Absolute beginner? No, Bowie’s funky, fun and fabulous
DAVID BOWIE: Blackstar (RCA) Verdict: The Starman tears up the rulebook again
DAVID BOWIE has carved his considerable reputation on a diet of constant change. But he might have sprung his biggest surprise yet by celebrating his 69th birthday today with a new album that reiterates his status as the most enigmatic figure in British music. Bowie’s aim with this 28th studio album, according to long-term producer Tony Visconti, was to step away from rock ’n’ roll. And, over an intriguing 42 minutes, Blackstar does just that.
In embracing jazzy improvisation and funky fusion, it also moves away from current trends and anything resembling a three-minute pop song.
It’s a move that will have fans holding their breath.
But there has always been method in Bowie’s madness, and the seven cleverly crafted pieces here, all between five and ten minutes long, are inventive yet accessible, with an exceptional group of musicians adding their own colour and verve.
The roots of Blackstar — its title stylised as a black, stellar-like symbol — can be traced back to a Sunday evening in 2014, when Bowie popped into the 55 Bar, a downtown jazz joint not far from the New York home he shares with wife Iman and teenage daughter Lexi.
The quartet he saw that night performing spontaneous instrumentals — saxophonist Donny McCaslin, keyboardist Jason Lindner, bassist Tim Lefebvre and drummer Mark Guiliana — are now his backing band.
And, on Blackstar, they shine. The upshot is an album far removed from Bowie’s 2013 comeback, The Next Day. That record’s guitar-rockers and surging choruses had plenty in common with albums from the singer’s golden years, including 1972’s Ziggy Stardust.
If Blackstar shares a musical spirit with anything from Bowie’s past, it is 1976’s under-rated Station To Station, a transitional album of long, funky refrains and striking ballads on which he launched his Thin White Duke alter-ego and paved the way for his celebrated Berlin trilogy.
The ballads here are stunning, too, notably an episodic title track that stitches two separate tunes together to produce a captivating, ten-minute suite with unexpected melodic twists. ‘I’m not a wandering star, I’m a blackstar,’ sings Bowie.
It’s the first of several superb performances from him. The other big ballad, Lazarus, is lifted from the singer’s stage musical of the same name, one of the hottest tickets in Manhattan theatreland.
With Bowie augmenting McCaslin’s wailing saxophone with fierce electric guitar, it sounds like a number based on a fictional character, though it could also be a reflection on the early US tours that made him a superstar in the States. ‘By the time I got to New York, I was living like a king,’ he sings. With honking sax again prominent, there are up-tempo moments, too.
Titled after a blood-soaked tragedy by Jacobean dramatist John Ford, ’Tis A Pity She Was A Whore is an energetic jazz-rock workout.
And with James Murphy (of dancerock act LCD Soundsystem) adding urgent backing, kitchen sink drama Sue (Or In A Season Of Crime) revamps a track first issued as a single two years ago.
The album’s only low-point arrives with the disorientating Girl Loves Me, sung largely in the London slang of the Fifties and Sixties. But with Bowie in commanding form, the album ends with two eloquent numbers powered by strummed guitars, shuffling drums — and yet more saxophone.
Dollar Days finds the Brit-in-exile reconciling himself to the absence of ‘English evergreens’ in his adopted homeland, while I Can’t Give Everything Away appears to comment on the elusive star’s fondness for toying with aliases while revealing little of his true self: ‘Saying no but meaning yes / That’s the message that I sent.’
It’s a smart assessment of rock’s master of disguise and a highlight of an album that mixes elements of the traditional jam session with heady invention.
Not for the first time, the Thin White Duke has set his own agenda — and he’s come up trumps.
ADRIAN THRILLS