A break from the tyranny of the alphabet for a bit, and a look at more recent purchases.
This is an album I've intended to pick up at some point, and on seeing it in the splendid Rock Bottom Records in Whitstable, I snapped it up.
I also didn't buy a Walter Becker solo album, on the advice of the assistant, who played a couple of tracks to convince me of its disappointing quality.
I've spoken before of my admiration for (rather than love of) David Bowie, and my complete indifference to his music at the time. Arguably, by 1977 he was thought of, in some circles, as yesterday's man - overly theatrical, and part of the old wave - a view which completely overlooks the influence Bowie's personae had on the nascent King's Road punk movement. And this certainly wasn't on my radar in 1977 as I fluctuated between Canterbury prog and this new punk thing.
Forty plus years later, "Heroes" is recognised as a stone cold classic, Bowie doing what he did best - ignoring passing musical fads and making his own statements.
Books have been written about this album, dissecting it piece by piece, so I'm not sure what I can add. I had heard it many times before buying it, but perhaps now is the only time I'm really listening to it. I've now listened about half a dozen times over the last couple of days, and each listening reveals more.
Opening with two solid rock songs in Beauty And The Beast, and Joe The Lion (that's not meant to damn with faint praise, both are excellent, with a depth of sound few can match), it's not long before the instantly recognisable Robert Fripp guitar kicks off "Heroes", the hit single, and still a stunning piece of work; that combination of Fripp's guitar, Brian Eno's treatment and Bowie's delivery still bringing the hairs up, on the back of the neck. That ought to be hard to follow, but not for Bowie, with the slower, more balladic Sons Of The Silent Age, a fantastic (and lamentably neglected) song, with Bowie's admiration of Anthony Newley never more evident. He wraps up the first half with Blackout, a frantic rocker with some fantastic Fripp guitar.
It would be easy to follow that first half with more of the same, but Bowie doesn't always do the easy. The second half is mostly instrumental, opening with V-2 Schneider, in case you'd forgotten that Bowie was actually quite a good saxophonist as well. a funky piece with Eno treatments bubbling under. OK, it's not quite instrumental, the title is sung a couple of times at the end, but it gets the toes tapping, in contrast to the looming sound of Sense Of Doubt, where the Eno influence feels very evident, creating a menacing yet beautiful sound, which segues into Moss Garden, an almost ambient piece where Bowie plays the fractured melody on the koto, over Eno effects, to simply gorgeous effect, then climaxing in Neuköln, where he revisits the Sense Of Doubt theme, once again with some marvellous sax work. That ought to be enough for any listener, but there's one more treat, the glorious The Secret Life Of Arabia, a funk driven, flowing celebration to end a thoroughly captivating album.
This as a wonderful surprise. I expected it to be good, but wasn't prepared for it to be this good. Perhaps there's a lot more Bowie I need to investigate!
5* - Forty minutes of brilliance. Simply perfect.
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