"Without You" by David Bowie

First, before going any further, have a listen to the song below:

https://youtu.be/YM85EOxgFnU

Now think of who played on this track – the three principal members of Chic (Bernard Edwards on bass, Tony Thompson on drums, and Nile Rodgers on guitar), the late Stevie Ray Vaughan on lead guitar, and David Bowie on vocals -- and try not to marvel. That assemblage of talent pushes the idea of “supergroup” into another dimension, but thankfully, we don’t have to imagine what it would sound like. We just have to listen to “Without You.”

“Without You” is the last track on Side 1 of Let’s Dance, Bowie’s 1983 global smash that vaulted him into the mainstream for a time. While many people have that album, most of those people likely don’t remember "Without You," and why would they? The three other tracks on Side 1 – “Modern Love,” “China Girl,” and the title track – formed the troika that made Bowie a multi-platinum commercial giant. Most artists would be able to dine out forever on just one of those songs, so it makes perfect sense that they would suck the oxygen out of the room, leaving the other cuts gasping for air. I’m sure there are some who don’t even know that album had a Side 2.

And yet, especially in light of his recent passing, the ghost of “Without You” lingers. Bowie famously dangled a brief “plastic soul” period in front of mid-‘70s America, and America bit hard, giving Bowie three Top 40 hits (and his first U.S. #1) in a two-year period. However, thanks in large part to his ace collaborators operating at the height of their collective powers, “Without You” is Bowie’s first authentically powerful soul/blues hybrid, despite being so light on its feet as to be discarded and dismissed, like so many pop songs that dare to speak to love and longing rather than, y’now, something that matters, man.

First, a nod to one of the most underrated in-the-pocket funky motherfuckers to ever drum the drums. “Without You” features Tony Thompson as neither the somewhat muted glue that held Chic songs together, nor the coked-out gated behemoth of his work on songs by Madonna and The Power Station. Instead, he finds that middle ground of being muscular but foundational, with his flourishes working to distinguish instead of extinguish.

His partners in rhythm, Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers, also command the sweet spot of complementing each other with an effortless elan; as usual, Edwards offers his elastic and polyrhythmic polish to the bass, while Rodgers layers accents with his trademark chicken-scratch guitar. It’s their unique symbiosis that fueled so many Chic tracks over the years, and it’s in full bloom here. They also allow Stevie Ray Vaughan the space to offer up some restrained yet tasty blues licks, and while fans know of SRV’s raw power and Texas tonality, he was also capable of tenderness and a slight opacity, the true colors of his considerable palate.

Which brings us to Bowie’s vocal and lyric. No one would argue that the lyric is either a vast panorama of challenging paranoia or a cut-up proto-punk amalgamation, but it most certainly falls into the lover’s longing category of the best R&B – it’s pithy and economical, with a slight cinematic verve:

Just when I’m ready to throw in my hand / Just when the best things in life are gone / I look into your eyes / (ooh ooh)

There’s no smoke without fire / (ooh ooh) / You’re exactly who I want to be with / (ooh ooh) / Without you / What would I do

And when I’m willing to call it a day / Just when I won’t take another chance / I hold your hand / (ooh ooh) / There’s no smoke without fire / (ooh ooh) / Woman I love you / (ooh ooh) / Without you / What would I do

Of course, what elevates the lyrics beyond trite banalities is the nuance and shading of Bowie’s vocal. Making ample use of his falsetto – more smooth and feathery than it was a decade ago, or a decade after – Bowie rides the updrafts with the adept skill of a veteran soul man, conveying a depth of heartache with an angel’s song. In a career full of R&B flashes – the cocaine funk of “Golden Years,” the New Jack stuttering of “Black Tie White Noise,” the flat mania of “Underground” – “Without You” is stripped of artifice and archness, Bowie at his most naked and alone. 

What's left is a depth of feeling, expertly conveyed, with one of the best studio bands of all time orchestrating those emotions with verve and flair. It’s three minutes of pop perfection with the weight of Western musical history in between the seams – rhythm and blues, white and black, American and England, joy and sorrow. What more can you ask for?