Bowie: A Biography - JFK247

etween the Diamond Dogs and Philly Dogs tours,
while holed up in the Sherry-Netherland Hotel in
Manhattan, Bowie would often venture up to Harlem
to study R & B shows and gape at the opulent,
post–Super Fly fashion statements that the blacks
and Puerto Ricans on the sidewalk and in the lobby
were making: zoot suits, wide-brim hats, white shoes
and fur trim. The next time he stepped onto a concert
stage, he would be dressed in Harlem street-hustler
garb. His escort during these trips was a guitar
virtuoso five years his junior from the Bronx named
Carlos Alomar. They’d met while Bowie and Tony
Visconti were mixing Diamond Dogs in New York
and bonded over music. Alomar, then working as a
studio musician for RCA, told Bowie, in true warm
but uncensored New Yorker style, that he was too
skinny and took him up to the Bronx to meet his wife
and mother and eat a home-cooked meal. A
friendship and creative collaboration that would span
the better part of the next two decades was begun.
While at the Sherry-Netherland, Alomar was
fascinated by a gigantic, black theatrical trunk that
never seemed to be unpacked. When he asked what
was inside, Bowie proudly opened it to display
dozens of vintage records.
“Imagine my surprise when he opened it to show
me his collection of R & B and jazz recordings, from
old Delta blues to jazz,” Alomar says. “He had them
all. David was infused with soul music well before his
sessions in Philadelphia. It is no secret that the
British idolized American black music and studied it