David Bowie - The Next Day

Those of you who are thinking folk might have realised by now that I'm a bit of a Bowie fan. On January 6 this year, I was one of those clichéd giddy young folk reacting to a Twitter buzz at about 7am with far more energy and excitement than is required for such an early hour. Then, of course, came Where Are We Now? and its will-it-won't-it charting kerfuffle, and it was all a little bit too good to be true. A whole decade had passed since the admittedly average Reality, and whilst the die-hard fans have been slightly quelled by appearances in The Prestige and Extras, and some background musical work with Arcade Fire, Scarlett Johansson and TV on the Radio, there was indeed the growing fear that the Thin White Duke had retired for good.

The album's artwork has been the focus of much of the buzz around The Next Day: a cheeky wink to his classic albums, and somewhat of a visual reminder that David Bowie himself doesn't exactly show his face a lot anymore. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, though, and such a prolonged one has made the man the hot favourite for this year's Mercury Prize. Will the album warrant it? (Well the Alt-J one didn't but that's beside the point)

Initially the music is rather typical of his post-1996 (and weird industrial alien-botherer Bowie) work: the title track a sturdy but unremarkable rocker with a decent enough chorus to let you last it out, but nothing really begging to be heard again. The tempo's then reduced a bit for the brassy, horn-driven 'Dirty Boys'. "When the sun goes down and the die is cast/ You have no choice" Bowie warns of those who endeavour to "smash some windows, make a noise". Sadly, it's potentially the least convincing chronicle of rebellious youth imaginable, and struggles to capture any imagination. The same thankfully cannot be said of second single 'The Stars (Are Out Tonight)' and its kooky, slightly mad music video. As though appearing himself wasn't enough, Tilda Swinton is bagged and the androgynousness abounds with two rather gorgeous models. The song itself is a catchy yet damning portrayal of young celebrity: "They burn you with their radiant smiles/ trap you with their beautiful eyes/ they're broke and shamed or drunk and scared", he observes, with bedazzled satire. Things get even darker but carry on the newfound fame thematics with the organ-led 'Love is Lost': "Say goodbye to the thrills of life!" he warns, as someone picks up a new house. "Your maid is new, your accent too/ but your fear is as old as the world".

Fear is endemic at this point: the poignant and beautiful lead single ballad 'Where Are We Now?' poses the timeless question of existentialism and, through the poring over of Berlin memories, reveals the Thin White Duke to be something of an aimless, empty man. The ending refrains do more than enough to put a sunny outlook on things, though, and as the drums swell Bowie reminds himself of the constants - "as long as there's me/ as long as there's you". A much happier trip to the past is the Mott the Hoople-evoking 'Valentine's Day', the album's strongest hook by far. The lyrics, however, tell the tale of a teenage shooter: "Valentine told me who's to go/ Feelings he's treasured most of all/ the teachers and the football star", Bowie sings, with frightening breeze. We then jump forward about twenty Bowie years to the frenetic drumming and Outside-sounding 'If You Can See Me'. It's energetic, and far more so than you'd expect a 66 year old to be, but not gripping. Similarly, 'I'd Rather Be High' boasts some fine guitarwork from Gerry Leonard, but little else. Leonard co-writes 'Boss of Me', a saxier bit of bass fineness. By 'Dancing Out in Space' you're wondering if Bowie is deliberately parodying himself so far as the song titles, and the drums are a little too reminiscent of far superior works - Modern Love, perhaps, or Lust For Life.

After a fairly hefty chunk of averageness the hope for a classic is somewhat deteriorated, but 'How Does the Grass Grow?' does valiantly to erase that memory. Although there's potential to ruin it by waiting for guest vocals from Elmo (try to tell me it's not him), the Shadows-sampling singalong vibe of it all certainly reignites the album. Lyrically, the track is reminiscent of PJ Harvey's Let England Shake: "where do the boys lie? Mud, mud, mud/ how does the grass grow? Blood, blood, blood". Its placing before '(You Will) Set the World on Fire' - and its prosperous illustration of the folk scene in the '60s - may lose a few of us, but it's fine. Certainly, for many, the high point of The Next Day will be the Ziggy epoch 'You Feel So Lonely You Could Die', a kind of halfway point between 'Rock N Roll Suicide' and 'Five Years'. A billing that demands a heck of a lot of theatricality and melancholy, but it delivers. "Oblivion shall own you/ death alone shall love you", Bowie triumphantly sings, before the drum solo from Five Years carries our corpse out in tranquility. A fine ending point, you'd agree, but 'Heat' follows, and it's a marvellously dark Scott Walker-esque "I don't know who I am" send-off.

The album's effectively been billed by many critics and musicians as something of a collective of all of Bowie's various guises and resurrections. That there are so many and Bowie manages to swerve inbetween them with ease and precision shows a clear fondness for his work and legacy. Sure, some of the songs might pose dark questions and a general sense of confusion, but much of The Next Day feels celebratory. Maybe the ten years leading up to it have influenced the feel-good vibes, but there's an obviously improved work in the songwriting here that should leave TND as one of Bowie's later classics. Some will of course sigh and dither and hold it up to Hunky Dory or Low or Ziggy and draw the obvious conclusions -  this isn't as good as them - but where's the fun in that? Going through music over the decades only sticking to the greats can be a lonely business and leave you wishing you could have, I don't know, seen U2 or Prince in the 80s, or McCartney in the 60s (although indeed, hoping to see the Starman nowadays might be waiting in vain). There are none so prolific as Bowie when it comes to engaging the audience over such prolonged periods of time, and The Next Day serves as a firm holding hand for the more enduring music lovers.

Rating: 9/10
Highlights: Valentine's Day; Where Are We Now?; (You Will) Set the World on Fire; How does the Grass Grow?; You Feel So Lonely You Could Die
Avoid: Dirty Boys; Dancing Out in Space

Artwork Watch: A little bit audacious. Rife for parody. The usual.
Up next: Rhye