@Marie Bakhos

Discover new music from artists we think you'll like. Refreshed every Friday.

For all the times David Bowie changed his getup—the glam alien of Ziggy Stardust, the moody existentialist of the late ’70s, the pop sophisticate of the ’80s, and so on—he was a remarkably consistent barometer of where the culture was headed, from gender fluidity to the hybridization of rock and electronic music. The London native first released music under his given name, David Jones, before donning the Bowie alias and finally conveying his dreamy sense of dislocation with 1969’s “Space Oddity.” Themes of alienation came naturally to him, as heard on several uncanny singles he released between 1972 and ’73: “Changes,” “Starman,” and “Life on Mars?” Bowie’s visual and sonic identity continued to rapidly morph after that, from the punky rabble-rouser of 1974’s “Rebel Rebel” to the Philly-soul Svengali of “Young Americans” the following year. Even the stubborn experimentation of his “Berlin Trilogy” of albums yielded 1977’s saturated future-standard ““Heroes”,” before 1981’s Queen teamup “Under Pressure” ushered in a new decade with breathless urgency. It also foreshadowed the consummate collaborator who would team up with everyone from Nile Rodgers (1983’s “Let’s Dance”) and Mick Jagger (1985’s “Dancing in the Street”) to Pet Shop Boys (1996’s “Hallo Spaceboy”), and Brian Eno (1997’s “I’m Afraid of Americans”). Whether holding court over drum ’n’ bass and industrial backdrops or enveloping himself in diffuse art-rock (2013’s “Where Are We Now?”) and brooding jazz (2015’s “Lazarus”), Bowie always knew to never stand still as a creative entity. That lends his half-century songbook a lingering quality of flux, as if it’s still mutating before our eyes.

Joan Armatrading's sweet and passionate songs are deceptively sharp. A lyricist of great insight, she made her name with late-'70s power-pop songs like “Me Myself I” and “Drop the Pilot,” which are full of clear-eyed, unromantic sentiment. But boisterous hits like “Down to Zero,” which mixes Dylan-style pop-folk with jazz and soul, stand in contrast to the yearning intrigue of scathing ballads such as “The Weakness In Me.” Her swooning masterpiece, “Love And Affection,” is a rolling smooch of a song: Jazzy and seductive, it sounds like she's trying to talk herself into the very idea of romance.

Born Georgios Panayiotou in London in 1963 to a Greek Cypriot restaurateur and an English dancer, George Michael grew up obsessed with David Bowie and Elton John, artists who blended camp and theatricality with the emotional candidness of a singer-songwriter. He founded Wham! with Andrew Ridgeley in his late teens, becoming one of the most recognized faces in pop while releasing megahits like 1984’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go,” “Everything She Wants,” and the modern holiday classic “Last Christmas.” As a solo artist, Michael could be playful but earnest, erotic but wholesome, a soul singer whose raw sexuality never overwhelmed the sweetness of his spirit. 1987’s <i>Faith</i> was a synthesis of ’70s soul (“Father Figure”) and contemporary dance music (“I Want Your Sex, Pts. 1 & 2”) that became the first album by a white solo artist to top the R&B chart. He followed it with 1990’s <i>Listen Without Prejudice Vol. 1</i>, which featured “Freedom! '90,” his everlasting anthem of self-determination.

Formed in the late '50s by brothers Barry, Robin, and Maurice Gibb, the Bee Gees became one of the most enduring and influential musical acts in history. Amassing critical and commercial success—they've sold over 220 million albums worldwide—they were instrumental in the popularization of disco in the '70s. Everyone from Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney to Ringo Starr and Beyoncé count them as influences. Their soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever remains one of the best selling albums of all time, and is largely responsible for prolonging the disco craze.

Like his indelible “Rocket Man,” Elton John's music occupies the upper echelon of the rock ‘n' roll stratosphere. Snapping his singer/songwriter tethers early on, John soared to international superstardom beginning with 1970's “Your Song.” The piano master's hits are as stylistically ambitious as his fashion sense, from the unhinged ‘50s doo-wop swing of “Crocodile Rock” to the operatic sweep of “Tiny Dancer” to the cocksure groove of “Bennie and the Jets.” And John's never left the public eye, releasing albums into the ‘10s and reinventing himself as a mature pop icon and LGBT advocate.