I've seen DB as the
Thin White Duke, the Let's Dance Raconteur, one of the guys
in that band, the Jungle Alchemist, and now... er, well, I'm
still trying to figure out who the hell he is this time. But
despite whatever facade employed to spin the music, it's still
all about the music.
If you are a "True
Bowie Fan", you don't care what he puts out, because it's
a piece of the man's mind that we're attracted to, a musical
slice of his soul, that certain kind of journey that only his
artistry can take us on. We don't care what the critics think,
because none of them could have ever written "Golden Years"
or "Seven Years in Tibet".
My level of commitment
to this artist is steady and unwavering, because I know that
if I don't get Msr. Jones' statement on the first listen, I
will later... eventually. As with many of DB's albums, the new
CD cannot be fully assimilated in just one sitting (I put in
a full week's worth of repeated listenings, before deciding
to take a week off to digest. Returning only now to listen one
more time whilst I write this). It's taken me only 2 weeks to
figure out where this work was coming from. "OUTSIDE"
took me months!
My verdict: It's
not his "Best in Years" and it's certainly not his
worst, although I am hard-pressed to choose one of the later.
Good, Bad, or Commercial, this is what a "True Bowie Fan"
is. We take it because we like it - I am one of these.
But then there are
the those people. The ones who call themselves fans.
The ones who only came on board with "China Girl"
and the like. The ones who've been pissed off at the man ever
since for not continuing on down that pop course. They wouldn't
know Nathan Adler if he came up to them and stabbed them repeatedly
with the dull blade of their own awareness. These are the people
who shunned Tin Machine, the dullards who didn't get "BLACK
TIE, WHITE NOISE", and the ones who think "LOW"
is something you put your cellphone on.
They are the "Fair-Weather
Fans".
And, based on the
critical response to DB's HOURS, they are also many of the current
crop of music critics. They believe DB has found a way to repatriate
himself with them, by putting out a disc that reminds them of
something that they once heard before, it's "glam-esqe"
or "more metallic" or some such nonsense. They think
it familiar ground revisited 25 years later, for some nostalgic
glory recaptured... BOLLOCKS!
It's the just the
master throwing out the net a little bit wider to accommodate
the comatose.
And that's okay,
they'll only be with us until the next album comes out. Then
we'll have him all to ourselves again.
