Because his cocaine use at the time was so heavy, David Bowie does not remember 1976, the year this album saw release. I suppose it’s just as well, since much of Station to Station sounds like the work of someone in a very unique place, much as this album holds a unique place in Bowie’s career—after the glam of the Ziggy Stardust era and the blue-eyed soul of Young Americans and before the self-imposed exile to Berlin and his ambient/electronic work with Eno there (and his concurrent kicking of the drug habit). This album combines many of his previous styles and influences and, in fact, hints toward his immediate future work; it’s a masterpiece in the depth of its songwriting and the breadth of its genre-juggling, all of which can, impressively, be seen in the title track alone. Overall: one perfect album of six perfect songs.