A mix of funk and humor, gospel and jazz—Bowie swinging hard through doo wop, James Brown, and Sun Ra.
The Great Pretender hits you immediately with Lester Bowie's trumpet cutting through a thick groove. Hamiet Bluiett on baritone sax circles underneath, funky and grounded, while Donald Smith keeps the keyboard warm and soulful. Fred Williams holds down the bass line with steady pocket, and Phillip Wilson drives the whole thing forward on drums and percussion. This is Bowie working in a register that feels closer to Earth than his more experimental work—still inventive, still weird, but rooted in something you can feel in your chest. The album doesn't try to be mysterious. It's openly pulling from gospel testifying, early doo wop melodies, James Brown's groove DNA, even Dizzy Gillespie's playfulness and Sun Ra's cosmic reach. Bowie throws these references together without apology, mixing them into something that sounds like nobody else quite managed at the time.
This comes roughly midway through Bowie's career as a leader. He'd already made sharper, more experimental records—The 5th Power remains his strongest work—but The Great Pretender doesn't chase that same intensity. Instead it leans into humor and accessibility without sacrificing musicianship. AllMusic reviewer Michael G. Nastos called it "utterly enjoyable creative jazz, worthy of a space in your collection," and that's the right note. It's not a masterpiece, but it's genuine and fun in a way that mattered more to Bowie at this point than showing off.
If you've never heard Bowie's trumpet work, this won't be your best entry point—start with The 5th Power (1978) first. But if you know his style and want something that swings hard, that plays gospel against funk without flinching, this delivers exactly that.