I like Gary Numan. I like how he just gets on with it as fickle consumer taste comes and goes. I like it when the synthesiser goes 'bee-boo.' I like how his style evolves within a recognisable frame, even if the intimidating length of the discography means I've never explored too far.
Oh dear, it sounds like someone needs to make a pedantic list. Here are my The Top 24 Gary Numan Studio Albums then.
Cars key:
Tubeway Army
Gary Numan
Collaboration
24. Machine + Soul (1992)
The end of the road for Gary's extended '80s rut, this is a more upbeat and superlatively soulless version of the same old shit. Whether it's objectively his worst, we're influenced by Word of God disowning it, or I've just been ground down by a prolific decade's worth of bad albums, this feels right at the bottom of the barrel. Some of the stock synthesiser sounds are familiar from better bands and children's TV themes of the time. He really didn't give a shit with this one.
23. Metal Rhythm (1988)
Just when he seemed to be on the right track, Gary crawls back to a record company and starts compromising again. This involves adding a mind-numbing beat through the whole album and sacrificing what's left of his identity by going full David Bowie impression, when the "backing" vocals aren't taking the lead anyway. I can't rate these accurately any more, most of the '80s stuff has been indistinguishable, with little to reward the patient archaeologist. This far down, it doesn't really matter.
22. I, Assassin (1982)
Innovation gives way to appropriation as Gary Numan plays around with American things, conspicuously reenacting David Bowie's '70s slump and letting his identity fade more with each release. The imagery teases Blade Runner-style future noir, but the keyboards are relegated to repetitive flourishes now, though the attempted atmosphere's more synthetic than ever. The only stand-out performance is Pino Palladino's fretless bass; just the thing for a spot of air bass in the static home.
21. Warriors (1983)
That fretless bass isn't going anywhere, even with a revolving door of bassists, but steamy sax takes the lead this time as backing singers and an expanding roster of musicians and studio personnel bury Gary ever deeper in the mix. This decline in the artist's stature is expressed symbolically in the diminishing album covers. Seemingly over his jazz and funk phases, he's content to surf the generic New Wave this time, without making a significant splash.
20. The Fury (1985)
Half-way through the most prolific decade, sitting through and comparing similarly mediocre albums has entered chore territory, but he keeps mixing things up ever so slightly to help me out. This time, that involves cutting back on the rock instruments that had only just become dominant again, losing any semblance of spaciness and going full funk. I don't know if the album cover's ironically crap, the man's an enigma.
19. Automatic (with Bill Sharpe) (1989)
When your lightweight, low-effort collaboration side project is a more enjoyable listen than your own music that you're already compromising in pursuit of mass approval, you should probably rethink your strategy. Shakatak's Bill Sharpe wrote the bland disco synthpop, Gary wrote his lyrics. This seems to be the most obscure album in the discography, scattered incomplete over YouTube, but it's less annoying than some of the "proper" albums, whether you enjoy '80s kitsch sincerely or ironically, or both.
18. Outland (1991)
The ominous spoken intro and sampled sci-fi dialogue promise a pretentious concept album (goodie!), but then it's back to the disco where no one's dancing to continue alienating by blandness rather than artistic integrity. It's the most sci-fi he's been since Berserker, so it's a shame the music and tone don't match the lyrics in any way. It's disappointing when you learn that most Gary Numan doesn't sound like Gary Numan, though by this point it's those early electronic successes that are the weird outliers.
17. Dance (1981)
An interesting though hugely flawed album, its highlights can be hard to spot through the cloud of career decline hanging over it. It's not surprising that after five albums in four years you'd be a bit burnt out, and I appreciate the reckless artistry of going for strange and off-putting rather than churning out The Pleasure Principle II. The minimalist atmosphere of the gratuitously long songs made for nice background music, but there's nothing here I need to return to.
