someone's "first time".
Then you have various gems like:
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
What a picture.
Just you and your idol sing falsetto
'bout Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression?
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheeners
and this whole fucking section:
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a Caddy and a lady got a Chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
(I heard the news today, oh boy)
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man who can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman I can
sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
break down and cry?
While one could say that Bowie rushes through these words and that the lack of rhyming makes it hard to sing along and remember the words, I feel he's spewing this out like a fevered preacher, or maybe just some madman on the corner. But this is legit downtown street style up there with anything Lou Reed ever wrote. It's fascinating when looked at in contrast to everything else he's done, and works perfectly with the Philly soul sound he's exploring on the album as a whole.
Listen to it one more time, read along with the lyrics.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ScVi_L817ec