What's a reliable way to kick a Heculean cocaine addiction? If you're David Bowie, you move to West Berlin, team up with ambient minimalist Brian Eno, assemble some keyboards and synthesizers, and you release Low.
Let me start by stating what Low isn't: There are no songs about freaky aliens, life on Mars, or thin white dukes. At no point in this album did Bowie make a suggestion resembling anything near 'Let's Dance.' However, it's important to bear in mind what Bowie was up to during the recording of this album. The time leading up to Low apparently marked a difficult point in Bowie's career. Between 1975 and 1977, Bowie struggled with his substance abuse problems, starred in The Man Who Fell to Earth, and prepared a soundtrack for said film that was unceremoniously rejected. Bowie soon after found himself as a resident of West Berlin, sharing an apartment with Iggy Pop, sober, in possession of a batch of unused instrumental songs, and immersed in the proto-German-electronic music scene (think Kraftwerk). And so, the era of Bowie's career referred to as 'The Berlin Trilogy' begins...
What can one expect from Low? Good ideas on side A -- great ideas, actually. In fact, from 'Breaking Glass' through 'Be Me Wife,' the album flowed with consistent buoyancy, even though the lyrics hovered somewhere between morose and utterly incomprehensible. The trouble is, as soon as a song started to gain some steam, it would end or fade out 1.5 to 2 verses in. Specifically, 'Sound and Vision,' which could very well be one of the best songs of Bowie's career, is a painful tease -- so catchy, yet so incomplete.
Which brings me to the other half of this album, the instrumentals...all six of them. For those who don't know the aforementioned Brian Eno, he likes keyboards and he likes employing those keyboards for experimental ambient boopity boops. For some, this could be a recipe for an abysmal disaster, but it ended up being the solidifying statement of the album for me.
Surely there had to be an explanation for such an unconventional move. Supposedly, these instrumental tracks were inspired by Bowie's experiences in Warsaw and Berlin. Although I did not know about Bowie's time in Europe, cocaine addiction, or failed soundtrack at first, once I did, my album experience vastly improved. I can appreciate what was going on here -- this album plays like an unedited purge of creativity and healing, kind of like an amplified diary. It's rough, but Low finds strength in its emotional evocation.
However, to get to a meaningful place with Low, I had to spend some time contemplating the album and scouring various online articles and interviews for some much needed subtext. Time well spent in the end, but Low may be unfulfilling for some who have difficulty finding an entry point. Once I found mine, I could appreciate the album for its unapologetically honest nature, as well as the moment in time it captures. And when it comes to David Bowie, Low's moment is simply one of the many comprising his ever-changing career. A challenging, yet endearing oddity? Yes. But you know Bowie -- that's how he likes to werk it.
Let me start by stating what Low isn't: There are no songs about freaky aliens, life on Mars, or thin white dukes. At no point in this album did Bowie make a suggestion resembling anything near 'Let's Dance.' However, it's important to bear in mind what Bowie was up to during the recording of this album. The time leading up to Low apparently marked a difficult point in Bowie's career. Between 1975 and 1977, Bowie struggled with his substance abuse problems, starred in The Man Who Fell to Earth, and prepared a soundtrack for said film that was unceremoniously rejected. Bowie soon after found himself as a resident of West Berlin, sharing an apartment with Iggy Pop, sober, in possession of a batch of unused instrumental songs, and immersed in the proto-German-electronic music scene (think Kraftwerk). And so, the era of Bowie's career referred to as 'The Berlin Trilogy' begins...
What can one expect from Low? Good ideas on side A -- great ideas, actually. In fact, from 'Breaking Glass' through 'Be Me Wife,' the album flowed with consistent buoyancy, even though the lyrics hovered somewhere between morose and utterly incomprehensible. The trouble is, as soon as a song started to gain some steam, it would end or fade out 1.5 to 2 verses in. Specifically, 'Sound and Vision,' which could very well be one of the best songs of Bowie's career, is a painful tease -- so catchy, yet so incomplete.
Which brings me to the other half of this album, the instrumentals...all six of them. For those who don't know the aforementioned Brian Eno, he likes keyboards and he likes employing those keyboards for experimental ambient boopity boops. For some, this could be a recipe for an abysmal disaster, but it ended up being the solidifying statement of the album for me.
Surely there had to be an explanation for such an unconventional move. Supposedly, these instrumental tracks were inspired by Bowie's experiences in Warsaw and Berlin. Although I did not know about Bowie's time in Europe, cocaine addiction, or failed soundtrack at first, once I did, my album experience vastly improved. I can appreciate what was going on here -- this album plays like an unedited purge of creativity and healing, kind of like an amplified diary. It's rough, but Low finds strength in its emotional evocation.
However, to get to a meaningful place with Low, I had to spend some time contemplating the album and scouring various online articles and interviews for some much needed subtext. Time well spent in the end, but Low may be unfulfilling for some who have difficulty finding an entry point. Once I found mine, I could appreciate the album for its unapologetically honest nature, as well as the moment in time it captures. And when it comes to David Bowie, Low's moment is simply one of the many comprising his ever-changing career. A challenging, yet endearing oddity? Yes. But you know Bowie -- that's how he likes to werk it.
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