16. The Plan (1978/1984)
The contractually-obligated publishing of Tubeway Army's surprisingly polished demos was nice for Numanoids to have, but releasing a spunky throwback only emphasised Gary's contemporary decline. Since he'd decided he was done with The Man and ditched the record label, maybe that wasn't an accident. He hadn't had the chance to muck around with the studio synthesiser yet on these early tracks, so they're of limited interest to fans of futuristic alien music.
15. Strange Charm (1986)
We're getting somewhere, with some darker textures, industrial teasing and Gary dressed as Terminator Roy Batty, but that's ultimately deceptive, since we can't shake off the plastic funk.
It's the first album since Telekon that's had any songs I particularly care about hearing again, so hopefully things are looking up.
14. Splinter (Songs from a Broken Mind) (2013)
Gary continues to expose his sensitive side with ballads, while keeping the early-2000s Nine Inch Nails sound alive since Trent Reznor did a Gary Numan. This might even be one of the better ones, but I've been listening to Gary Numan all weekend and this is getting as samey as the '80s stuff did. He doesn't like to repeat his early electronic successes that everyone likes, but he's happy to keep doing Pure again?
13. Dead Son Rising (2011)
In the decade of retro revival, music buyers would have been more receptive to Gary's '80s stylings than they were in the '80s, but instead he walked ever deeper into the darkness. It's good stuff, but too unremittingly bleak to ever really want to sit through again. There hasn't been an excess of these industrial albums, but after fifteen virtual years, I'm starting to get real-time fatigue vicariously. This has the sense of closure about it, or maybe I just want to top myself.
12. Tubeway Army (1978)
Not a bad debut, but a bit of a false start and an outlier in the discography with its post-punk energy. Although I'm aware that I'm saying that before I know how outlandish things are going to get.
Like most people, I was listening retrospectively and grasping at any idiosyncratic similarities to the next album, from the sci-fi lyrics to the sparing synth, but the differences are more pronounced.
11. Exile (1997)
Skipping over the bad stuff to '90s alt-rock Gary Numan, his reinvention seemed at first like a desperate bid for relevance, but now that I've endured the continuity, I appreciate this era more. This isn't the most engaging gothic/industrial album out there, but like Bowie's drum and bass album, it's aimed at the older crowd rather than trying to get down with the fellow kids. Though the heretical lyrics still come off like he's trying to get in on the Marilyn Manson action, and the Star Trek font is just strange.
10. Berserker (1984)
Liberated from record company shackles, Gary Numan's first album on his own label is... not a whole lot different to what he'd been doing for the last few, but more focused and amalgamating the best of what worked. And look, his face is all big and silly again; he likes what he's doing. Not much really stands out, but it's a pleasant trip. The edging towards industrial rock made me crave something harder, but that's a long way off, so for now I'll embrace the space funk.
9. Pure (2000)
The previous album was a generic take on '90s goth rock, but here the NIN / Manson imitation is clear, especially in 'Rip' which I'd forgotten I knew from back when the video was in circulation. If he was some random copycat act it'd be embarrassing, but getting to hear Numan's influence feeding back on itself via those he inspired is interesting enough to excuse it. A bit loud for me these days, though. This music's for the kids and reinvented dad rockers. Not that I was really interested at the time either.
8. Savage (Songs from a Broken World) (2017)
Splinter would have made a bleak epilogue, but this pessimistic concept album paradoxically leaves things on a more hopeful note. We've gone all the way back to sci-fi, which obviously does it for me more than personal anguish, and this humbly epic cross-cultural fusion feels more creative than his customary borrowing... though it could just be that I don't know who he's aping this time.
7. The Pleasure Principle (1979)
I got more out of these warbling synth soundscapes when listening actively rather than letting it play as uneventful background music, but it still leaves me cold. For such a lauded classic, it doesn't seem to be doing anything Kraftwerk didn't, doesn't reach the soaring heights of 'Telstar' from seventeen years earlier and doesn't have the atmosphere of Vangelis, Tangerine Dream & co. As fun as the farty synth grooves are, I think it could do with some guitar.
