Singing David Bowie

1 . Depeche Mode – Heroes

Depeche Mode’s rendition of David Bowie’s “Heroes” is less a reinvention and more a respectful tip of the hat, performed during their 2017-2018 Global Spirit tour and captured as part of their rehearsals in 2016.

While the original track by Bowie exudes anthemic grandeur with its soaring guitars and impassioned vocals, Depeche Mode’s tribute leans into their hallmark electropop aesthetic, stripping the song down to a minimalistic foundation driven by synthetic textures and Dave Gahan’s distinct, brooding voice.

The choice to cover “Heroes” was more than just a setlist addition; it was a heartfelt homage to an artist who had profoundly shaped the band’s sonic compass. Recorded and filmed at New York’s Highline Stages, their version carries a moodier, almost spectral quality, paying homage without overshadowing the source material.

Interestingly, this wasn’t an official studio release, finding its inclusion only in their ‘MODE’ box set rather than charting conventional single territory. It seems as much a personal moment for the band as it was for their audience.

Gahan’s sincerity in these performances acts as the emotional anchor, making this cover feel less performative and more intimate—a rare quality in an era where tributes often lean into grandiose gestures. Whether its sparse production choice resonates depends heavily on listeners’ affection for artistic restraint and the original’s untouchable status.

More by the same : RVM [ Radio.Video.Music ]

2 . Beck – Sound And Vision

Beck’s rendition of David Bowie’s “Sound and Vision” is less a cover, more a spectacle teetering between inspired absurdity and ingenious reinterpretation.

Performed live in 2013 with a staggering 170-piece orchestra under the baton of his father, David Campbell, Beck turned Bowie’s introspective experimental rock track into an immersive, orchestral experience tailor-made for a car commercial.

The USC marching band rubbed shoulders with a gospel choir, gamelan players, and even a yodeler—all crammed into a circular stage, capturing the chaos in meticulous 360-degree sound and video (though, ironically, the video has now vanished from the digital ether).

Conceptually, it mirrored the alienation Bowie often channeled but ramped up the scale to something nearly operatic, albeit with a wink—Beck himself called the performance “extravagant and maybe ridiculous.”

It didn’t chart, wasn’t a genre-shifting moment, and existed mainly as a well-funded experiment, but it’s hard not to appreciate the audacity behind its creation.

At a stretch, it’s almost fitting that something born from solitude and introspection evolved into a sprawling behemoth ultimately designed to sell cars—the contradiction feels very Beck, and perhaps even Bowie.

More by the same : RVM [ Radio.Video.Music ]

3 . Mariana Peregrina – Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide (w/ Javier Othon)

Mariana Peregrina and Javier Othon’s 2016 rendition of David Bowie’s *Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide* is a curious case of homage and intimacy, drenched in raw emotion and stripped of the original’s theatrical grandeur.

Uploaded to YouTube rather than radio waves or flashy streaming platforms, the performance feels less like a product and more like a heartfelt letter to Bowie himself—one etched with passion but lacking a bit in polish.

Musically, the duo stays loyal to the 1972 original, albeit with pared-down execution that leans heavily on Peregrina’s fervent delivery and Othon’s accompaniment. There’s no glitter nor swagger here, just the quivering vulnerability of artists grappling with a song as transformative as Bowie’s own mythos.

The cover doesn’t reach for reinvention, but there’s beauty in its straightforwardness. Peregrina channels the desperation embedded in the lyrics, particularly when she belts the line, “Oh no, love, you’re not alone,” though with less flamboyant zeal than Bowie’s larger-than-life cry for solidarity.

Thematically, the performance hones in on the song’s timeless motif of personal turmoil and existential crisis, but with less luxurious melancholy and more quiet yearning. It’s less the final act of a life-size rock opera and more the rehearsal in a dimly lit room.

Now, the absence of production credits or a specified album leads one to question how intentional the raw nature of this performance was—serendipity or necessity? These gaps in details are as oddly enigmatic as the stripped-down setting of the video itself.

