Given his status as one of the most creative and inventive performers in rock history and the fact that he helped create music videos as an art form, I greeted the release of Best of Bowie on DVD with a hearty “it’s about time!” Granted, I already owned a lot of the material found here via the 1993 Video Collection laserdisc. However, the set stopped with a track from 1990, and it also didn’t include a lot of early-to-mid-Seventies footage that appears here. All in all, Bowie presents a whopping 22 clips that didn’t see the light on the earlier package, though a few live performances can be found elsewhere.

I can’t truly call Bowie a career spanning set since it stops with videos from 1999’s ...hours. We find nothing from 2002’s Heathen, even though the corresponding Best of Bowie CD set includes that album’s “Slow Burn”. Despite the omission of this brand-new footage, Bowie presents a packed piece of work that should please both casual fans and die-hards like myself.

Bowie starts in 1972 with David’s performance on the Old Grey Whistle Test. That program provides three songs: “Oh! You Pretty Things” and “Queen Bitch” from the then-current release Hunky Dory as well as “Five Years” from the soon-to-appear The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. From there we follow the music in the order the videos or TV show clips were created. That means we mostly see the songs in chronological order, but some variations occur. For example, Hunky Dory’s “Life on Mars?” wasn’t made into a video until July 1973, which means the clip doesn’t show up until after a couple of numbers from that year’s Aladdin Sane. From 1976’s Station to Station, “Wild Is the Wind” doesn’t appear until 1981, when they made a video to promote the Changestwobowie compilation.

Except for a couple of other chronological oddities, the rest of Bowie moves in the right order for the music, which allows us to watch Bowie’s evolution. That means the good, the bad, and the ugly. With some other video compilations – such as Bruce Springsteen’s - I’ve actually gone through and discussed my reactions to each song and video, but with 47 tunes here, that’d kill me.

If we look at the package from a historical perspective, I consider 1979’s “Boys Keep Swinging” to offer Bowie’s first “real” music video. This package’s initial few clips came from the aforementioned semi-live TV performances; for his appearances on Whistle Test, Top of the Pops, and Russell Harty Plus Pop, he sang live, but the music came from canned sources. Not that this made the pieces uninteresting. Actually, these provided some of the set’s best moments, as it’s delightful to hear Bowie do semi-live performances from the early days.

I also loved to see the visual changes between Whistle and Pops. Bowie radically glammed up his band in the interim, so they looked much flashier in the later performance. The story goes that the rather working class members of the Spiders resisted these accoutrements but they came to accept them when they learned the outfits helped them get girls.

From the early days, only “Young Americans” and “Ziggy Stardust” offered totally live material. Bowie fans will recognize the latter from the 1973 performance that comprised Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars: The Motion Picture. As I’ll note later, it sounded better than ever, but it remained something we could easily find elsewhere.

On the other hand, the Dick Cavett Show performance of “Young Americans” provided something much more elusive. Also completely live, it’s a treat to actually get to see this clip. The rendition didn’t seem terribly notable, but the completists in me felt delighted to inspect it, though I wondered why Bowie failed to include the version of “Fame” from the same program.

“John, I’m Only Dancing” provided the earliest clip that attempts a music video presentation. Basically a form of lip-synched performance, “John” didn’t pretend to be live like the TV show bits, but it showed little beyond simple miming.

With a few small expansions, this format dominated Bowie’s videos through 1977’s “’Heroes’”. For example, “The Jean Genie” incorporates a few actual live shots with studio lip-synching and images of Bowie on the street. However, with “Boys Keep Swinging” – from 1979’s Lodger - Bowie attempted something different. The clip did include a little mimed performance, but even those segments seemed more stylish than in prior clips. In addition, Bowie donned drag to emulate Hollywood stars in a move that made “Boys” much more memorable than it otherwise might have been.

And with that, Bowie started to make videos that offered more than the simple fake performances. Also from Lodger, “DJ” put Bowie in the radio booth to act out some aggression, and it also included some amusing street scenes; Bowie trots down the avenue and encounters many odd folks in apparently real situations. Lodger’s final offering, “Look Back In Anger”, took the video format a little farther, as it created an odd motif in which Bowie played a painter who developed a strange skin condition.