6. The Radial Pair: Video Soundtrack (1994)
This major landmark in the discography is easy to overlook, being a fan club exclusive soundtrack to a video that even fewer people saw. Jettisoning all the excess baggage to go strictly solo (alright, someone else is credited for the photography), most of these dark and dreamy instrumentals would be reworked for Sacrifice, while others were content to sit unnoticed on his best release in fourteen years.
5. Human (with Michael R. Smith) (1995)
The second instrumental soundtrack release in as many years, this time it isn't rough sketches waiting for definitive vocal versions, but a prolific collection of short, focused ideas that benefits from the fresh blood and uncharacteristic instrumentation of a collaborator. It's a shame the contemporary Outland didn't take more cues from this project, or it could've been among his best. I'll never bother watching the film, the soundtrack will do just fine for retro horror reading.
4. Jagged (2006)
Dialling back the nu-metal aggression of Pure while upping the heaviness, this is my pick of the metal albums, even if it may be the hardest to recall individual songs from. The brooding atmosphere sees it through, helped by haunting samples.
It's the worthiest successor to Sacrifice yet, and if that's going to require another long game of disillusionment and rebirth, I'll make do.
3. Telekon (1980)
Man meets machine as organic instruments and personal themes return in the deeper, darker, richer follow-up to The Pleasure Principle, though less popular since it doesn't translate to midi ringtones so well, I guess. It's odd that Gary Numan's generally considered to be an '80s' artist when this is the only album from that decade that was really worthwhile or successful. The album ending with a warm violin tribute to the cold opener is a treat for people who enjoy reading too much into things.
2. Sacrifice (1994)
This is the comparatively obscure gem that persuaded me to keep digging, though it's seemingly better known for its historical status as a game changer – as Gary stopped trying to synthesise superficial chart success and embraced the shadows – than for appreciation of the mellow dirges themselves. Having obliviously boogied his way through the heyday of gothic rock, he contributed this late classic before seeing what the '90s kids were up to. I've only heard the supersized Extended version, my time isn't so precious that I need to settle for diet mixes.
1. Replicas (1979)
It only took me about sixteen years from hearing 'Are "Friends" Electric?', and wondering if there were more songs in the world like it, to realise it might be worth checking out where it came from. With its retrofuturistic keyboard and sci-fi themes, this gave me the nostalgic vibe of Fear Factory albums without the bloody noise (he'll get there eventually). The first one I heard in full, there's no pressure on the next four decades of releases to beat this dark synthpop classic, but I'll still hold out hope for some obscure 2000s game soundtrack or something.
Tubeway Army
Gary Numan
Collaboration
The end of the road for Gary's extended '80s rut, this is a more upbeat and superlatively soulless version of the same old shit. Whether it's objectively his worst, we're influenced by Word of God disowning it, or I've just been ground down by a prolific decade's worth of bad albums, this feels right at the bottom of the barrel. Some of the stock synthesiser sounds are familiar from better bands and children's TV themes of the time. He really didn't give a shit with this one.
Just when he seemed to be on the right track, Gary crawls back to a record company and starts compromising again. This involves adding a mind-numbing beat through the whole album and sacrificing what's left of his identity by going full David Bowie impression, when the "backing" vocals aren't taking the lead anyway. I can't rate these accurately any more, most of the '80s stuff has been indistinguishable, with little to reward the patient archaeologist. This far down, it doesn't really matter.
Innovation gives way to appropriation as Gary Numan plays around with American things, conspicuously reenacting David Bowie's '70s slump and letting his identity fade more with each release. The imagery teases Blade Runner-style future noir, but the keyboards are relegated to repetitive flourishes now, though the attempted atmosphere's more synthetic than ever. The only stand-out performance is Pino Palladino's fretless bass; just the thing for a spot of air bass in the static home.
