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David
Bowie: Reality
Sony, 2003
Rating: 4.0
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Posted: September 20,
2003
By
Laurence Station
David Bowie just wasn't meant to be a follower. From his rise to the
stratospheric heights of rock superstardom in the 1970s through his
artistically fallow but commercially successful early '80s run, Bowie
nimbly skirted the obvious trends. In the mid-'70s, when the punk movement
was taking hold, Bowie was perfecting his detached, blue-eyed soul "Thin
White Duke" persona. While New Wave (punk's more pop-oriented offshoot)
was finding mainstream acceptance on the charts and in the dance clubs at
the beginning of the '80s, Bowie released Scary Monsters, one of
the tougher rockers of his career. By 1983's hugely popular Let's
Dance, Bowie found himself competing with the New Romantic subgenre of
New Wave (which, ironically, he helped inspired). And then a decade-long creative decline set in. 1984's
Tonight was little more than a fast grab cash-in on the heightened
awareness achieved via Let's Dance, and 1987's Never Let Me Down
was a little too obvious in its anti-commercial rejection of past
successes. It was as if Bowie had to tear himself down to zero and start
all over again.
In the '90s, Bowie attempted to connect with the Gen-X/alterna-everything
sound of the moment, first with 1995's Outside, an overproduced
stab at Trent Reznor-style industrial pop, and then with 1997's laudable
but trying-too-hard techno excursion, Earthling. The problem lay
with Bowie attempting to do something he's simply never been good at:
Following popular trends. On 1999's Hours, Bowie seemed to realize
this; it's the first sign of a more mature artist accepting the fact that,
despite what the Rolling Stones would have people believe, rock 'n' roll
is and shall forever remain the domain of the young. Realizing he'll never
again come close to hitting the critical and commercial heights of his
astonishing 1970s output, Bowie finally appeared at peace with that
knowledge.
Which leads us to last year's Heathen, the best Bowie album
since Scary Monsters and one that, coincidentally enough, Bowie
produced with his Monsters collaborator, Tony Visconti. Heathen
exhibits a grim acceptance on Bowie's part that, as he admits on the title
track, "All things must pass", but not before he pays tribute to fellow
artists (Neil Young and the Pixies, in particular) who've touched and
inspired him.
Where Heathen found Bowie assessing his accomplishments, his
influence and his place in the rock 'n' roll hierarchy, Reality
offers a darker take on Heathen's melancholic but clear-eyed
examination of one's past. Once again working with Visconti, Bowie seems
determined to punch things up a little more with this effort. The "ready,
set, go" guitar-driven "New Killer Star" sets the tone early, as does a
sprightly, fun cover of Jonathan Richman's "Pablo Picasso," with wry lines
like "Well he was only 5'3" / But girls could not resist his stare".
Like Heathen, Reality contains its fair share of quieter,
more introspective moments. "The Loneliest Guy," a mournful tale of regret
and loss, is effectively sandwiched between the defiantly optimistic
"Never Get Old" ("Looking at the future / Solid as a rock / Because of
you") and the considerably more desperate "Looking for Water." "Days"
finds Bowie admitting "All the days of my life / I owe you," as he seeks
forgiveness (from whom is never made clear) for selfishly taking
throughout his career and offering little in return. It's the sound of an
older man putting his affairs in order, mending bridges, and,
significantly, restoring order to his life.
The balance between impassioned rockers and haunted ruminations is
Reality's true accomplishment. It may not cut as deeply as the more
reserved Heathen, but it's certainly a lot more fun. Save, that is,
for Bowie's other cover, a glossy run through of George Harrison's "Try
Some, Buy Some" that neither rocks nor asks relevant questions, throwing
off the album's heretofore expertly sequenced flow. In the final analysis,
Reality proves a worthwhile addition to the Bowie catalogue, an
album whose creator is neither starting trends nor following them, but
rather comfortable in his own, near six-decade-old skin. And while it
might not push the experimental envelope as forcefully as some critics or
fans would like, it nonetheless sounds as vital and vibrant as any
pop-rock record released this year. And after 40 years and 26 albums, the
man's earned a little downtime for reflection.
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