David Bowie - The Next Day album review
As comebacks go, Bowie’s return to the rock’n’roll fold after a decade of near silence has been a remarkable success.
The great man himself has kept his counsel, but he must be delighted with the overwhelmingly positive reaction to his guerrilla releases since the understated Where Are We Now? was unveiled to mark his 66th birthday on January 8.
Within hours, the internet was awash with predictions about what the forthcoming album The Next Day would sound like. A nostalgic look back at his Berlin glory years perhaps? Even an MOR collection of artful ballads was suggested.
Thankfully, producer Tony Visconti immediately set the record straight – the cracked, vulnerable Bowie heard on Where Are We Now? was a red herring. The remaining tracks on the album, we were told, included full-throttle rockers and finds Dame David on fine, unabashed form. It sounded promising…
While Visconti, of course, talked up the album as being something good enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with Bowie’s work in the 70s and his Scary Monsters high watermark of the early 80s, he wasn’t exaggerating that this was a discernible return to form.
Half a dozen listens to The Next Day confirms it’s a fine, diverse collection on which every Bowie fan which find at least a handful of premium grade tracks to get their teeth into.
He comes fairly tumbling out of the blocks with the aggressive title track.
“Here I am, not quite dying, my body left to rot in a hollow tree…” he positively mocks those who thought his heart attack of 2004 had blown his flame out for good.
It’s a remarkable statement of intent with Bowie putting in a particularly passionate vocal performance.
In terms of trademark Bowie art rock, complete with skronking baritone sax, then the following track, Dirty Boys, ticks all of the right boxes. It boasts a classic middle eight, too, and an instantly hooky chorus. Earl Slick’s guitar lines are economical and very precisely played.
If there’s one surprise to these ears on The Next Day is that it’s two of the poppiest tracks that shine brightest. The slyly vituperative The Stars (Are Out Tonight) is a none too veiled attack on vacuous celebrity culture. It’s a real grower and (whisper it) boasts a singalong chorus. How very conformist.
Valentine’s Day is another straight ahead pop song, but none the worse for that. The Dame seems to be having real fun with the throwaway backing lyrics and there’s some great supporting guitar work as texture.
Less successful is Love Is Lost, where Bowie inhabits the character of a disturbed young woman. Zachary Alford’s drums steal the show on a tune slower than the rest to reveal its charms.
After the relatively frantic opening exchanges, Where Are We Now? offers up some respite and grows in stature with every listen. It’s no ‘Heroes’, let’s not get too carried away here, but the closing refrain of “As long as there's fire, As long as there's me, As long as there's you” - as lyrically oblique as that might be – still packs a mighty emotional wallop thanks to Bowie’s delivery.
If You Can See Me, complete with speeded up chipmunk backing vocals, is the most obvious and successful return to peak period Bowie art rock. It’s an unrelenting steamroller of a track which rattles along at a million miles a minute. There’s still fire in his belly, for sure. Those who harrumphed at his mid-90s adoption of drum and bass with Earthling may at least get something from this.
The chiming I’d Rather Be High is another favourite. With a decided Britpop feel of chiming electric guitars and strummed acoustics, there’s a little Stone Roses shuffle to this knowing anti-war plea. The “I’d rather be fly…” line does sound a little odd coming from a pensioner, though, but certainly raises a smile as does the very camp Bowie payoff: “just remember duckies, everybody gets got…”
The baritone saxes are back for the 80s-sounding Boss of Me which returns us to the Ashes to Ashes era. I could have done without the slap bassline, and it’s one of few tracks here that feels like filler.
The mid-album drop-off continues with Dancing Out In Space. Driven by a finger-snapping amped up Motown backbeat drives it’s frothy but inconsequential fun.
Much stranger is another anti-war song, How Does The Grass Grow?, which follows it. Dropping in a vocal appropriation of The Shadows’ Apache is a memorable hook but I’m not too sure what Bowie was trying to accomplish with it.
The opening fuzz tone riff of (You Will) Set The World On Fire rocks you back on your heels and is the album’s heaviest moment. Leavened by another singalong chorus it seemingly tells the story of the Greenwich Village beat poet and folk scene of the early 60s although you have to scratch away pretty hard at the surface to reveal its true meaning. It’s another grandstanding, bravura vocal performance from Bowie, though, and a late highlight here.
Equally affecting is the emotive ballad You Feel So Lonely You Could Die – as overwrought as its title suggests. Hats off for the sheer cheek of including the shuffling Five Years drumbeat from Ziggy Stardust as a coda, too.
He rounds off with the blatant Scott Walker homage of Heat. Cut very much from the same cloth, Bowie and Walker make perfect bedfellows as feted pop stars turned art rock experimentalists. The song itself seems rather out of place from the rest of The Next Day. A square peg in a round hole. In a way, there’s a certain poeticism about that.
Nothing then to ruin the legacy of one of the great back catalogues in rock and a healthy handful of gems to add to the canon. Oh, and let's not forget that if Tony Visconti is to be believed then there's another full album's worth of material already in the can. If those dozen or more songs are up to snuff then Bowie's Indian Summer is complete.
Rating: 8/10
STEVE HARNELL
