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Posted at 2026-02-21 20:56:13(1 hr ago) (Bowie General / Images Extra)

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The Images installments have officially ended. The last three or four were probably jumbled out of order but as I mentioned even the author, Jamie Soule, lost track of how many there were toward the end. I remember him referring readers to someone else's website who had been collecting and reposting them but that site is long gone. And alas, Jamie passed away a few years ago just as I was trying to get in contact with him for some background.

I did stumble upon one more tidbit and this comes from non other than our good friend Nacho's Videos. He posted a review that Jamie had written of the David Bowie concert at the Montreal Forum in 1976. I hope you enjoy this first hand account of the Isolar Tour...

Nacho's Videos
March 7, 2017 ·
David Bowie - Live at the Montreal Forum - 25th of February 1976 - Jamie Soule Review.

I am very grateful to Roman in Montreal, who has kindly sent me this really outstanding first-hand review of Bowie's '76 show in Montreal. It was written be a fan, Jamie Soule, and posted to a Bowie blog site, in 2002.
It is a fantastic, long and evocative read; one of the very best things I have ever read about the '76 shows. And now, more than ever, I long for the day that we see proper and complete footage of the Station To Station tour.

Attached is the video of Station To Station - Live 1976. I constructed it from the reel of silent Super 8 footage from the same Montreal Forum show. The footage was shot by Monsieur Phillippe Bergeron, who kindly sent it to me last year.
David Bowie - Live at the Montreal Forum - 25th of February 1976 - by Jamie Soule:

Life was better in the seventies it seems, especially if one was the
ripe old age of eighteen and had spending money. Montreal was a good place to live back then in an era when there were as many good bands as there are bad today. All the bands played Montreal and it wasn't unusual to get a concert every two weeks at times. Therefore, it wasn't difficult to become rather nonchalant at the announcement of yet another tour coming to town. No one got overly excited at the prospect of the Stones, Yes, Zeppelin, Bowie, Supertramp, Tull, Cat Stevens, Elton John or The Who making their rounds again. It was natural it seemed.
Nineteen seventy six as I remember was a carefree year, one without any major life crises that can befall a teenager. I was working in a plant that made printing ink and was making great money. There were no lack of vices to spend the money on either. My newest Bowie purchase was Station To Station. It had been two years since the last album which was an eternity considering we usually got one a year and some times two. Station was released with little hype, as were most Bowie albums back then. I remember the first day it hit my turntable which was of course the day it hit the record store. Nothing to worry about on the way home either, after all this was a Bowie album so there is a slight chance of maybe one bad song. All Bowie albums back then were near perfect. Station To Station was no exception and the best Bowie album to date. Station had it all. The sound was new, and again, unlike what any other artist was writing at the time. Bowie had something something to say in those days which was evident in the meaningful and thought provoking lyrics he used to write. For a lot of fans that was the major attraction. Bowie fans were the "intellectual" crowd.
"Going to Bowie," a friend and co worker asked. "What the fuck do
you think," I replied. "Got your tickets?" "Lot's of time," I
said. "You know it won't sell out" He had two extra tickets for sale
as it turned out which happened to be fourth row center. The bastard wanted two dollars over cost for them which was twenty five percent of the ticket price. I said okay after bitching about the markup. He said he'd bring them the next day. True to his word he appeared at work with the tickets the next morning. Here they are and that'll be twenty three dollars he said. I took out my wallet and paid, gave the tickets a once over and put them in my wallet. A done deal.
Winters are cold in Montreal but you get used to it. February twenty
fifth 1976 was an exception however, as it was rather mild. On the
train downtown with my girlfriend I must have pulled out those Bowie tickets from my pocket a hundred times to make sure I had them. I can still remember the words. Donald K Donald presents David Bowie February 25, 1976, The Forum, 7:30 p.m., no opening act, $8.50. Why no opening act I wondered. That was unusual. These concerts are getting expensive.
The buzz was in full gear outside the Forum when we arrived. A
generous mix of ecstatic fans, scalpers, dealers and of course the
police. I am jealous of the police, not only do they get in free,
but always get to stand by the stage and don't get crushed. I
suspect because of these nice perks that half of them are
bootleggers too. I can hear them the next day, "Hey Sergeant I got
Bowie last night right off the monitors." So fucking what. I busted
Keith Richards and Iggy when they were here. I'm getting $20.00 a
tape for first generation confessions.
One thing that never fails me is the rush of excitement you get when you enter the stadium. To see the crowd and the empty stage you realize that this is really happening and is not a dream, yet it
seems so surreal. Unbelievable almost. The Forum holds maybe around 20,000 people, as most hockey arenas do, so it isn't that big. This was before "stadium rock" which in my opinion is a weapon used for fan abuse. The walk to our seats was effortless which was a good thing because I remember feeling a little "light headed," at the time. Must be something I "ate." Good thing I don't buy tour programs until after the show is over because I would probably lose it in this state. These seats are great.
I remember looking at the stage and it had "something" about it that stood out. It wasn't what was on the stage, but what was not on it. Gone was the extravagance of Diamond Dogs, this stage looked bleak because it was empty. The instruments were all in their stands. There was a black backdrop and these strange fluorescent tubes at the back of the stage, overhead and on the sides. There were no other lights and no props. This better be good. It's almost eight o'clock.
Twenty minutes pass and I am restless. I have just finished saying
that I wish he'd hurry up when it starts. The Forum is plunged into
darkness and the crowd starts cheering. We are waiting for the first
notes to blast off the stage but the band does not appear. Minutes
pass. We are left here to sit in the dark, and sit we do. As we wait
the cheering is being replaced by questions. What's all this about?
Where is Bowie? We've been sitting here in the dark for over five
minutes.
A few more minutes pass before the opening images of Chien D'Anjalou appear on a screen. A movie to open a concert? Strange seems to be the consensus. I think strange is a good way to describe this Salvador Dali and Lois Brunell film. The film is short yet I don't remember all of it. What I do remember, and always will, is that the closing scene is a razor blade slicing open an eye revealing the inner contents. The film ends. Everyone is quiet while they try to comprehend what they just saw. Imagine that, silence at a Bowie concert.
The first note out of Stacy Heydon's guitar almost knocked me out of my chair. I was caught completely off guard, as was everyone else. Even from my seat in the fourth row I never saw anyone walk out. The stage still looks empty in this darkness. One white spotlight suddenly reveals Heydon as he wails through notes that have the power of a thousand locomotives. Another white spotlight and Tony Kaye appears as he hits the first piano notes of Station To Station. Another beam and George Murray appears out of thin air. Carlos Alomar and Dennis Davis follow. The intro is long and gives me a good opportunity to just hear the band. I swear to this day out of the thirty times that I have seen Bowie live this is the most