That fretless bass isn't going anywhere, even with a revolving door of bassists, but steamy sax takes the lead this time as backing singers and an expanding roster of musicians and studio personnel bury Gary ever deeper in the mix. This decline in the artist's stature is expressed symbolically in the diminishing album covers. Seemingly over his jazz and funk phases, he's content to surf the generic New Wave this time, without making a significant splash.
Half-way through the most prolific decade, sitting through and comparing similarly mediocre albums has entered chore territory, but he keeps mixing things up ever so slightly to help me out. This time, that involves cutting back on the rock instruments that had only just become dominant again, losing any semblance of spaciness and going full funk. I don't know if the album cover's ironically crap, the man's an enigma.
When your lightweight, low-effort collaboration side project is a more enjoyable listen than your own music that you're already compromising in pursuit of mass approval, you should probably rethink your strategy. Shakatak's Bill Sharpe wrote the bland disco synthpop, Gary wrote his lyrics. This seems to be the most obscure album in the discography, scattered incomplete over YouTube, but it's less annoying than some of the "proper" albums, whether you enjoy '80s kitsch sincerely or ironically, or both.
The ominous spoken intro and sampled sci-fi dialogue promise a pretentious concept album (goodie!), but then it's back to the disco where no one's dancing to continue alienating by blandness rather than artistic integrity. It's the most sci-fi he's been since Berserker, so it's a shame the music and tone don't match the lyrics in any way. It's disappointing when you learn that most Gary Numan doesn't sound like Gary Numan, though by this point it's those early electronic successes that are the weird outliers.
An interesting though hugely flawed album, its highlights can be hard to spot through the cloud of career decline hanging over it. It's not surprising that after five albums in four years you'd be a bit burnt out, and I appreciate the reckless artistry of going for strange and off-putting rather than churning out The Pleasure Principle II. The minimalist atmosphere of the gratuitously long songs made for nice background music, but there's nothing here I need to return to.
The contractually-obligated publishing of Tubeway Army's surprisingly polished demos was nice for Numanoids to have, but releasing a spunky throwback only emphasised Gary's contemporary decline. Since he'd decided he was done with The Man and ditched the record label, maybe that wasn't an accident. He hadn't had the chance to muck around with the studio synthesiser yet on these early tracks, so they're of limited interest to fans of futuristic alien music.
We're getting somewhere, with some darker textures, industrial teasing and Gary dressed as Terminator Roy Batty, but that's ultimately deceptive, since we can't shake off the plastic funk.
It's the first album since Telekon that's had any songs I particularly care about hearing again, so hopefully things are looking up.
Gary continues to expose his sensitive side with ballads, while keeping the early-2000s Nine Inch Nails sound alive since Trent Reznor did a Gary Numan. This might even be one of the better ones, but I've been listening to Gary Numan all weekend and this is getting as samey as the '80s stuff did. He doesn't like to repeat his early electronic successes that everyone likes, but he's happy to keep doing Pure again?
In the decade of retro revival, music buyers would have been more receptive to Gary's '80s stylings than they were in the '80s, but instead he walked ever deeper into the darkness. It's good stuff, but too unremittingly bleak to ever really want to sit through again. There hasn't been an excess of these industrial albums, but after fifteen virtual years, I'm starting to get real-time fatigue vicariously. This has the sense of closure about it, or maybe I just want to top myself.
Not a bad debut, but a bit of a false start and an outlier in the discography with its post-punk energy. Although I'm aware that I'm saying that before I know how outlandish things are going to get.
Like most people, I was listening retrospectively and grasping at any idiosyncratic similarities to the next album, from the sci-fi lyrics to the sparing synth, but the differences are more pronounced.
Skipping over the bad stuff to '90s alt-rock Gary Numan, his reinvention seemed at first like a desperate bid for relevance, but now that I've endured the continuity, I appreciate this era more. This isn't the most engaging gothic/industrial album out there, but like Bowie's drum and bass album, it's aimed at the older crowd rather than trying to get down with the fellow kids. Though the heretical lyrics still come off like he's trying to get in on the Marilyn Manson action, and the Star Trek font is just strange.