Perhaps the charm lies in its minor imperfections. Or maybe it’s that the song—so quintessentially Bowie—demonstrates how even a lo-fi reinterpretation can illuminate its unshakeable poignancy. Bowie’s shadow looms large here, a celestial guide reminding us all that the “suicide” of self-doubt can also sit hand-in-hand with resilience.

For fans seeking spectacle, this won’t compete. But for those willing to embrace the song’s quieter echoes, Peregrina and Othon produce a candle flame in a hurricane, flickering but refusing to go out. It may not shout, but in its restraint, it whispers something worth hearing.

More by the same : YouTube

4 . Emel Mathlouthi – The Man Who Sold The World

Emel Mathlouthi’s interpretation of “The Man Who Sold The World” is anything but a straightforward cover.

Originally brought to life by David Bowie, her version strips away the glam rock shimmer, replacing it with a haunting atmosphere that feels deeply introspective.

Released in 2020 under PIAS, it’s part of the “Holm/The Man Who Sold The World” album, where she reimagines Bowie’s alienation with her signature ethereal melancholy.

The piano-driven arrangement is delicate and restrained, creating space for her haunting voice to linger in the shadows of each note.

While Bowie’s original embraced theatricality, Mathlouthi’s version leans into vulnerability, reframing the narrative of betrayal and identity through a more intimate lens.

This wasn’t her first encounter with the song; she also performed it live at the 2015 Nobel Peace Prize Concert in Oslo, where she brought her Tunisian heritage and avant-garde perspective to the fore.

That performance had an understated power, emphasizing the universality of the song’s themes while adding a global dimension to its legacy.

Mathlouthi’s interpretation may not aim for Bowie’s iconic mystique, but it offers a reflective, contemporary interpretation worth appreciating on its own terms.

More by the same : Official Site

5 . Anna Calvi – Lazarus

Anna Calvi’s rendition of “Lazarus,” performed in the hauntingly grand Basilique Saint-Denis in 2018, feels less like a cover and more like an echo from a parallel universe.

Stripped from its original Bowie-esque extraterrestrial despair, Calvi’s take veers closer to raw earthbound pain, grounding the song in her signature art-rock grit.

With no studio polish to lean on, this live performance thrives on atmosphere—both the Byzantine acoustics of the venue and Calvi’s razor-edged guitar work lend a spectral quality to Bowie’s swansong.

The decision to perform this song alongside collaborations like Soap&Skin’s “Blackstar” marks the evening as less of a tribute and more of an immersive séance.

It’s a shame we lack a crisp studio version, but in a way, the absence keeps this rendition ephemeral, existing firmly within the cathedral walls where it first resonated.

In 2023, her newer work from “Taken from Cry” leans inward—less theatrical, more introspective, yet equally intense.

Performed at Amsterdam’s Paradiso, the track embraces transformation not in a polished coming-of-age narrative but with jagged edges intact.

The lack of an official video leaves one reliant on live moments to connect with the song’s art-rock sensibilities, but maybe that’s a feature rather than a bug.

The audience’s intimacy with this flawed, feral sound points to an artist unapologetically untangling herself in real-time.

From embodying Bowie’s ethos to navigating her own evolution, Calvi resists easy categorization, ensuring her performances resonate long after the music fades.

More by the same : Official Site

6 . Scott Weiland – The Jean Genie (w/ The Wildabouts)

Scott Weiland’s 2015 rendition of “The Jean Genie” with The Wildabouts is less a bold reinterpretation and more a love letter to David Bowie’s original glam rock grit.

The single, released outside the confines of a full studio album, feels like a fleeting snapshot of admiration rather than a calculated artistic statement, making it all the more intriguing.

Weiland’s performance injects his signature vocal rasp, giving Bowie’s swagger a grungy edge that’s unmistakably his own while still hewing closely to the original’s rock DNA.

The cover itself doesn’t aim to dethrone the classic but instead revels in its raw energy, embracing the blues-inflected riffs and urban sleaze that defined Bowie’s creation in the ’70s.

While lacking the polish or experimental flair that might be expected in a modern reimagining, it thrives on its unvarnished homage, as if channeling a dusty jukebox in a dim-lit dive bar.

Weiland, a well-documented Bowie disciple, makes no secret of his reverence; the choice to honor Bowie feels personal, almost like paying a public debt of inspiration.

