New album: The Next Day
Artist: David Bowie
Label: Columbia/RCA
Rating: 2.5 stars out of 5
It’s got to be tough for David Bowie to put his heart into new music. If he blazes a completely new trail, old fans will complain that it doesn’t remind them of “The Man Who Sold the World.” Conversely, if Bowie crafts an album of prime 1970s Ziggy rock or re-channels the classic Berlin sound that yielded “Heroes,” he’ll be accused of recycling his own muse.
On “The Next Day,” Bowie dips his brush into most every color of his musical past to create a pleasant yet insignificant group of songs. Since the man hasn’t released an album of new material in 10 years, many found it odd that the record company didn’t start pushing it to the public months in advance.
One Oliver Stone-esque theory? The quality of the album doesn’t really warrant any hyperbole.
First single “Where Are We Now?” seems heartfelt, but it’s better suited for a Leonard Cohen album. Bowie’s droll delivery gives off a cool detective voice-over effect at the beginning, but that great emotional crescendo you’re expecting to barrel through never appears.
Equally plodding are “Valentine’s Day,” “I’d Rather Be High” and “You Feel So Lonely You Could Die.” There are signs of life on the dance track “If You Can See Me” and the ambient doom rock of “Heat,” both of which are examples of moderately interesting songs propelled by Bowie’s charisma and intact vocal prowess.
“Love Is Lost” recalls the brilliant, metallic melodicism of Bowie’s “Scary Monsters” era. Guitarist Gary Leonard rips through “Love Is Lost” in the tradition of Bowie guitar foils Robert Fripp and Reeves Gabrels, yet the song still possesses the quirky Bowie feeling of both eyes not blinking at the same time.
The lyrics aren’t Bowie’s most profound, but he still sounds great singing them. The “Fame”-meets-Tom Waits-stomp of “Dirty Boys” offers further hope that Bowie still has the means to create great new music.
“The Next Day” isn’t a bad album, but it’s not great — it’s just OK. Bowie has created too much splendid music over the years, which has spoiled his fans. It’s a nice problem to have, and it’ll be interesting to see where the great chameleon of rock goes from here.
Classic album: The Raw and The Cooked
Artist: Fine Young Cannibals
Label: I.R.S.
Rating: 4 stars out of 5
The year 1988 doesn’t shuttle to the front of the line when great years in pop music are discussed, but it was a watershed year for Fine Young Cannibals.
Two thirds of the band (bassist Dave Steele and guitarist David Cox) were refugees from the recently imploded British ska band the Beat. Vocalist Roland Gift’s musical pedigree wasn’t nearly as decorated, but his high-strung vocals made Fine Young Cannibals records impossible to ignore.
The reconstructed Motown/Tamla vibe of “Good Thing” resulted in a hit that people from the age of 5 to 500 couldn’t resist. The song is propelled by Steele’s simple yet insistent bass, vibrant piano and Gift’s Al Green-on-helium falsetto. In a year that was dominated by hair metal and synthetic pop goo, the neo-soul of “Good Thing” was a breath of fresh air.
One world-wide hit would have been enough, but “The Raw and The Cooked” also boasted another in “She Drives Me Crazy.” More modern in its execution than “Good Thing,” “Crazy” was still a seemingly simple song propelled this time by an infectious Cox guitar riff and a vocal hook that landed many amateur copy cats in intensive care.
The remainder of the album isn’t as strong as the two big singles, but it comes close. “I’m Not the Man I Used to Be” was a moderate hit in the U.S. and achieved even more success overseas. Why the brilliant pop of “Tell Me What” was never released in the states as a single is a musical mystery of Jimmy Hoffa proportions.
A few tracks (“Don’t Let It Get You Down” especially) are overrun with early techno touches that haven’t aged well, but that’s a minor quibble. Albums such as “The Raw and The Cooked” are proof that the 1980s weren’t totally void of musical quality.
Jon Dawson’s album reviews appear every Thursday in The Free Press. Contact Jon at 252-559-1092 or jon.dawson@kinston.com. Purchase books, music and previously owned socks at jondawson.com.