Gratuitous Bowie Sycophancy #11
Written: Oct 10 '06 (Updated Dec 30 '06)
|
Product Rating:
|
|
|
Pros: An almost wholly electrifying album of experimental work from Bowie, Eno and Alomar
Cons: Time has not been generous to some of the ambient work
The Bottom Line: The strongest album in the Berlin trilogy still sounds uniformly wonderful to this date, but is too indulgent to remain a classic
|
|
|
| brian_lettsin's Full Review: Heroes [Remaster] by David Bowie |
It was over two years ago that I discovered David Jones, quickly fell under his spell and embraced his quite remarkable canon over a series of months. Since then, I have lost about five friends, all of whom labelled him overrated, have been accused of living in a glam-rock time warp and have built a popcorn shrine to the great man in my back yard. I have also avoided penning any reviews of the his unparalleled work, mainly because I am afraid that my words will never do justice to his brilliance, and that I would end up turning against him because of my syntactical ineptitude. Now that I have been promoted to top reviewer status, my fear has quelled considerably, and there is no need to worry anymore. Apparently this position gives me some authority, so I may as well use it to preach to the converted and to indulge in lots of circumlocutory derriere-kissing. This is one in a series of comprehensive reviews limited to his masterworks and lesser-known favourites, dealing mainly with the music, but including a necessary smattering of historical detail. I want to concentrate on why the music is so terrific (as though that wasn’t obvious) and avoiding offending Bowie scholars. This series, therefore, will concern itself with excessive flattery, repeated uses of the phrase “Jean Genius” and random noises of adoration such as “uhhh” or “wooo,” which are both terms of reverence in this small country that adjoins England and isn’t Wales. The review begins below.
****
After the magnificent, emotional and murky ‘Station To Station’ album, recorded at the heights of his cocaine addiction, Bowie sought refuge in the experimental musician’s haven, Berlin. A gloomy, rather anachronistic town, he took his pal Iggy Pop and wrote the bulk of his seminal work ‘Lust For Life’ in this place, as well pushing out two other very odd and occasionally brilliant albums. ‘Heroes’ follows on from the synthesizer-heavy ‘Low’ LP which was crammed full of understated classics and sweeping instrumentals which seemed to capture the essence of the town without much difficulty. This is a much odder and darker work, with heavier guitars and some incredibly rambunctious and feverish vocals from Bowie. It benefits, however, from having one of the greatest tunes ever written in the history of mankind only three songs in, so the listener has to bite their tongue a great deal with this one.
The second record of the influential but not wholly accessible Berlin trilogy is not one of David Bowie’s finest, but once again he attempts to set the blueprint for the careers of hundreds of bands to come and create the music of the future with this ambitious set. Although you can hear him laying the foundations throughout, this is probably one the least commercial Bowie albums available, but is the strongest of the Berlin trilogy. It also boasts the same stellar cast of contributors as last time, including Mr. Brian Eno. Now, a while back on this site, I criticised Brian unfairly, labelling him “a turnip,” which was wrong of me. I also left out the phrase “implacable music visionary” and “haughty slaphead,” which are equally important when understanding his genius. Bowie is clearly taken by his revolutionary ambient work, and here tosses his own hat into the ambient and electronica ring with mixed results. As far as the more listener-friendly songs are concerned, there is no denying the excellence of most of the material here and the title track is truly spectacular. It really is worth purchasing this record just to hear this majestic recording in all its unedited glory.
The remainder of the material on this album is, well… a mixed affair. The Berlin trilogy catches Bowie and his visionary mates at the height of their powers, and for each up-tempo rocker such as ‘Beauty and the Beast,’ he tosses out indulgent no-wave, ambient tracks such as the koto-driven ‘Moss Garden.’ This is no reason to lament, however, as many of these instrumental pieces are captivating and only two could be called missteps or duds, namely the interminable ‘Neukoln.’ There is no question of their influence, but for the listener seeking gems of Bowie brilliance almost thirty years on may find themselves disillusioned by such wanton experimentalism. With ‘Blackout,’ you will either lunge for the fast forward button or jive along to the haywire melody, and the Florian Schneider tribute ‘V-2 Schneider’ will remind you why David should leave this sort of thing to Kraftwerk. Little gorgeous gems such as ‘Sense of Doubt’ are worth listening to, anyway, and ‘Heroes’ is still a consistently strong piece of work, if not an utterly essentially record in his oeuvre. The band consists of Carlos Alomar, Dennis Davis, George Murray, Brian Eno, Robert Fripp, Tony Visconti and Antonia Maass and was recorded in 1978 at Hansa by the Wall, Berlin.
