Wreckord Reviews: A Blackstar for a somber time

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Blackstar is the final chapter in David Bowie's epic saga.

Throughout all of his eras and personas, from the exuberant Ziggy Stardust to the understated frontman of Tin Machine, David Bowie was art. While some may argue that his musical career died a number of years ago, the legacy he left behind will continue for decades to come. On Jan. 8, David Bowie released the final chapter of this legacy, entitled Blackstar.

The album debuted on Bowie’s birthday, a mere two days before his untimely passing. He clearly knew Blackstar would be his final farewell to the world and this mindset can be clearly heard through the record’s haunting instrumentation and despairing lyricism. It’s a surreal experience, listening to an artist’s death album. To step into the mind of someone so brazenly aware of their own fragile existence is unsettling and quite moving.

Blackstar opens up with a single by the same name, “Blackstar”; a 10-minute work that can be broken up into two equally troubling sections. A somber wind and string ensemble, accompanied by discordant guitar, sets the stage for Bowie’s haunting and symbolic lyrics in the first half. The song focuses on a final candle in the centre of a city of serpents. Is it hope? Is it Bowie? Is it nonsense? Pitting this light against serpents serves as an early introduction to the biblical themes woven throughout this album.

The symbolism here is interjected in the second half of the song with Bowie’s bittersweet hope that artists will continue his experimental drive for innovation. He hopes that worthy successors will take his place and refuses to accept the sad state of today’s pop music.

While Bowie has dabbled in many genres from rock to electronica and nearly everything in between, Blackstar has a distinctive sort of jazz influence. Not the finger-snapping sort of swing jazz, more of the rainy avant-garde sort of jazz.

While Bowie has always favoured his native instrument, the saxophone, the subdued and gloomy instrumentation of this album highlights just how prevalent it is. From the dissonant and chaotic conclusion of “Blackstar”, to the atmospheric opening of “Lazarus” and the heartfelt meanderings of “Dollar Days”, the saxophone is nearly as expressive as Bowie’s own vocals.

While much of Blackstar comes across as disconcerting, “Girl Loves Me” is one of the more lyrically unsettling songs, due mostly to Bowie’s repeated question of “Where the fuck did Monday go?”

The fact that Bowie passed away on a Sunday gives this lyric an entirely new meaning. Bowie will never know that Monday, or any other Monday thereafter. The lack of any response to his question also alludes to the fact that Bowie presumed he wouldn’t be there on Monday to answer himself. Perhaps this is a simple coincidence, but you’d be hard pressed to deny its inherent eeriness.

Although the lyrics of Blackstar will be read and read again, there are two songs in particular that deserve our attention.

The first of these is “Lazarus”, the album’s second single. In this song Bowie likens himself to the biblical figure, a man that Jesus brought back from the dead. Bowie has put a number of his personas to rest over the years, only to rise again revitalized and full of new adventure.

This song shows Bowie’s battle between accepting his death and hoping to somehow escape it, just as Lazarus did.

The second song on this album that shows this inner struggle is “Dollar Days”. Bowie sings of blissful English evergreens and his desire to fool the world yet again in proclaiming his death. While Bowie shows that he doesn’t need an idea of paradise to accept his death, he repeats, “I’m dying to” for much of the song. This phrase can be taken as a primal desire to go on, to keep making music, but can also be interpreted as “I’m dying too”, an acceptance of a fate he cannot alter.

“Dollar Days” feels like a direct message from Bowie to his fans, perhaps even eclipsing his address in “Lazarus”. An apology of sorts can be found in the lyric “Don’t believe for just one second I’m forgetting about you”. This is a message that will stick with his family, friends and fans for a long time to come.

Through and through, the occult and biblical themes of this album create a tremendous amount of uncertainty and unease for listeners. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing though. Music is created to move people, not to serve as mindless background music for Walmart commercials. It’s a shame the world doesn’t have more music like the Blackstar album. This is the kind of art that makes you think, it conjures intense emotions and it carries with you long after you finish listening.

Blackstar proves that you can find beauty even in death.