DAVID BOWIE
Blackstar
(Columbia)
In the brief space between the album’s
January 8 release on Bowie’s 69th birthday and his death on January 10, Blackstar
simply existed as a rejuvenated and challenging work, refining the creative purpose Bowie displayed on 2012’s compelling but less-focused The Next Day.
Blackstar was scary, exciting and satisfying
in that perspective. We know now that
David Bowie knew that he was looking
Death in the eye. After a lifetime of bringing fearless art to the mainstream world,
he absorbed the knowledge of mortality
and fear of the ticking clock and wrestled
art from that, too. From that perspective,
Blackstar becomes extraordinary. One
hopes that Bowie was able to see the
laudatory early reviews and take some
pleasure in their recognition of his boldness and success. The album is comprised
of seven tracks, running 42 minutes, hearkening to the '70s and '80s heyday of the
vinyl album format. Blackstar is concise,
cohesive and self-contained. Bowie’s
longtime production partner Tony
Visconti has discussed other tracks
recorded during the Blackstar sessions, but
this batch makes its thematic and musical
statement by design. The song “Lazarus”
was developed for an off-Broadway production that concluded in January, but it
becomes a centerpiece of the album sung
in Bowie’s own voice. We can mourn his
passing, but he tells us not to worry. “Just
like that bluebird. Oh, I’ll be free,” sings
Bowie, as if foreshadowing his own
demise with an aura of peace or acceptance. The overall tone of the album, however, is dark. The unsettling tone, sprawling musical exploration and Eastern
melody of the album’s title track reflect
upon modern worries including ISIS. The
off-kilter “Girl Loves Me” does lighten up
as Bowie adopts old British slang called
Polari and the future-punk “nadsat” language of A Clockwork Orange. The danger
in examining Bowie's final album purely
as a daring final statement is to miss the
fact that it’s so musically rich. Despite
Bowie’s illness, his voice is colorful and
enveloping. The band is bracing and
excellent. Those who have enjoyed
Bowie’s saxophone excursions in the past
should be thrilled by the instrument’s key
presence throughout Blackstar, courtesy of
stellar New York jazz musician Donny
McCaslin. McCaslin is given room to run
on “’Tis a Pity She Was a Whore” and
“Dollar Days.” McCaslin's own musicians
comprise the core of the Blackstar band,
and their taut jazz acumen puts a discernible snap into the album’s rock and
roll on songs like the skittering “Sue (Or
in a Season of Crime).” In the song,
Bowie’s tragic character devotes his life
and fidelity to an ultimately faithless
lover who has possibly gone away with
Death himself. Or “that clown,” as Bowie
sneers. 1995’s Outside was another of
Bowie’s scariest albums, and it