Liberated from record company shackles, Gary Numan's first album on his own label is... not a whole lot different to what he'd been doing for the last few, but more focused and amalgamating the best of what worked. And look, his face is all big and silly again; he likes what he's doing. Not much really stands out, but it's a pleasant trip. The edging towards industrial rock made me crave something harder, but that's a long way off, so for now I'll embrace the space funk.
The previous album was a generic take on '90s goth rock, but here the NIN / Manson imitation is clear, especially in 'Rip' which I'd forgotten I knew from back when the video was in circulation. If he was some random copycat act it'd be embarrassing, but getting to hear Numan's influence feeding back on itself via those he inspired is interesting enough to excuse it. A bit loud for me these days, though. This music's for the kids and reinvented dad rockers. Not that I was really interested at the time either.
Splinter would have made a bleak epilogue, but this pessimistic concept album paradoxically leaves things on a more hopeful note. We've gone all the way back to sci-fi, which obviously does it for me more than personal anguish, and this humbly epic cross-cultural fusion feels more creative than his customary borrowing... though it could just be that I don't know who he's aping this time.
I got more out of these warbling synth soundscapes when listening actively rather than letting it play as uneventful background music, but it still leaves me cold. For such a lauded classic, it doesn't seem to be doing anything Kraftwerk didn't, doesn't reach the soaring heights of 'Telstar' from seventeen years earlier and doesn't have the atmosphere of Vangelis, Tangerine Dream & co. As fun as the farty synth grooves are, I think it could do with some guitar.
This major landmark in the discography is easy to overlook, being a fan club exclusive soundtrack to a video that even fewer people saw. Jettisoning all the excess baggage to go strictly solo (alright, someone else is credited for the photography), most of these dark and dreamy instrumentals would be reworked for Sacrifice, while others were content to sit unnoticed on his best release in fourteen years.
The second instrumental soundtrack release in as many years, this time it isn't rough sketches waiting for definitive vocal versions, but a prolific collection of short, focused ideas that benefits from the fresh blood and uncharacteristic instrumentation of a collaborator. It's a shame the contemporary Outland didn't take more cues from this project, or it could've been among his best. I'll never bother watching the film, the soundtrack will do just fine for retro horror reading.
Dialling back the nu-metal aggression of Pure while upping the heaviness, this is my pick of the metal albums, even if it may be the hardest to recall individual songs from. The brooding atmosphere sees it through, helped by haunting samples.
It's the worthiest successor to Sacrifice yet, and if that's going to require another long game of disillusionment and rebirth, I'll make do.
Man meets machine as organic instruments and personal themes return in the deeper, darker, richer follow-up to The Pleasure Principle, though less popular since it doesn't translate to midi ringtones so well, I guess. It's odd that Gary Numan's generally considered to be an '80s' artist when this is the only album from that decade that was really worthwhile or successful. The album ending with a warm violin tribute to the cold opener is a treat for people who enjoy reading too much into things.
This is the comparatively obscure gem that persuaded me to keep digging, though it's seemingly better known for its historical status as a game changer – as Gary stopped trying to synthesise superficial chart success and embraced the shadows – than for appreciation of the mellow dirges themselves. Having obliviously boogied his way through the heyday of gothic rock, he contributed this late classic before seeing what the '90s kids were up to. I've only heard the supersized Extended version, my time isn't so precious that I need to settle for diet mixes.
It only took me about sixteen years from hearing 'Are "Friends" Electric?', and wondering if there were more songs in the world like it, to realise it might be worth checking out where it came from. With its retrofuturistic keyboard and sci-fi themes, this gave me the nostalgic vibe of Fear Factory albums without the bloody noise (he'll get there eventually). The first one I heard in full, there's no pressure on the next four decades of releases to beat this dark synthpop classic, but I'll still hold out hope for some obscure 2000s game soundtrack or something.