The video performance, though not laden with theatrics or elaborate production, remains a straightforward snapshot of a rock artist tipping his proverbial hat to an icon.

It’s not groundbreaking, nor does it seek to be—it’s simply rock ‘n’ roll paying respect to glam, a fleeting but earnest intersection of two legendary careers.

More by the same : Official Site

7 . Cowboy Junkies – Five Years

The Cowboy Junkies’ take on David Bowie’s “Five Years” feels like a slow-burning meditation rather than a straightforward covers effort.

Released in 2022 as part of their *Songs of the Recollection* album, the track channels the band’s characteristic alt-country whisper, transforming Bowie’s theatrical apocalyptic vision into something eerily contemplative.

The original’s urgency is stripped back, replaced with an understated arrangement that leans into melancholic resignation, as though doom has already taken root.

It’s a clever nod to contemporary anxieties–climate collapse, disconnection, political fraying–without beating the listener over the head with message-driven theatrics.

As Bowie envisioned societal unraveling with wide-eyed panic, the Junkies seem to smirk knowingly, delivering the news in a subdued drawl, backed by atmospheric instrumentation that feels half rural, half cosmic.

Though it adds little in terms of reinterpretation, the subdued mood suits Cowboy Junkies, sustaining their moody folk-blues reputation.

Given its release alongside other tributes, the track is less a standalone statement and more a soft spotlight on Bowie, reimagined through their dusk-tinted lens of modern alt-country despair.

The accompanying video furthers the song’s somber texture, adding visuals that amplify its quiet sense of inevitability.

More by the same : Official Site

8 . Shearwater – Boys Keep Swinging

Shearwater’s take on *Boys Keep Swinging* pulls David Bowie’s 1979 masterpiece from its original glam-funk lineage and drapes it in their signature indie-rock cloak.

Released as a standalone single in 2019 via Bandcamp, the song swaps the cheeky strut of Bowie’s version for an atmospheric, simmering tension that departs radically from the playful irony of the original.

Shearwater’s frontman, Jonathan Meiburg, shapes the interpretation with a measured vocal approach, stripping away Bowie’s campy bravado in favor of something introspective yet unsettling.

The track taps into the themes of gender identity and societal expectations, retaining the biting commentary of the original while presenting it through a darker, more subdued sonic filter.

There’s no flash or pomp here—just a stark, haunting reimagination that trades in extravagant gestures for raw mood.

While Bowie’s take practically demands a raised eyebrow and a smirk, Shearwater’s version asks you to sit with its unease, offering a quieter but still sharp critique.

It’s less a rehash and more a reconstruction, leaning into Shearwater’s penchant for atmospheric soundscapes while still acknowledging the irreverent spirit of the source material.

As covers go, it’s not here to recreate Bowie’s swagger but to reinterpret the core idea, making it their own while tipping their hat to the brilliance of the original artists.

More by the same : Official Site

9 . Soviet Space Dogs – Under Pressure

“Under Pressure,” the seismic collaboration between Queen and David Bowie, stands as a rock cornerstone that captures the collective angst of existence while delivering an irresistible groove.

Recorded in Montreux, Switzerland, the track evolved organically out of an impromptu jam session—proof that artistic brilliance doesn’t always require a blueprint.

Its iconic bassline, laid down by Queen’s John Deacon, is a study in simplicity, the kind of riff that lodges itself in your brain and simply refuses to vacate.

Freddie Mercury and David Bowie’s vocal interplay is electric, as Mercury’s operatic style collides with Bowie’s cool detachment, producing a tension that mirrors the song’s thematic exploration of societal pressures.

The absence of the artists in the accompanying music video is conspicuous but strangely fitting, as the montage of stock footage—riots, explosions, and silent film clips—emphasizes chaos without veering into melodrama.

The beauty of “Under Pressure” lies in its contradictions: it’s both grandiose and intimate, melancholy yet hopeful, timeless while unmistakably a product of its 1981 genesis.

Meanwhile, its lyrical plea for kindness—”Why can’t we give love that one more chance?”—still resonates, proving that even in a world of cynicism, a pop song can deliver a sucker punch of sincerity.