cohesive group of musicians he has played with. The only other time that I have witnessed anything close was 95, and I consider it on par. The whole place became absorbed by the band. You had to listen. The audience on the right in the stands suddenly start to cheer. They can see backstage. Bowie.
It was around quarter to nine when "it" appeared. Yes, "it." Believe
me that from what I witnessed, this character did not fit into any
category, including that of being human. I watched with intensity as
The Thin White Duke drifted out from behind a stack of amplifiers.
It wore simple clothing that consisted of black pants, black shoes,
a white shirt and a black vest. The cuff links were gold. A cape was
hanging over its right shoulder and in the left hand was a red rose.
The blue package of Gitanes was visible in the vest pocket. As Bowie drifted out the Forum erupted with applause and cheers. The facial expression did not waver. The Thin White Duke was disconnected from these surroundings. It was as if he had just dropped in to perform a function and then disappear again. I did not know how right I was until after the show. As Bowie approached the front of the stage I glanced at the people around me. Same facial expressions on all of them, dumb struck.
It is now standing directly in front of me to the right of the
microphone. While walking to the front of the stage it did not look
once in the direction of the band. The body was very thin but not
frail. The skin was ash coloured, almost gray. The cheeks were
noticeably sunken in and the skin seemed to just hang off the cheek bones. The eyes were sunk back. Skeletal, yet graceful. This all seemed to fit into the black and white theme. It could very well
have been the continuation of Chien D'Anjalou. Perched on top of
this frame was slicked back hair that was dyed brilliant red with
two blond streaks in the front. I talked to people after the show
who were sitting quite far away. To see Bowie they just followed the
hair.
The band is in a frenzy and the cape is discarded. No smile, just
words, "The return of The Thin White Duke throwing darts in lovers
eyes." The Forum erupts. The fluorescent tubes flicker. White light
only. I make my way to the front by hopping over chairs and I'm
there before he asks if he's been stricken. "It's too late,"
actually sung with conviction to the pounding of Kaye's piano. Yet,
he does not move anything except his right leg to tap to the beat.
As Heydon works wonders on the guitar solo Bowie walks away. This will become quite common place. Anytime there is a break from singing duties, even mid song, Bowie heads to the shadows.
The rose is in his clenched teeth. Suffragette City next, and no
break. It still sounds fresh. The song is four years old. Bowie
moves a bit. "Wham Bam" was all it took to silence even the nastiest of critics. A blank expression. No interaction with the band or the audience. He didn't need to. I have never witnessed anyone being able to command the undivided attention of 16,000 people with not a word spoken directly to them. Only a fool would call Bowie a "musician." An enigma is diverse.
"Hello Montreal. It's good to be back here." Words spoken to the
air. His eyes never gazed into the crowd. I imagine it was difficult
for this creation to have a concept of "here." What does it matter
anyway, because for me, The European Cannon "is" here. The opening notes to Fame. Bowie lights a cigarette. The cufflinks are off and with his cigarette casually hanging off his lips, he rolls up his
sleeves. Alomar is having fun with this riff. Fame is unflattering
towards stardom and Bowie echoed this. The event that was unfolding in front of us was not about "show business." It was not stained by corporate greed. That was lacking. How could you get greedy when this "performance" like many on this tour didn't sell out. This was about something real.
You can feel the piano and guitar at the beginning of Word On A Wing grab you. That is one feature I really like on Station To Station.
The opening of every song on that album is quite unique. They start
out so easy and build to some of the best rhythms I have yet to hear on any Bowie album. They get rather complex as well as is the case in the title song. There are four distinct rhythms going on at the same time in places. The microphone has left its stand and is being transported closer to the crowd. As Bowie carries it I can't help notice that Alomar and the rest of the band are swaying as they play. Unlike the lead role. Word On A Wing slowly builds. I can't say enough about Tony.
I can't listen to live versions of certain Bowie songs these days.
The reason is because he lacks any type of conviction. There is no
emotion there at all. He just runs through them and gets it over
with. The latest live renditions of Word On A Wing are indicative of
this. For those who disagree you must not own Rotterdam, Vancouver or Nassau. I'd rather not hear those songs played. He can play others. I don't care to hear Pink Floyd lecture me on the evils of money either at a million dollars a show.
David Bowie is on one knee four feet away from us with an
outstretched arm pointing at the sky. "Lord I kneel and offer you my
word on a wing," is delivered as almost a personal sacrament. It's
okay Dave, I believe you. Great time to forget my camera. Did the
same thing for the Iggy tour with Bowie on piano. Good thing my head is attached.
The crowd has taken a few moments after the ending of Word On A Wing before clapping. It seems almost out of respect. I've never seen anything like this ever happen before. People seemed to have more respect years ago than they do now. I am at the front of the stage and am not being crushed. I usually manage to get this close at most concerts due to my size. Being small has its advantages because you can squeeze past people quite easily. I was so crushed the last time I saw Bowie I wished I had a baseball bat. I will next time. Most of us have gone from a state of reverence to "party." The riff at the beginning of Stay can wake the dead. Stacy Heydon reminds me of a kid let loose in a candy store. He is moving around and you can just see the excitement. What a break he got and he is enjoying every minute. We are not the only ones moving. Bowie is swaying too. Both hands on the mike, hips sway, "This week dragged past me so slowly." Just before the instrumental in the middle Bowie screams out "Staaaay aaa aaaa aaaa aaa ay if you want to." It's not on the studio version. What a voice. Alomar and Heydon take over. Bowie leaves the stage.