1. Beauty and the Beast (3:35)
One popular favourite on compilation albums, this is a straightforward Bowie classic in every sense of the phrase. With some disjointed keyboard jangles over Davis’ percussion, the rising wails of Fripp’s distinctive guitar, the track builds lightly towards its explosive first verse. Bowie croons disturbingly as the instrumentation increases, Murray’s bass rasping beneath his crisp baritone and the drums surging him forward. “Weaving down a highroad singing The Song/ That’s my kind of byroad gone wrong,” he begins, his vocals extremely warped in the mix and almost grabbing the listener by the throat. The heavy guitar drags the listener into the chorus, with Antonia Maass providing hysterical backing vocals and Bowie keeping himself endearingly robotic, warning us “someone could get skinned.” Which is one hell of a warning. He interchanges his voice from an American accent to a British one throughout the album, and this track feels like some haywire hybrid of his ‘Young Americans’ soul work and the sleazy hard rock of ‘Scary Monsters.’ Eno treats us to many synthesizer solos throughout, although the screeching guitar of Mr. Fripp truly dominates the proceedings and he has no problem creating some dystopian landscape of crazy, bacchanalian robots via his principal instrument. The first modulation of the track is signposted clearly in advance, and the straightforward little shifts and endless blipping around Bowie’s vocals create a sleazy but entirely enchanting track. The chorus is the obvious highlight here, anyway, and although Bowie is clearly not pushing his lyrical capabilities, it is still an incredibly enjoyable piece of music. Wow…
2. Joe The Lion (3:06)
A more by-the-numbers slab of heavy rock, this kicks off with some freestyling on the rhythm guitar from Alomar, before Fripp joins in and provides the very Reed-influenced riffs and fiddly solos. Goodness knows what this track is actually about, as Bowie leaps from odd lines about the titular character such as “he was a fortune teller” to “you will be like your dreams tonight” and howls at the moon several times in between. Not his finest set of lyrics, one has to say, but the emphasis here seems to be on the repeated words in large capitals; the moments where the backing vocals surge through his punchy and intense delivery and hit like a baseball bat to the pate. Actually, this is closer to garage rock than anything else, despite several odd little phrases from Eno. The first of which involves a keyboard solo at the premier bridge before leaping back into a verse and a chorus which sound almost sutured together. It’s all a little bit ramshackle, and Bowie is clearly just having a gas leaping around in front of the microphone here, meaning this has more in common with the punk movement than most of his work from around this period. Tony Visconti provides some high-pitched backing vocals as the track closes with his pleas of: “Joe the lion, made of iron!” Good fun.
3. Heroes (6:08)
Well, now… how long have we got? It is impossible for this humble reviewer to do justice to this mighty anthem in words alone, but I shall give it a spirited punt all the same. My knowledge of historical and technological information regarding Bowie’s music is not exceptional, but one fact I do know about this track is that Bowie was given about eight microphones to record his vocals. That would easily explain why he sounds like the messiah on Mt. Sinai imparting his words below, and why every single exaggerated syllable of his performance is utterly mesmerising from beginning to end. Everything is perfect about this track, and it is the sole reason why the Eno and Bowie partnership proved to be one of the most successful in history of music. The bass and drums enter instantly here, along with the sky-high guitars and soaring synthesizers while Bowie calmly declares: “I will be king and you will be queen.” If at this stage in the track you do not have goose bumps, then you are clearly inhuman or just deaf.
The guitar work here from Fripp is absolutely incredible, and although most of the music runs continuously throughout the track and serves as a bed for Bowie, each note shall forever be ensconced into the memories of most music lovers. All of the sweeping modulations are all glorious, and the screeching guitar running the high, wailing note throughout the entire track pushes the song into immortal status. The verses here are calm and poignant, but it is at the choruses where the track really ascends into the dimension of unequivocal genius, with Bowie declaring the most uplifting sentiment ever heard in a song: “We can be heroes, just for one day.” It almost seems his response to Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ in many respects, but I would argue that this far outshines ever that breathtaking composition. He needs no trite, hippy sentiments to make his point, and does so with pure drama and utterly electrifying song writing.