While some critics find the track veering a little too close to melodrama, one can’t deny its enduring place as a musical milestone, its influence rippling through decades of artists who’ve sampled, covered, or simply admired it from afar.

More by the same : Official Site

10 . Seal – Quicksand

“Quicksand,” as listed under Seal’s 2007 album “System,” is a track that feels like a pocket of emotional turbulence wrapped in synthpop textures.

The song, co-crafted with producer Stuart Price, sits comfortably in the galaxy of late-2000s pop with its slick production and introspective tilt, though it lacks any significant chart splash.

Seal’s ability to balance his rich vocal timbre with the track’s polished, electronic backdrop gives it a sense of gravity, but its impact falters slightly due to its somewhat conventional structure.

Exploring themes tied to emotional endurance and personal reflection, the lyrics hint at inner struggles without tipping into complete confessionalism—a Seal hallmark that can either captivate or leave the listener wanting more depth.

While no official music video exists, the song made select appearances during Seal’s “System” tour in 2008, an era that saw him leaning heavily into electrified pop.

It’s a song that might navigate the listener’s playlist waters briefly but isn’t likely to anchor itself as an unforgettable experience.

More by the same : Official Site

11 . The Chip Shop Boys – Starman

The Chip Shop Boys’ 2016 rendition of “Starman” is more than a nostalgic nod to Bowie’s glam rock anthem; it’s a live studio effort that celebrates the enduring relevance of a song that once floated down from the Ziggy Stardust cosmos.

Performed during their 20th anniversary at the legendary Abbey Road Studios, this version trades in the campy theatricality of *Top of the Pops*-era Bowie for a more refined, strings-infused arrangement with the Apollo Strings in tow.

The original song—a late and almost accidental addition to 1972’s *The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars*—delivers a broadcast from an alien hoping to rescue humankind. In its DNA, it’s equal parts space-age optimism and sly rebellion, themes Bowie’s falsetto and glitter-dusted production made iconic.

While it’s unclear if The Chip Shop Boys’ take replicates or reimagines its glam essence, performing this at Abbey Road gives the whole affair a whiff of reverence that contrasts sharply with Bowie’s own cheeky subversion.

Unlike the original, which soared into living rooms and hearts via Bowie’s unforgettable *Top of the Pops* performance, this cover doesn’t claim chart ambitions or iconic moments. It sits instead as a commemorative snapshot for the band’s mid-life milestone, more tribute than transformation.

Ultimately, any attempt to touch “Starman” walks a tightrope between homage and mimicry. Whether The Chip Shop Boys tap into the alien magic or land closer to Earth largely depends on how they navigate Bowie’s unique blend of eccentric stardust and universal longing.

More by the same : Official Site

12 . The Last Shadow Puppets – Moonage Daydream

Amidst a tour heavy on orchestral flair and retro elegance, The Last Shadow Puppets’ live cover of David Bowie’s “Moonage Daydream” stood out as a poignant nod to a fallen icon.

Originally from Bowie’s iconic *The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars* (1972), the song’s glam rock roots were reimagined through the lens of indie and orchestral rock, trading the brash futurism of the original for a lush, cinematic treatment befitting the band’s theatrical tendencies.

Performed at notable festivals such as Glastonbury and Lollapalooza in 2016, there was no lack of grandeur in the presentation—string arrangements swelling alongside Alex Turner’s deliberate, sultry phrasing and Miles Kane’s guitar lines, both reverent yet unmistakably infused with their swaggering personality.

These renditions, while faithful, carried an air of calculated homage, perhaps too smooth to fully capture the chaotic magnetism of Ziggy-era Bowie. Still, there’s an undeniable charm in their blending of reverence and ego, traits that Bowie himself might have appreciated.

As the cameras captured the performances, available for replay on platforms like YouTube, the clips resonate as a bittersweet time capsule: 2016, marked by the loss of one of music’s most enigmatic trailblazers, saw a new generation of art-rock romantics keeping the stardust alive. It’s performative yet meaningful, a dichotomy as Bowie-esque as the song itself.

More by the same : Official Site