Before I tell you anything, you probably already know that The Next Day is not David Bowie’s best album. You probably already know that it doesn’t even make it into his top ten. I’m sure you were excited when its release was announced in January, but even then you probably knew that no matter how good of an album he made, Bowie’s best days are long behind him. Of course, this is true. But is it entirely fair to expect that he’s no longer any good at all? Whereas most musicians will never make an album as good as Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie’s made at least five. He knows what he’s doing. So really, cut the guy some slack.
Opening with the title track, The Next Day starts things off on the right foot. With a propulsive drumbeat, fuzzy guitars and a bouncing bass line, it’s got all the fixings of a classic Berlin-era Bowie cut. The sum of each instrumental part makes for an undeniably upbeat and danceable whole, but its Bowie’s vocal performance that really makes the song more than just dance music. At first calm and restrained, his voice slowly becomes unhinged as the intensity of the song picks up. By the time he gets to the lines, “Here I am, not quite dying / my body left to rot in a hollow tree / its branches forming shadows on the gallows for me,” he’s descended into a mad howl, mirroring the darkness of the lyrics and bringing the disorder out from underneath the instrumental parts’ surface polish.
Other songs also echo the claustrophobic sound of Bowie’s late ’70s Berlin albums. “Love is Lost” is particularly dark, thanks in large part to the metallic synths and drumbeat that shudders with tinny reverb after every snare hit. Bowie snarls, “Oh, what have you done?” in a refrain while the synth and drums rise to full intensity before cutting away, leaving a few seconds of eerie silence between it and the next song.
It’s not an entirely dreary affair, though. Bowie reminds us that despite his many ventures into art rock, he can still write a damn good pop tune. “Dancing Out in Space” manages to swing along with a hook as catchy as some of his best songs, while also acknowledging how ridiculous his more bizarre musical explorations can be. The title alone reads like a parody of his early ’70s work.
Then there are moments like the album’s first single “Where Are We Now?” where Bowie reflects on the past and how he got to where he is, all the while aided by strings and a simple, unobtrusive piano accompaniment. The result is somber and hopeful all at once, an utterly brilliant moment of sensitivity. The song is reminiscent in style to Bowie’s early classic “Life on Mars,” but where “Mars” stuns with the strength of Bowie’s voice, it is now a fragile instrument, one made easily breakable after years of use. The effect is no less breathtaking.
So is The Next Day Bowie’s next Low or Station to Station? No, but why does it have to be? When judged against such indisputable masterpieces, even good albums are bound to underwhelm. Taken for what it is, The Next Day is a good album. Hell, The Next Day is a great album. It will make you dance, it will make you feel and it might even make you think. It may not be anything groundbreaking, like his best music has accustomed us to, but Bowie’s appreciation for his past work is evident on every single one of the album’s fourteen tracks. Hearing an artist who has previously been so occupied with reinventing himself take the time to look back on his old stylistic explorations is wholly refreshing. David Bowie has assumed many different identities over his career from Ziggy Stardust to Aladdin Sane to the Thin White Duke, but on The Next Day he seems perfectly content with getting to know himself better.