The said drama of this track is truly unparalleled. Bowie and his band build the tension up slowly across the three main verses, with each new verse actually just a touch louder than the previous. The tragedy and drama conjured up by the guitar here is, well, I hate to sound hackneyed, but of Shakespearean proportions, and it builds towards a breathtaking final two minutes through the strained, powerful pleas from the darkest recesses of Bowie’s soul. This final verse incorporates some backing vocals from Visconti, who harmonises over Bowie’s earth-shaking final pleas of: “And the shame was on your side! Oh, we can beat them forever and ever! Then we can be heroes, just for one day!” Oh… yes, yes! The track then ends with the finest denouement to one of the best tracks ever, as drops the chorus into an anthemic chant in the last minute, ideal for singing along to and thanking God you’re alive and Eno and Bowie found each other. This remains quite unmatched as an anthem of live-affirming beauty and power, and is simply the finest track Bowie ever committed to disc without question. Sensational, and quite honestly, justification enough for seeking out this album.
4. Sons of the Silent Age (3:17)
Nothing can really top the previous track, and Bowie et al don’t attempt to; instead moving the album off entirely into an experimental territory. This eerie prog-rocker has some of the Spanish influence of the final track, and conjures up the paranoia of ‘Diamond Dogs’ more than anything else. From the off, we are introduced to Bowie’s saxophone over some distressingly off-key, but not really off-key guitars which create a mysterious and panicky sound before the first verse. Right through, the vocals and arrangements are very odd, and sound at their most technologically enhanced, with overdubs of vocals sprouting up all over the place and manifold computerised syncopations. Bowie’s main vocals are robotic again and accompanied by a wash of otherworldly snyths and guitars, allowing him to jump into his hysterical chorus over some noisome harmonies and muffled saxophone solos. Most of the music veers off into impromptu chord changes, odd passages where Bowie reverts to doing that weird thing he likes so well, and he deploys head-scratching lyrics right the way through: “The sons of the silent age listen to tracks by Sam Therapy and King Dice/ Sons of the silent age pick up in bars and cry only once.” While in Berlin, I suppose. Plenty of the track is dominated by some fabulous crooning, however, and although the proceedings here are unusual this is still an incredibly strong track for all its peculiarity. If you aren’t prepared to accept weirdness with your Bowie, you really should take up Neil Young or someone instead.
5. Blackout (3:48)
This pushes that weirdness barrier slightly and almost crosses the line into indulgent, brain-lacerating racket. I reckon it just about holds itself together as a track, but many would probably disagree with me. Over some splintered guitar work from Alomar and Fripp, the drums and bass bounce into what sounds like another warped soul composition, mercilessly savaged by synthesizers and ringing walls of feedback. Bowie’s voice has been tampered with once more, singing his track through a plastic bag rather than a microphone, and the structure is ramshackle right the way through. The deafening guitars and screeching high notes dominate here, as do the layers of backing vocals and furtive keyboard plonks; meaning nothing much is safe from the onslaught of the band. All this colourful instrumentation allows Bowie to go off into weird, almost nonsensical little rants such as: “Get me to the doctor, I’ve been told the someone’s back in town/ The chips are down, I just cut and black out/ I’m under Japanese influence and my honour’s at stake.” Tony Visconti provides some high-pitched backing vocals again while the final half awkwardly shuffles into an agreeable rocker which boasts more of a glam rock stomp to it than the previous material (albeit submerged beneath layers of Eno synth and gratuitous Frippertronics). Will not impressive everyone.
6. V-2 Schneider (3:10)
The first of four instrumentals, this one deploys a heavy bass line over the soaring clamour of screechy, growling guitars, squished saxophones and synthesizers which hit the listener at first like a bloody tidal wave. Upon first listen, it will probably have you tossing a shoe towards the stereo, but as it drifts towards its middle section, these layers of synthesisers and the impressive guitar work make it something of a quietly captivating number. Then again, you may just want to hurl a shoe at the stereo. I wouldn’t blame you. Bowie cheats towards the end by actually incorporating his vocals into the track; just before one moody wave of Fripp’s guitar swamps the entire listener and it fades out rather unspectacularly. Completely unmemorable.
7. Sense of Doubt (3:57)
The final three instrumentals function as one lengthy piece, and the first two are sublime and haunting compositions which deserve a listen even from those prone to eschewing all this experimental stuff. This piece is terrific, but if you are not a fan of spooky, experimental ambient music, then it may not win you over. Here, the synthesizer rises majestically over repeated discordant plonks on the piano, while some odd keyboard blipping and the distant sound of wind blows throughout the track. Towards the second minute, the snyth rises and the piece soars into a truly breathtaking dimension; achieving a similar power to the ‘Warszawa’ composition from ‘Low.’ Bowie makes some disconcerting croaking sounds throughout, and this track alone sets the blueprint for the entire 1970s no-wave movement in just under four minutes. The way in which the piece actually manages to reach some hauntingly powerful crescendo when it seems nothing has actually happened at all is a testament to the bleak, sparse beauty of this piece, and reinforces Bowie’s brilliance as a musical artist.