”Anger” bridged the baby steps toward “mini-movies” seen in “DJ” and “Boys” with “Ashes to Ashes”. From 1980’s Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps), “Ashes” created easily the most fully realized video of Bowie’s early days. In “Ashes” we really saw the emergence of a new format, as it went well beyond the simple miming and basic dramatics of earlier clips. It remains one of Bowie’s strongest videos.

Bowie made a major commercial breakthrough with 1983’s Let’s Dance, and the album’s videos helped spur that. Bowie’d largely been away from the music scene since 1980; other than the Changestwobowie compilation and his 1981 collaboration with Queen to create “Under Pressure”, we didn’t hear a musical peep from Bowie until he unleashed Let’s Dance. Many fans loathe this album, but I think it inspires a knee-jerk response unwarranted by the actual material; though not Bowie’s best, Lets’ Dance definitely doesn’t fall at the bottom of the pile.

The two main videos from Let’s Dance still hold up well. Both “Let’s Dance” and “China Girl” continued the progress made for “Ashes to Ashes”, except they showed stronger production values and better exposition. Shot in Australia, the videos told neatly encapsulated little tales, and they still work quite well. (The other two Let’s Dance videos presented simpler affairs, as they just showed live material. “Modern Love” dubbed the concert shots with the studio recording, whereas “Cat People (Putting Out Fire)” presented totally live footage and audio.)

Bowie’s follow-up album, 1984’s Tonight, offered a couple of better-than-average videos also. “Blue Jean” truncated the excellent long-form piece I’ll discuss later, but even out of context, the clip remained entertaining. I still wonder if Bono stole elements of this video. Not only does he continue to use a hand-held spotlight on stage, but also the bass player – actually one of the guys from one-hit wonders Right Said Fred – demonstrated a look that seemed an awful lot like Bono’s style in the Joshua Tree era material.

One of Bowie’s most intriguing videos – and better songs from the era – “Loving the Alien” offered a strange experience. Nonetheless, it presented an appropriately disturbing and evocative piece that made it memorable. Unfortunate note: both “China Girl” and “Alien” featured versions that slightly censored the originals. This meant none of the minor nudity seen in “Girl”, and we also lost the nosebleed shot from “Alien”.

Many viewed Bowie’s duet with Mick Jagger on “Dancing In the Street” as one of his lowest moments. Frankly, I now find it hard to disagree, but I absolutely adored the song and video back in 1985. Created to support Live Aid, the remake of the Martha and the Vandellas tune paired two of my then – and now – favorite singers, and the energy of that much star power still makes it hard for me not to love the video.

With that, we moved to DVD Two. One of Bowie’s better-regarded moments from the Eighties, 1986’s “Absolute Beginners” offered the title track of the film in which he also appeared. I never thought that much of the song, though it worked okay. The video itself seemed like somewhat of a bore, as it combined movie clips with shots of Bowie as he chased some cat chick through the streets.

Better movie tie-ins occurred with the next two tracks, both of which came from 1986’s Labyrinth. Actually, the video for “As the World Falls Down” seemed somewhat dull, as it mixed some vaguely romantic bits with movie shots. However, “Underground” appeared cute and clever, as it integrated Labyrinth characters in a lively and effective manner. The song also worked pretty well; I always liked the five Bowie tunes from the soundtrack.

Most fans – and Bowie himself, I believe – regarded 1987’s Never Let Me Down as his nadir. I actually find Tonight to be his worst album, but I must admit that Down didn’t exactly shine. Actually, I still feel that some of the songs themselves had potential, but the oppressive production smashed them. Nonetheless, the video for “Day-In Day-Out” provided a fairly compelling piece. Though somewhat incoherent, at least it tried to tell a tale, which made it more memorable than many. (Note that some have indicated that this version of “Day-In Day-Out” represented a censored one. I didn’t notice any alterations, but I can’t state with total certainty it kept all the original material. I know you still see a female nipple shot at one point!)

