These lines from the opening song set the mood for The Next Day, Da- vid Bowie’s first album release in a long 10 years: “Here am I/ not quite dying/ my body left to rot in a hallow tree/ its branches throwing shadows/ on the gal- lows for me.â€
Not that Bowie sounds like he’s dying. The CD shows he is defi- nitely not. Neither is that famous body and beauti- ful face rotting. He is, in fact, in peak form and as is his wont, transform- ing again. What The Next Day has is the great Bowie at his most acerbic, sneering, powerful best after nearly 50 years in the enter- tainment business.
Born David Jones, 66 years ago, Bowie is a British musician, singer, songwriter, arranger and producer of over 30 albums and countless singles and many record-breaking concerts. He has done funk, psychedelia, soul, dance, electronica, adult contemporary, world and various incarnations of rock like punk, metal, hard, why he is even cred- ited with having invented glamrock. He has sold over 140 million records since his trail-blazing Space Oddity came out in 1969.
Bowie, who named himself after the American frontiersman Jim Bowie to avoid confusion with Monkee Davey Jones, is an actor of the stage, Elephant Man, television, Baal and the movies, Labyrinth, The Man Who Fell To Earth, Just A Gigolo, The Hunger, Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence and some of the most ab- sorbing music videos ever made.
He is a writer, painter, curator, fash- ion plate and model. At various times in his career, he had been Major Tom, Ziggy Stardust, Starman, The Thin White Duke, Diamond Dog, a goblin, a vampire, a gigolo and lots of other things. And by the way, he was already androgynous long before the late Mi- chael Jackson had probably even heard the word.
Married to the gorgeous Somali-born supermodel Iman for the past 20 years, he is certainly one of the most aurally and visually arresting performers ever seen in anything. He is also an acknowl- edged master of reinvention and inno- vation. Chameleon is the word usually used by the media to describe Bowie. But even something as all-encompassing as that comes across as an understate- ment in his case.
The heart attack he suffered during his Reality album tour in 2004 was what probably drove Bowie to take things easy. And that must be why we only heard about him sporadically these past years. But as it recently turned out, you cannot tie down a man as creative as he is to a life of ease. He had been working all along on a new album and The Next Day is the result of his forced vacation. The CD instantly made No. 1 in the US charts when it was released last March.
The Next Day is dark. What did you expect? It is Bowie. It has imaginative, compelling writing and is hugely adventurous. Again, that is Bowie. It has also made me guilty about having heaped praise on new rock acts whose intellectual grasp is only a frac- tion of what goes on in Bowie’s head. And he has taken all those and pumped them into his music. The Next Day is true Bowie in top form, the classic rocker re- discovering his peak and enticing listen- ers into enjoying the music while at the same time jolting them into harsh reality through his lyrics.
First cut, The Next Day is a big dance rocker about a fallen dictator. The blue- sy Dirty Boys is about running streets with punks. The Stars (Are Out Tonight) takes on the fate of celebrities who live and die for fans. Love Is Lost is about the death of innocence. Valentine’s Day is not about love day but about the massacre. I’d Rather Be High is trancelike psychede- lia about a soldier during war.
And the album goes on, wonder- fully layered melodies of various types play radio-friendly rhythms that mask Bowie’s intense poetry of a disillusioned soul. It is trickery of the first order but irresistible and quite fun to listen to.
The album continues with If You Can See Me, Boss Of Me, Dancing Out ln Space, How Does The Grass Grow?, You Will Set The World On Fire and Heat. The bonus tracks are So She, Plan and I’ll Take You There.
Then there are my personal picks. One is the anthemic You Feel So Lonely You Could Die. This is classic Bowie, a nasty look at suffering but what a rocker. Then there is the midtempo ballad Where Are We Now? — so haunt- ing, it brings Bowie’s unique vocals to fore. This makes me wonder when he will stop being innovative and just sing some standards. Should sound divine.