It's kind of telling that
The Flaming Lips relased a song a couple of years ago called "Is from Bowie's wife Iman Dying?" The chamleonic artist--and possibly the greatest living rockstar we've got--had long been quiet up to that point, following a 2004 heart attack. Not long after that song came word from from Bowie's wife
Iman that he was walking away from music to concentrate on fatherhood and other artistic pursuits. And yet, here we are, obsessing over the latest album from one of, if not rock's greatest living artist.
The obvious question is how
The Next Day stacks against Bowie's past catalog. It's more assured than either of his post-millennial albums,
Heathen and
Reality (which were no slouches either), but of a piece with them nonetheless. The 21st century has seen Bowie summarize and repurpose his past to great effect. While the other albums, however, were all over the place,
The Next Day has a tighter focus--it's the
Scary Monsters follow-up that never was. It's a heavier album than Bowie's done in a long time, mostly consisting of uptempo rock songs like the title track, "Boss of Me" and "(You Will) Set The World On Fire." It's a darker album than he's done in a long time, addressing death and isolation without sentimentality on "Love Is Lost," "I'd Rather Be High" and "You Feel So Lonely You Could Die."
For the most part, Bowie keeps the more overt reflection to a minimum on lead single "Where Are We Now?," his look back at the Berlin period. Instead, he looks back mainly by mining his old work. "You Feel So Lonely You Could Die" calls back to "Five Years." The stomp of "Dirty Boys" brings back memories of the plastic funk of "Golden Years." And closing track "Heat" not only brings to mind the more ambient pieces of
Low and
Heroes, but also Scott Walker, a peer and an influence on Bowie's vocal style (and an artist who has never stopped releasing challenging music). It's kind of impossible not to expect a trip down memory lane, but
The Next Day tours through Bowie's past glories while displaying an undeniable vitality. It's the work of a man who has lived and continues to do so.