I bought this album on vinyl when it first came out in 1974. Owning it was de ri-fucking-gueur amongst teenaged Bowie fans at the time, which, to give us credit, shows that we were neither daft nor besotted of Bowie, because we also realised the worth of at least one of the musicians he was working with.
It's been a bit hard to come by until a re-issue end of last year, and it's taken me all this time to get around to ordering from an internet retailer. It wore the stylus out back in 1974. I seem to recall that I actually liked it better than my favourite Bowie albums at the time, Ziggy Stardust and Alladin Sane, though I couldn't swear to that, now. But he's certainly never been any kind of musical poor-relation of Bowie, not in our house anyway. I don't know when or how I parted with the vinyl, but it feels like it was a long, long time ago. It arrived in the post this morning and listening to it after, maybe, thirty years is, frankly, trippy. Like Salvia divinorum trippy. I loved that album then and I still love it now.
However, this promo video featuring dear departed Ronno himself is so cheesy I can't get past the first minute, despite the fact that it's a blank blue screen for about the first half a minute or something.