After a fairly bland clip for “Time Will Crawl” – which basically just presented a preview of Bowie’s then-upcoming 1987 tour – “Never Let Me Down” offered another reasonably interesting video. It showcased a dance marathon, with Bowie as the club performer. Creative and engaging, I liked this clip quite a lot, despite the excesses of the original material.

With that, we mostly lost Bowie for six years. He retreated from his solo indulgences to try to become a member of the band with Tin Machine. Unfortunately, no TM material appeared on this set, so the only evidence that he existed between 1987 and 1993 came from “Fame ‘90”. That video accompanied the tune’s remix and mostly showcased footage shot for his 1990 “Sound + Vision” tour. Notable mainly because Gus Van Sant directed it, “Fame ‘90” seemed unspectacular otherwise, though it made a nice souvenir of the tour.

Bowie finally reemerged as a solo artist with 1993’s Black Tie, White Noise. He reunited with Let’s Dance producer Niles Rodgers but failed to achieve that level of success, as Noise bombed commercially. That seemed too bad, as the album actually offered a fair amount of good material, which we observed via the record’s three singles. Of that trio, “Jump They Say” presented both the best song and top video. A Fincher-esque affair, the video offered a vibrant and compelling piece that nicely brought the tune to life.

”Black Tie” itself appeared less interesting – both as song and video – whereas “Miracle Goodnight” fell somewhere between the pair. Not a great clip, I liked the song quite a lot, and at least the video showed a writhing pile of barely-clad babes. I can’t knock that!

Many regard 1993’s The Buddha of Suburbia as the great lost Bowie album. I never cared that much for the record, and the dull video didn’t make it any more endearing. 1995’s 1. Outside showed Bowie in aggressive mode, especially via the first single and video, “The Heart’s Filthy Lesson”. Also featured during the end credits for that fall’s Se7en, “Lesson” offered one of my favorite Bowie songs, but the video didn’t do it justice. Choppy and grotesque in the style of Nine Inch Nail’s hit “Closer”, the clip seemed like little more than a rip-off of that success. Still, I had to give Bowie credit, for no one else of his generation could pull of this style of tune or video.

One of the weakest elements came from Outside’s “Hallo Spaceboy”. Though a good song on the album, this version featured the Pet Shop Boys’ lousy remix. The boring video also showed PSB and went nowhere.

I’d never seen most of Bowie’s post-Black Tie videos, which made most of them something of a disappointment. Since Bowie helped create the genre, I felt let down by the fact that so many of them seemed so ordinary and/or derivative. From 1997’s Earthling, “Little Wonder” provided a terrific song, but the video appeared unappealing. It demonstrated a jerky quality that seemed annoying; I worried it might induce a seizure. The excellent tune deserved better, as did “Dead Man Walking” and “Seven Years In Tibet”; while the former fell in the same hyperactive vein as “Wonder”, the latter featured nothing more than a lackluster compilation of fuzzy live segments.

At least the final Earthling video offered a compelling piece. Remixed by Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor, this clip featured Trent himself, as he stalked a paranoid Bowie. A simple video for the most part, it seemed intriguing and entertaining and marked one of Bowie’s better snippets from the latter half of the Nineties.

Best of Bowie ended with two videos from 1999’s ...hours. Of the pair, “Thursday’s Child” provided the stronger affair. A melancholy clip, it seemed subdued and effectively monotone, and it accompanied the music effectively. “Survive” appeared somewhat gimmicky – Bowie flew around a room as gravity failed – but it helped illustrate the song’s theme and came across as a reasonably interesting video.

When you combine quantity and quality, it becomes hard to top Best of Bowie. Admittedly, I’m totally in the bag for Bowie, as he’s been my favorite musical artist for well over a decade, but I think that even those folks less enamored of the man should find a lot to like from this collection. It gathers virtually all of his best-known work along with a few smaller gems into a fairly comprehensive program. No, it doesn’t cover all facets of Bowie’s extensive career, as it omits all of his work with Tin Machine and also leaves off tracks from his 2002 album Heathen among a few other clips. However, this quibbles fall into the nit-picking category, as Best of Bowie gives us a consistently excellent package.

