Life Changers: David Bowie - the Next Day
My father spent the best part of my growing up persuading me to listen to a broader variety of music. ‘Boy,’ he would say, ‘I despair at thebrute and uncultured claptrap you incessantly have blaring throughout my domicile.’
Ok, perhaps he didn’t phrase it like someone out of Dorian Gray, but he did keep pressuring me to ‘expand my musical horizons’ throughout my early-mid teen years when my musical discography consisted of Bring Me the Horizon, Marilyn Manson and Slipknot. Not exactly a Mercury-prize winning variation. But of course, I, being a fluorescent pubescent adolescent depressant, countered with verbose phrases as, ‘Leave me alone dad, I do what I
want.’ Oh the self-indulgent folly of youth.
On a cold day in January, I returned home from school to find my father in the throes of what I assumed to be early-encroaching senility, gibbering about ‘a new single’. My internet piracy mind-set posed the first question ‘Wot’s a single?’ Speechless, my father guided me over to the computer screen and showed me the video for ‘Where
Are We Now?’ David Bowie’s first song released since 2003’s Reality.
I was underwhelmed. It seemed like a lot of droning and sparse drumbeats to me. So I returned to the 21st century for a month or so, ignoring my father’s squeals of joy every time the fateful date of release for Bowie’s new album drew ever closer. When it finally arrived, a white square obscuring the chameleonic pop/rock/everything star’s
face in some arty metaphor I half understood (like all good advertising), I was curious. After all, there wasn’t much around to listen to at the time other than drivel on the radio and repetitive bass rumbles on the internet, so I gave
it a listen, after I had prised it from my father’s trembling hands. And my goodness was it good. I nearly spilt my cup of tea.
From the newly discovered subtle autobiographical Where Are We Now? To the foot stomping fervour of the eponymous The
Next Day, the deceptively upbeat Valentine’s Day, which turns into a ballad about a school shooting after five or so listens, the almost unbearable
bitter vulnerability of Love Is Lost, the classy stadium rock (and that Americanisation does not fully do it justice) of (You Will) Set The World On
Fire, and finally, the unutterably poignant and melancholic The Stars (Are Out Tonight).
It’s safe to say this album changed how I thought about music, to say the least. From that moment on, my iTunes library grew to include music
(which I had previously dismissed as rubbish), from the likes of Canned Heat and Creedence Clearwater Revival, to The Human League and The Smiths, to Radiohead and Prefab Sprout. And of course, nearly everything Bowie ever recorded. The Next Day opened the doors of perception where music is concerned, and one day I hope to introduce others to the joys of music outside of their comfort zone, as it comes with immeasurable returns.
Article by Edric Eastaugh
Y13
Ok, perhaps he didn’t phrase it like someone out of Dorian Gray, but he did keep pressuring me to ‘expand my musical horizons’ throughout my early-mid teen years when my musical discography consisted of Bring Me the Horizon, Marilyn Manson and Slipknot. Not exactly a Mercury-prize winning variation. But of course, I, being a fluorescent pubescent adolescent depressant, countered with verbose phrases as, ‘Leave me alone dad, I do what I
want.’ Oh the self-indulgent folly of youth.
On a cold day in January, I returned home from school to find my father in the throes of what I assumed to be early-encroaching senility, gibbering about ‘a new single’. My internet piracy mind-set posed the first question ‘Wot’s a single?’ Speechless, my father guided me over to the computer screen and showed me the video for ‘Where
Are We Now?’ David Bowie’s first song released since 2003’s Reality.
I was underwhelmed. It seemed like a lot of droning and sparse drumbeats to me. So I returned to the 21st century for a month or so, ignoring my father’s squeals of joy every time the fateful date of release for Bowie’s new album drew ever closer. When it finally arrived, a white square obscuring the chameleonic pop/rock/everything star’s
face in some arty metaphor I half understood (like all good advertising), I was curious. After all, there wasn’t much around to listen to at the time other than drivel on the radio and repetitive bass rumbles on the internet, so I gave
it a listen, after I had prised it from my father’s trembling hands. And my goodness was it good. I nearly spilt my cup of tea.
From the newly discovered subtle autobiographical Where Are We Now? To the foot stomping fervour of the eponymous The
Next Day, the deceptively upbeat Valentine’s Day, which turns into a ballad about a school shooting after five or so listens, the almost unbearable
bitter vulnerability of Love Is Lost, the classy stadium rock (and that Americanisation does not fully do it justice) of (You Will) Set The World On
Fire, and finally, the unutterably poignant and melancholic The Stars (Are Out Tonight).
It’s safe to say this album changed how I thought about music, to say the least. From that moment on, my iTunes library grew to include music
(which I had previously dismissed as rubbish), from the likes of Canned Heat and Creedence Clearwater Revival, to The Human League and The Smiths, to Radiohead and Prefab Sprout. And of course, nearly everything Bowie ever recorded. The Next Day opened the doors of perception where music is concerned, and one day I hope to introduce others to the joys of music outside of their comfort zone, as it comes with immeasurable returns.
Article by Edric Eastaugh
Y13