10 Fakten zum neuen Album von David Bowie:
Lead single ‘Blackstar’, with its doomy elegance, multiple narrators and whiff of the occult, gives you a reasonable idea of what to expect – ie, the unexpected. 2014 oddity ‘Sue (Or In A Season Of Crime)’ reappears in radically reworked form, its big band melodrama now welded to a frantic, drum’n’bassy rhythm, its cacophonous climax reflecting the lyric’s murderous intent. ‘Lazarus’ is sung from the perspective of Newton, the homesick alien Bowie played in 1976 film ‘The Man Who Fell To Earth’, and who is also the subject of his new musical. Over a thick, skulking groove resembling latter-day Massive Attack, he inhabits the woes of a man out of time, scarred and self-mutilated.
But the most startling thing here is ‘Girl Loves Me’, a menacing, militaristic tattoo that that finds Bowie rapping “Where the fuck did Monday go?” in a lazily aggressive, sing-song style. Producer Tony Visconti has cited Kendrick Lamar’s ‘To Pimp A Butterfly’ as an influence on ‘Blackstar’, but is it possible that Bowie’s been listening to Young Thug and Future too?
(...) Is ‘Blackstar’ vintage Bowie? No, but nor is that the intention. Actually, one of the few certainties we can take from this restless, relentlessly intriguing album is that David Bowie is positively allergic to the idea of heritage rock.
(...) David Bowie releases the most extreme album of his entire career: Blackstar is as far as he's strayed from pop.
On “Girl Loves Me”, the brooding horn shadings offer ominous accompaniment to Bowie's quirky delivery of a cipher-song incorporating elements of the Nadsat vocabulary of A Clockwork Orange and the gay code-language polari, while the 10-minute title track sketches an execution ritual amid a miasmic, Middle-Eastern wash of strings and scrabbling sax.
Elsewhere, there's an oceanic melancholy to the moody, cinematic “Lazarus”, in which the alien played by Bowie in The Man Who Fell to Earth considers his purgatorial situation while fog-like sax swirls around his fugitive presence.
Both “'Tis a Pity She Was a Whore” and “Sue (Or in a Season of Crime)” are frantic, bustling whirls of avant-garde, banshee sax improvisation and drumming, while Bowie croons about deathly portents and desire: they're like footnotes to the transitional experiments of “Station to Station”, but with less potent melodies, and less interest in pleasing forms.
And although the intro vamp of “Dollar Days” offers a more congenial rhythmic base, the amorphously mooning sax blurs things enough for Bowie to sound like a man adrift in events he desperately needs to control. “I'm trying to,” he sings, “I'm dying to.” Or is that “I'm dying, too”? – a query that lingers as “I Can't Give Everything Away” closes the album with a satisfying climax of freely flowing sax and the album's sole guitar break.
It's a finale that suggests a Bowie desperate to break with the past, but acknowledging it'll always be with him – however hard he tries here.