Best of Bowie appears in an aspect ratio of 1.33:1 on these single-sided, double-layered DVDs; due to those dimensions, the image has not been enhanced for 16X9 televisions. Actually, the aspect ratios varied at times. Only one of the different dimensions appeared before DVD Two; “Loving the Alien” looked to be about 1.66:1. “As the World Falls Down” used mild letterboxing of about 1.5:1, while “Jump They Say” featured a ratio of approximately 2.0:1. “Miracle Goodnight” mostly utilized fullscreen images, but at times the dimensions narrowed down to about 2.66:1. “Buddha of Suburbia” presented approximately 1.66:1, while “Hallo Spaceboy” flipped between fullscreen and 1.66:1. Lastly, the final three clips – “I’m Afraid of Americans”, “Thursday’s Child”, and “Survive” – showed 1.78:1 dimensions.

Though many of these videos looked better than ever, they didn’t seem to always present the best visuals they could. The main problem I observed related to edge enhancement, and that issue showed up most heavily on DVD Two. At times, I saw some blurriness potentially due to this flaw on disc one, but not to any terrific degree. The band shots for “The Jean Genie” demonstrated a little enhancement, and “’Heroes’” showed some incredible haloes, but I felt the latter emanated from the original photography. Bowie really glowed at times, and since I saw nothing so heavy in DVD One’s other videos, I had to blame it on the source material.

That didn’t make sense for DVD Two, which seemed to be poorly mastered in general. From “Day-In Day-Out” to “Jump They Say” to “The Buddha of Suburbia”, quite a few of this disc’s videos demonstrated apparent edge enhancement. This made them significantly blurrier than they should be, and they also seemed somewhat jittery and overly rough at times.

Mostly, the clips on DVD One looked better than ever. The early shots from the TV show appeared surprisingly positive, as they displayed nice crispness and fairly clear and accurate colors. When we got to the filmed pieces, they varied more strongly, and I saw thicker hues and less definition as a whole. Nonetheless, the videos still represented the original material fairly well. The live “Ziggy Stardust” looked weak, but that won’t ever change, since the film from which it came always presented ugly visuals.

I won’t claim that the other videos offered strong visuals, but older clips of this sort never looked good, and the DVD made them seem about as positive as I could imagine. They displayed a mix of flaws at times, and usually appeared a little fuzzy and gauzy, but those concerns resulted from the original footage. Clips like “Let’s Dance” looked better than I remembered, as some of the videos showed stronger colors and greater clarity than I expected.

At times, the footage on DVD Two looked good, but the questionable mastering made the videos less than optimal. Title cards shimmered badly and seemed much less stable than those on disc one. “Day-In Day-Out” featured an intentionally grainy appearance, and other clips seemed somewhat soft and murky. “Time Will Crawl” looked crisper than its era-mates, at least. The three Black Tie, White Noise videos seemed especially problematic given their age. They looked fairly soft, with heavy, muddy colors. The videos varied after that, but they generally seemed acceptable though somewhat flat and hazy. The extreme quick cutting they featured tended to obscure some of the flaws. At least the collection ended on some fairly positive notes, as the last three videos presented more detailed and distinctive visuals. “Survive” seemed somewhat jaggy and edgy at times, but it generally came across as good.

It can be tough to assess the visual quality of music videos because of their various stylistic conceits. Many of them present intentionally flawed and erratic appearances, and when we factor the span of years covered by the videos in Best of Bowie, the issues become magnified. My biggest complaint about Bowie stemmed from the fact that the visuals really didn’t appear to improve a whole lot as the years progressed. Whereas the clips from the Nineties should have looked much better than those from the Seventies, some general softness and muddy colors made them less than spectacular. Enough of Best of Bowie offered decent picture quality to still merit a “C-”, but the apparently poor mastering of some elements meant that it should have scored much higher.

While still inconsistent, the PCM stereo soundtrack of Best of Bowie nonetheless offered stronger elements as a whole. The stereo imaging varied from tune to tune, with the narrowest spectrums heard during some of the TV clips on DVD One. Virtually everything on disc two offered reproductions of the studio recordings, which meant they showed the appropriate stereo spread and definition.

