David Bowie – Reality

i'm really hoping that this doesn't end up being bowie's last recording, although i understand that there are issues with his health. to a certain extent, i think he owes it to the ratios of the universe to go out on a higher note than this. he's had a very long time to think about it now. is there a musical existence for david bowie somewhere beyond pop music, in some kind of a "serious" genre? how will that be accepted by a largely aging fan base? will there be one further attempt at remaking himself?

let me deal with the covers first........no. just......no. it's david bowie. just.....no. i've seen the arguments about being humble and they may even be correct, but it's just too easy to accuse him of capitalizing off of harrison's death, even if there's not an ounce of truth to it. i'm going to guess that what underlies the covers is actually some kind of twisted psychological trick geared towards people much older than me. pablo picasso? the modern lovers? oh! i that! it was one of my favourite songs in high school! i wonder what it will sound like with bowie singing it......maybe i should ask my wife.....oh, it's only twenty dollars...

hook, line, sinker. fish on! now, reel 'er in!

ignoring the covers, the problem with this disc is it's complete subservience to pop song songwriting. see, bowie is supposed to be the anti-pop-star; he's supposed to write pop music that in no way resembles pop music. so, a song like "she'll drive the big car", while perfectly acceptable on some lesser peon's record, is not of a level of quality that is acceptable on a bowie record. there are also some just plain painful moments on the disc; never get old is just difficult to listen to, and it's not hard to guess why, while reality is the token track with a heavily distorted guitar riff and very much sounds forced into being precisely that. generic pop doesn't just fall flat because it's generic, it falls flat because it's disingenuous and driven by profit; the one thing that has the ability to save generic pop is an infusion of legitimate ion. this disc has very little of that. it sounds calculated, disinterested and constructed with the purpose of moving units first and writing music second. while likely a bit of a slip, bowie its as much in the fifth track when he states that his heart's not in it.

the few high points of the disc consist of the few tracks where he seems more than disinterested and are not worth the price of the disc. if this does end up being bowie's last record, it is at least appropriate that he ends his career with a reflective eight-minute lounge track driven by mike garson's eccentric piano playing.