Master of reinvention
IT’S almost three decades since David Bowie had a UK number one song. But the master of reinvention enjoyed instant success on Tuesday after releasing a new single on the internet.
Where Are They Now? appeared for sale on iTunes at 5am and by the end of the day had topped its chart.
David Bowie dispelled rumours that his career was over with the out-of-the-blue release, on his 66th birthday, of his first new single in a decade.
But for many the relief that the singer/songwriter still had all his creative faculties gave way, after the first couple of bars, to sadness.
For millions – myself included – Bowie had once been the most exciting pop star of his generation; now, judging by his new single, he has dwindled to little more than a pale echo of his 1970s glory days.
The four-and-a-half minute song Where Are We Now? appeared on his website without forewarning or fanfare.
The only publicity was a single message on Twitter, inviting his followers to ‘‘stumble upon… a wellkept secret”.
Within minutes, the news had travelled across the world, spread by the chattering of social media websites. It seems the man who once, as an unknown rocker in 1972, hired a platoon of bodyguards to make himself look like a megastar on tour in America, has learned to appreciate the effectiveness of understatement.
The surprise of fans and critics was all the greater because many thought the singer, still most famous for his Ziggy Stardust incarnation 40 years ago, had been brought low by illness and advancing years.
Following a heart attack on stage in 2004, Bowie has turned down all invitations to play live, even refusing to attend the Olympics opening ceremony last August, where his 1977 song Heroes practically became the anthem for a summer of sporting success.
A photograph taken on a New York street in October, close to his flat, showed a frail man, shuffling along in a flat cap and sweatshirt, clutching a paper bag that appeared to contain his lunch. It sparked fears that the former drug addict and chain smoker had cancer or perhaps dementia.
The new single at least reassures us he retains his poetic gift. In one poignant line he calls himself “a man lost in time, just walking the dead”.
The single sounds like an outtake from his late-1970s albums, which were recorded in Berlin, to which he escaped in an attempt to recover from his cocaine addiction.
The video that accompanies the single emphasises the Berlin connection, with grainy footage of the German capital projected on to a screen in a cluttered basement. In front of the flickering pictures of deserted streets and grimy statues, Bowie’s heavily-lined face materialises on a teddy bear, alongside the face of a woman set on another bear.
If there’s a message hidden in the eerie video, we probably won’t be able to decipher it until the album – The Next Day – goes on sale in March. Although little is known about the album, the titles of the songs have been released to whet the appetites of fans: You Will Set The
What is the most extreme reaction his latest release could provoke? Mild interest…
World On Fire, Dirty Boys, Dancing Out In Space.
Bowie’s son, the film director Duncan Jones (christened Zowie Bowie) tweeted yesterday, “First in ten years, and it’s a good ’un!” But his enthusiasm may not be matched by all of his father’s many fans.
The titles appear to have been chosen by a random Bowie song generator: an all too recognisable combination of his most hackneyed phrases borrowed from hits like: Boys Keep Swinging, Space Oddity, Let’s Dance and The Man Who Sold the World. Bingo! Instant Bowie.
There will, of course, be a round of forced smiles and hearty reviews from middle-aged critics who grew up with the classic vinyl LPs. It’ll be the same respectful applause and worn-out praise that greeted new albums last year from Paul Simon and Bob Dylan, and concerts given by Bruce Springsteen and the Rolling Stones.
“They’ve still got it!” we cry, willing ourselves to believe it.
But the new music of these rock dinosaurs isn’t a patch on the life-changing sounds that re-mapped popular culture the first time around.
When Ziggy Stardust strutted into Top Of The Pops in 1972, pouting into the camera and slinging an arm around his lead guitarist like they were lovers, the country was torn in two – one generation was disgusted, another inspired.
Bowie’s video for Life On Mars, a sustained shot (innocuous by today’s standard’s) panning across his heavily made-up face, was banned by the BBC that same year. The extreme, sexualised androgyny of Bowie’s make-up was deemed too shocking for television.
What is the most extreme reaction that his latest release could provoke? Mild interest, melancholy for lost youth.
It would have been far better if he’d done something else. A novel, a collection of poems, a movie role, a website, just something that didn’t sully his musical legacy.
Could Beatle John Lennon ever have matched his greatest work – Imagine, or Help!, or Strawberry Fields – had he lived? By 1980 he was already making the most lacklustre music of his life, with songs like Double Fantasy.
Sir Paul McCartney, meanwhile, has tried endlessly to recreate the glory of earlier days.
Still the old acts drag on. Hoary old warhorses like Dylan and Springsteen continue their overpriced, never-ending tours playing old songs in new ways or making hearts sink with that ghastly phrase: “Here’s one from our new album…” But no one ever sings the new songs in the shower, and no cover band plays them in the pub on a Friday night.
Revolutions happen once in a lifetime. That’s why there won’t be another Bowie. He changed the world… but that was long ago and far away. –
Daily Mail.