Reality

Reciting the Lord’s Prayer at Live Aid, Tin Machine, going drum ‘n’ bass… There have been quite a few occasions since his ‘70s heyday when you’ve wanted to clip David Bowie round the ear and tell him to stop being silly.
Thankfully, Reality displays no signs of errant middle-aged behaviour and should see the Jones boy gain some new fans as well as pacifying the old ones.
Instead of trying to be self-consciously cutting edge, Bowie spends most of his 26th studio album belting out orthodox rock ‘n’ roll songs with a band that includes long-time friend, producer and vibemaster Tony Visconti.
Things get off to a sprightly start with ‘New Killer Star’, a hook-laden affair which, in true enigmatic Bowie style, may or may not be about 9/11. Ditto ‘Fall Dog Bombs The Moon’, a brooding slow-burner of a song that conjures up such poignant images as “Devil in the market place/devil in your bleeding face.”
The title-track not only finds the 56-year-old in chirpier mood, but nodding towards such former glories as ‘Panic In Detroit’ and ‘Rebel Rebel’. Add in a middle-eight that’s been purloined from Iggy & The Stooges and you’re talking about a bona fide Bowie classic.
I’m sure he’s sick to the back teeth of people comparing his new stuff to his back catalogue, but with its discordant piano and strung-out vocals, ‘Bring The Disco King’ is a ringer for ‘Aladdin Sane’.
With hair, teeth, face and waistline more or less the same as they were 30 years ago – bastard! – Bowie earns himself the right to include a song called ‘Never Going To Get Old’.
“There’s never going to be enough money/there’s never going to be enough drugs!” he proclaims in his best proto-Brett Anderson mockernee drawl.
Unfortunately, its effectiveness as a call to hedonistic arms is diluted by it currently being used to flog Vittel mineral water.
The still-Thin White Duke finally acknowledges his age on ‘Days’, a slight but nevertheless affecting “thank you” to a best friend and lover.
Bowie’s best album since Scary Monsters or not, Reality isn’t without its disappointments, the most notable being the deathly dull ‘The Loneliest Guy’. Also ill-advised are the covers of Jonathan Richman’s ‘Pablo Picasso’ and ‘Try Some, Buy Some’, a George Harrison/Ronnie Spector curiosity which is just too emotionally over-egged for its own good.
Tell you what, though, I can’t wait for those Point Theatre shows in November!