This is the album that melded rock theatrics with artsy pretension and melted down all of the gender boundaries previously seen in rock ‘n’ roll. Future prophecy, Orwellian dread, Burroughsian mutation and damn good make up all melt together to take us on a Vaudevillian journey to well…now.

Often overlooked in the wake of Ziggy, Diamond Dogs still stands up as a bitchin’ rebel rousing deliciously dirty sodomite of an album. Put on that dress, make your face a mess and glitter stomp till fleas the size of rats put you out of your misery.

You gotta have this in your life.