Not many performers have crossed as many generational and artistic lines as David Bowie. He is a touchstone for rockers, poppers, punks, goths, and electronic noodlers of all ages. He began as a second wave British Invasion crooner with an overt Anthony Newley fixation - work featured on The Deram Anthology 1966-68 (1997) - but rose to fame as the glitter antihero of The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars (1972). His early 70's work remains the definitive Bowie, though he has gone through many ch-ch-ch-changes since. To an old pop rocker such as myself, songs like "Rebel Rebel" and "Suffragette City," with their exotic admixture of macho swagger and androgynous tease, hold a unique thrill. Hunky Dory (1971), Aladdin Sane (1973), Diamond Dogs (1974), and others have many such moments - in no small part due to the superb axe work of Mick Ronson.

By David Live (1974), however, Bowie was ensconced in his "Thin White Duke" phase, and the albums that followed - Young Americans (1975) and Station To Station (1976) - hold an entirely different allure - cold and chic, deep in the groove. Ever the changeling, Bowie subsequently embarked on an ambient-flavored, Brian Eno-produced trilogy; Low and Heroes (both 1977), and to a lesser degree Lodger (1979), are groundbreaking, at once wonderful and difficult. In the early 80's, Bowie made his last big splash (commercially, at least) with the Nile Rodgers-produced Let's Dance (1983), which featured the guitar pyrotechnics of Stevie Ray Vaughan. While the album successfully translated Bowie's ambiguous sexuality and artistry into mainstream rock and dance dialect, he was unable to sustain that altitude on his increasingly pedestrian 80's albums.

Through the 90's to the present, however, David Bowie restlessly reinvented himself both as an artist and an entrepreneur. Most notably, he wrested control of his catalog from his label, RCA, and reissued it in fine form on Rykodisc (putting that label on the map), only to withdraw it for re-release by Virgin. His relentless exploitation of that catalog, on stage and on disc, has provided both pleasures and frustrations; the latest batch of reissues on Virgin is finally complete (and sounds lovely), but the bonus tracks from the Ryko CD's are largely absent. Further, due in large part to Bowie's catalog shuffle, dozens of retrospectives have been compiled, but none will satisfy. David Bowie has simply released too many records and donned too many disguises to be placed neatly in a niche - something I am sure delights him.

Anyway, just for fun, let's track the twisted progress of David Bowie's anthologies. We begin with Changesonebowie, an LP compiled back in 1976, followed by Changestwobowie in 1981. Rykodisc inaugurated their reissue program with the hybrid compilation Changesbowie (1990), a terrific CD marred only by a hip hop remix of "Fame." In addition, Ryko put together a three-disc boxed set called Sound + Vision (1989), reissued in 2003 by Virgin in a reconfigured 4-CD version; laden with rare and alternate versions, it's an ideal purchase for collectors - not casual fans. Later, Rykodisc issued The Singles 1969 to 1993 (1993), a nearly definitive 2-CD set. Eventually, Virgin issued their own Best of Bowie (available in one- and two-disc versions, 2002), which did little more than update Ryko's concept. Add to this mix a zillion collections issued in other countries and, well, you get the picture.

But, let's assume you're unwilling to surmount David Bowie's voluminous catalog - something I can recommend, at least through Let's Dance. As noted above, I believe Ryko's The Singles 1969 to 1993 to be the best-ever overview of his career; its 39 songs encompass almost every consensus Bowie classic, including non-LP tracks like "John, I'm Only Dancing," "Under Pressure" (with Queen), and, regrettably, David's loathsome duet with Mick Jagger, "Dancing In The Streets." But, The Singles 1969 to 1993 has been deleted for years (look for a used copy), though slightly jiggered imported versions are still available. Much easier to find, Virgin's Best of Bowie (the 2-CD version) surveys ten more years in the same space. Bumping great early songs like "Starman" and "Oh! You Pretty Things" in favor of lesser later tracks, it is inevitably watered down. But, Best of Bowie picks up "This Is Not America," a terrific collaboration with Pat Metheny from the movie The Falcon & The Snowman not found on The Singles 1969 to 1993.

David Bowie's new music during the 90's and beyond has borne heavy influences of industrial and electronic music, alienating older listeners (like me - not that David gives a flip) but not attracting that many young ones, though he is widely respected as an elder statesman of the movement. Bowie has been vocal in his support of electronic commerce (releasing some tracks for download in advance, others exclusively), so don't be surprised to find future his releases available only on the internet. Nothing David Bowie did would surprise me, and yet I suspect he will.