Uncle Arthur is the opening track on Bowie’s 1967 self-titled studio released album. I call this his storybook album because every song tells a different story. When I listen to each song on the album, I imagine it as an illustrated picture book, although I’m sure most wouldn’t be suitable for children. The king of cool, glam-rock Bowie that you are familiar with is nowhere to be found on this album, and that is why I like it so much. It is Bowie in his first incarnation; art-school mime Bowie telling stories in the form of songs that couldn’t be further from the pop music grid.
Uncle Arthur definitely sets the tone for the wonky collection of songs that is to follow. The intro consists of clapping, a guitar strum, and another instrument playing something that sounds like it belongs in Riverdance. At first, I thought the instrument was a bagpipe, but a little internet research taught me that it is in fact a shawm, a relative of the oboe, a woodwind instrument.
Bowie sings the story of Uncle Arthur, an awkward man-child who still lives at home with his mom, works in the family store, and likes Batman and comics. It is easy to picture this Uncle Arthur, a socially inept mama’s boy who doesn’t have any friends and lives a lonely, unfulfilled life. Until, that is, Uncle Arthur meets a girl, Sally, and finally leaves his mom’s house to pursue a normal life. However, Uncle Arthur quickly realizes that life with Sally isn’t all he thought it would be; she can’t even cook. So he quickly ditches Sally and heads back to mom where he is guaranteed three delicious meals a day, a roof over his head, and a paycheck from a job he doesn’t have to work that hard at.
Aside from the silly story, what I love most about this song is Bowie’s thick Brixton accent, raw and unscathed by all of his years in America.