That also went for most of the material heard on DVD One, but some different mixes appeared as well. The TV pieces on that platter all showed monaural imaging. This included “Oh! You Pretty Things”, “Queen Bitch”, “Five Years”, “Starman”, “Rebel Rebel”, “Young Americans” and “Drive-In Saturday”. All except for “Rebel” featured live singing with taped music; “Rebel” was totally mimed, which made me wonder why they didn’t overdub a higher quality recording. “Americans” presented fully live music and singing, but it still remained monaural.

Given the range of sources found here, it didn’t seem surprisingly that the quality varied quite a lot. However, since most of the songs featured studio recordings, the majority sounded quite good. I didn’t think the audio fully equaled standard compact disc quality, but they came reasonably close. The tracks sounded somewhat dense on occasion, and they showed moderately muddy bass at times. However, the tracks generally seemed crisp and well defined. I’ve heard these songs about eight billion times each, and I felt the audio track replicated them acceptably well. They needed greater dynamics and stronger low-end reproduction, but the flaws didn’t appear terribly notable.

Standard studio recordings accounted for 38 of the set’s 47 songs. As for the other nine, they came from different sources. Two of them appeared on concert programs. From the 1983 Serious Moonlight video, “Cat People (Putting Out Fire)” offered audio that closely replicated the prior release. This meant that the mix lacked great range and depth, but the material seemed reasonably clear and listenable. The original recordings always sounded somewhat flat and punchless, so I couldn’t complain about the reproduction heard here.

On the other hand, the performance of “Ziggy Stardust” from the Ziggy Movie demonstrated radically improved audio compared to the original DVD. Clearly taken from the film’s recent theatrical upgrade, “Ziggy” presented very good clarity and dynamics that really helped bring it to life. I wouldn’t call this remix a revelation, as the album version of Ziggy Movie always sounded fine, but I felt very happy to finally find a film cut from the flick that showed positive audio.

Of the TV clips, the three from Old Grey Whistle Test sounded the best. They lacked much depth, but they showed good high-end clarity for the most part, and they demonstrated more than acceptable audio given their age and source. When we moved to “Starman” and “Drive-In Saturday”, the quality dipped somewhat. The clips remained acceptably distinct when I factored in their vintage, but they seemed somewhat flatter and less vibrant.

The final two TV pieces showed the worst audio of the collection. Like I mentioned, “Rebel Rebel” just used a studio recording, which made we wonder why they didn’t overdub a superior version. This one sounded thin and shrill across the board. Still, it worked better than “Young Americans”. That tune lacked depth or distinction and also appeared very distorted, especially in regard to David Sanborn’s sax playing. Still, most of Best of Bowie sounded fairly good, so the package as a whole earned a “B”.

When it became time for me to grade the supplements found on Best of Bowie, I ran into a dilemma. On the surface, it included virtually none. The set provided a booklet that provided song listings and musical credits, but otherwise, you’ll find no overt extras.

However, when we delve beneath the surface, we discover a wealth of cool pieces. Best of Bowie features extensive Easter eggs on both discs. Some appear without much trouble, but others take a little more work. I’ll look at them in chronological order, with only one exception, as I need to cover “Miracle Goodnight” before “Day-In Day-Out” for reasons that will make sense when I get to them.

First we discover an alternate take of “Oh! You Pretty Things” from Old Grey Whistle Test. This differs mainly due to Bowie’s vocal, which makes it somewhat interesting. To get to this one, run the program via the “Play All” option, go back to the main menu and do it again. Every other time you do this, you’ll see the alternate take instead of the original one.

It’s even easier to get to the Russell Harty interview that accompanies Bowie’s performance of “Drive-In Saturday”. Just go to the tracklisting page and click to the right of “Saturday”. This highlights a line; hit “enter” and you’ll get to see this moderately compelling little clip. As a footnote, it’s somewhat astounding to witness what a different personality Bowie showed as a young man compared to today. Yeah, we all change over the span of three decades, but he seemed to stiff and awkward back then, especially when viewed against the lively and funny presence he currently displays.