There is something about watching this that is difficult to
reiterate. Several people I know who saw this tour in different
places agreed with me. It was almost like it wasn't happening. It
was more like watching a suspense movie on TV. You know the feeling where you are all wrapped up in the plot and can't get away. Well, this show was so surreal that it was difficult to believe it was
actually happening yet so intense you could not absorb it all.
Riveted, for lack of a better word, to whatever this was. Bowie
wanders back. I'm Waiting For The Man is a non event. Bowie looks quite stoned.
Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh.
Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh.
TVC15. The fun starts. Bowie laughs at something Alomar said to
George Murray. Tony Kaye is doing justice to Bittan. Heydon is
swaying somewhat like a jack in the box. We are all smiles. "Transmission," Bowie is dancing, or trying to anyway. He is
out of step to the music. Both index fingers play imaginary drums.
This band is so tight. Their timing is perfect even though there are
a lot of breaks added to the songs. It can't be easy yet it sounds
effortless. My girlfriend hasn't spoken a word. She just stands
there and stares. Most people in here are like that now. Totally
mesmerized.
"It's a God awful" Total silence. "small affair." No one will
interrupt this. You could have heard a pin drop. Is there life on
mars? The guitar at the end is greeted with yells of approval. Bowie
hit every note.
The crowd is now reacting to the beat of drums. We all know this
beat so well. "Pushing through the market square." A wave of cheers. Bowie starts acting out the song. We shut up. He looks so serious. The fun is gone it seems. The return of the Thin White Duke. He leans against the microphone stand looking pensive. At the end he buries his head in his hands. The crowd is rather quiet as the drums fade. The mood around here is pretty somber now. What a ride.
As the opening of Panic In Detroit slices through the air Bowie
gyrates. Ow Ooooooh. Ow Ooooo. We all feel better now. This song
should be put on every alarm clock. The vocal parts are over too
soon. Bowie is gone. The band plays on. There is a long drum solo by Dennis Davis. He isn't the best but he's been perfect tonight. The guitars join in. They go at breakneck speed then brake for some runs by Kaye. Talent without question. The song just stops. Wow!
The house lights come up but it still looks black and white. Will we
ever see colour again. "Bon jour. It's so nice to be back
in.....here. I'd like to introduce you to the band" Laughs all
around. The starkness is lifted. You can feel the ease almost.
Changes. Bowie's voice really grinds and the music is gutsy. A
beautiful ending by Murray. It's better than Hunky Dory. My head
shakes. I yell out, "thank you." Who would have thought he'd play
Queen Bitch. One thing is that Bowie has really used his voice
tonight. He stretches it quite far here to almost a yodel. "Why
didn't I stay ay ay ay ay ay." Interesting.
What is there to say about Diamond Dogs. This place is alive, Bowie barks, "Bow, Wow, Wow. Woof. Woof." It ends.
"Goodnight" Bowie walks away.
No. He must have meant "intermission." This is far too short. I
don't get an answer. Everyone looks as stunned as me. Five minutes pass and Bowie re-appears with the band. They start playing something that I am unfamiliar with, it is a false start, the piece quickly transforms into Rebel Rebel. Energy, everyone's up.
Calamity's child.
Jean Genie. It starts slow and builds. And build it does. Bowie has
us ready to go now. As usual this song is extended and Bowie playswith it, "Tuesday, Wednesday Thursday, Friday Saturday, Sunday, Monday. Jean Genie. Poor little greenie." Overdrive is the
description of the pace that the band is playing to now. Bowie
leaves the stage. I really can't tell you how long Jean Genie went
on for after Bowie left the stage. I do know it was awhile and the
band was a joy to watch as they improvised quite a lot. The song
ends abruptly after a crescendo and the band walks off the stage.
The house lights came on about three minutes later. It was over. The audience sat in shocked silence. He just walked away without saying a thing. On an emotional level I will never experience anything even remotely as intense as this with regards to the arts. As we walked out towards the exit there was a strange silence. Very few people were talking a lot except for the odd, "Did you see that?" or " I don't believe it." As I walked I tried to express with words what I just saw over the past two hours because something in me had "changed." What, I don't know and probably never will. For those who pass me off as a "worshiper" please hold your judgment. Any regular on alt.bowie is well aware of my "opinions" concerning Mr. Jones and will be rather quick to correct a terribly inaccurate assessment. Many others that I have spoken to who saw this tour share the same experience.
I wrote this just in case any of you had an interest in Station To
Station. I consider that album to be the "perfect" Bowie album. Not
one bad song and not one mistake. I still listen to it once a day
and have done so for the past twenty four years. I have seen every
tour since 74. None however, could equal this. It is a shame that so
little exists to document this year, or the Thin White Duke for that
matter. The Vancouver tape, although excellent, does not convey the ambiance of the performance or the enigma of Bowie.
For those who wish to know I hope this post has conveyed a little
insight. Please feel free to email me. For those who saw this tour,
I apologize for not being able to put it into words. But, you
already know. Don't you?

""I don't begrudge any artist for finding an audience"
- David Bowie abt. 1987

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