8. Moss Garden (5:04)
Here, the “Japanese influence” Bowie was singing about emerges in the form of a koto, which sounds like some Japanese equivalent to the harp or the lyre and it makes a rather pretty sound so don’t panic. The wind noises are replaced by some outdated storm effects before the track swiftly enters extremely ambient territory indeed. Here the snyths just provide a glowing bed for the koto, giving a portrait of the sun rising over the Tokyo skyline instead of the Berlin one, but it is pleasant all the same. There is no real melody on this koto; Bowie just plucks it rather arbitrarily for the five minute duration and allows the mellow sounds to drift around him, occasionally interrupted by the moody splash of distant gongs, the subdued birdsong from plovers outside and a very otherworldly bass. It fails to achieve the gentle power as the previous piece, but is a moody and engaging track nonetheless.
9. Neukoln (4:32)
Presumably named after some seedy borough in Berlin, or just a random street, this is just something Bowie bashed out to fill the required number of tracks for an album. Over some drowned percussion noises, which sound more like slot machines puttering out, the brooding city skyline of Berlin is capably captured with this piece of hideous screeching nonsense. This instrumental sounds like it inspired the entire recorded works of Lydia Lunch, and although it is dark, menacing and spooky, it is also unforgivably indulgent and sluggish. It is, well… pap. Even if you are tolerant to the other instrumentals here, this one pulls the album down entirely and stops any last-minute flashes of genius from shining through, losing itself in the realms of self-aggrandising ambient mediocrity. Write some proper songs, please David. The final thirty seconds are just Bowie and his sax wailing awfully, but it cuts out just before that headache takes hold.
10. The Secret Life of Arabia (3:45)
One feels Carlos Alomar contributed the most to this track, given how it is his rhythm guitar which chugs the melody and his country of origin is from where the music derives. Still, Eno and Bowie get two thirds of the credit as well so he shouldn’t feel so smug. That, and the fact it is not a terrific piece of music, anyway. The choruses once more would appear to be the highlight, coupled with Alomar’s Egyptian guitar phrases and Bowie’s top shelf crooning (and boy does he croon here). This closer actually brings to mind the '1984' composition from ‘Diamond Dogs’ and given how I loathed said track, this one does not do a great deal for me. Still, it is agreeable enough, despite the fact Bowie sounds rather fed up throughout and the fact the song aspires to be nothing more than an unspectacular album closer. ‘The Secret Life of Arabia’ is truly happy to limit itself to the world of repetitive choruses, unnecessary vocal overdubs and hand claps. Not quite the mini-anthem it wants to be, but at least it is not an instrumental and ends the album on a dignified and eerie note.
David Bowie: Heroes (40:36)
So that brings us towards the end of the review. I think this is a fair and balanced interpretation of what seemed like a rather testing and arduous process for all those involved. The album shots inside all show Bowie chain-smoking or burying his head in his hands, alluding perhaps to the fact this was not the easiest record to make, although the results are a testament to all their hard work. There are times here when the music feels as though it is being pulled from him when he doesn’t want to let it go, but mainly it breathes, quite steadily, incredible influence and phenomenal power. Plus, you have to admire that outstanding title track; it truly is a quite sensational experience and one of his greatest achievements, not to say one of mankind’s greatest achievements. If you were only to pick up one record from the Berlin trilogy, there is a great argument in favour of ‘Low,’ but I reckon this just clinches it on the title track alone. ‘Heroes’ may have been another Bowie masterpiece at the time, but now it is just almost another Bowie masterpiece, with some of its power ravaged through time.
Gratuitous Bowie Sycophancy #12:
Lodger (1979): http://www.epinions.com/content_264565329540
Gratuitous Bowie Sycophancy #10:
Low (1977): http://www.epinions.com/content_298902130308
Recommended:
Yes
Great Music to Play While: Driving
|
|
|
|
Epinions.com ID:
brian_lettsin
|
|
Member: Harold Pumiceous
Reviews written: 300
Trusted by: 50 members
About Me:
Never go outside. There are bad things there.
|
|
|
![Heroes [Remaster] by David Bowie](http://di1.shopping.com/images1/pi/2d/28/c3/2006763380-177x150-0-0.jpg)
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.