For easily the coolest supplement found here – or anywhere, for that matter – we get Jazzin’ for Blue Jean, the full-length version of the “Blue Jean” video. Back in the day when music video makers and musicians aspired to make mini-movies, we occasionally got pieces like this and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”, but none of them touch the quality of “Jazzin’”. Bowie plays two parts: a nebbish named Vic as well as Screamin’ Lord Byron, a rock star. He performs both of them splendidly – Bowie’s always been the best actor among rockers – and helps make this amusing and lively piece work tremendously well. In my book, “Jazzin’” remains the greatest music video ever created. I’d have paid $35 for the 20-minute clip on its own, so its inclusion as an extra here makes this package all the more valuable. I love “Jazzin’” so much that I felt tempted to give Bowie an “A+” for extras just because of it! (My more rational side won out, however, so I compromised with my “B”.)

To get to “Jazzin’”, head to the “Blue Jean” entry on the tracklisting page. Click to its right to highlight a “)”. This turns the lower-right-corner image of Screamin’ Lord Byron to one of Vic. Move to that picture and hit “enter” and you’ll then get to watch all 20 glorious minutes of “Jazzin’”.

”Jazzin’” presents an “egg within an egg”. During the long-form video, hit “enter” when the girl goes to the video jukebox and “Blue Jean” starts to play on the screen. This sends you to an alternate version for MTV of “Blue Jean”. Bowie mimes the song in a London room. The three-minute, 50-second clip doesn’t seem terribly special, but this still adds a nice bonus for the package.

For the set’s most inconsequential – and obvious – egg, click on the lightning bolt next to “Ziggy Stardust” in the tracklisting page. This sends you to a stillframe ad for the upcoming DVD reissue of Ziggy: The Motion Picture. What a disappointment!

Now we move to DVD Two, where we get some additional eggs. To hear a remix version of “Miracle Goodnight”, go to the track listing page that mentions the song. After that, sit back and wait; after a few minutes, the disc will automatically play this remixed tune. The video itself seems identical to the original one; only the mix varies. I prefer the album version of the song, but it’s nice to find an option.

Once you check out the remixed “Miracle”, the DVD allows you to watch an extended dance mix of “Day-In Day-Out”. Just click on the video and it’ll present this alternate version. Unlike “Miracle”, this one changes both the visuals and the music. It uses the same source video materials as the standard clip, but it chops them up and makes the piece fairly incoherent. As with “Miracle”, I didn’t think much of the alternate video, but I still appreciate its inclusion. (By the way, the title of this egg makes little sense, as this version of “Day-In” is shorter than the album cut.)

Bowie recorded a version of “Seven Years in Tibet” with Mandarin vocals, and the DVD tosses in a video with that track. To access this, turn on the subtitle stream, and you’ll see a Mandarin character at the start of “Tibet”. Just hit “enter” and it’ll run this alternate version of the song. Interestingly, it doesn’t just alter the recorded track; the video itself seems moderately different, as you’ll notice that Bowie’s vocals clearly reflect the Mandarin lyrics.

For the DVD’s final egg, we get ”Survive” live in Paris from October 1999. To access this clip, do what you did to get the alternate take of “Oh! You Pretty Things”. Just run the “Play All” option twice and this’ll bring up the live “Survive”. A good performance of the song, this feature ends the eggs well. (Note that the DVD’s credits list all of the eggs, but that area doesn’t tell you how to access them.)

Since I adore the music of David Bowie above that of all others, one can’t expect me to view this Best of Bowie compilation too objectively. Even with my bias, I still think the package offers a terrific set of work. Bowie helped pioneer the format, and this collection shows his evolution and that of the genre. Picture quality seems somewhat lackluster and moderately disappointing, though many of the clips look better than ever. DVD Two presented the some of the biggest problems, mainly due to somewhat poor mastering of that disc. Audio presented reasonably crisp and concise reproductions of the source material, and the Easter eggs added some excellent components. Best of Bowie doesn’t offer the slam-dunk I would have liked, but I still have to recommend this extensive anthology, flawed mastering and all. Bowie remains a great musical artist, and Best of Bowie provides a terrific sampling of his work that should please both newbies as well as die-hard fans.