Wanna know how the press treated David Bowie as if he were a racist uncle? SPIN voted him Worst Comeback in its 1995 year-en issue. Still smarting from the combination of hamhanded skronk and Thierry Mugler suits, the rock press saw no slot this year in which Bowie could thrive. Anyone with ears to tell could hear he was trying again, this time applying his melodic instincts. The concept — art crimes and dead babies or some such nonsense — focuses him and kills him. The further he strays from the narrative he insists on, the stronger the tunes. In the essential A Year with Swollen Appendices, Eno laments his erstwhile collaborator’s baroque tendencies; Eno hears quieter songs. To expect restraint from Bowie is like expecting Robert Fripp to play acoustic guitar. He required excess. The worst songs, though, collapse from concept and thesauri overcoming common sense.
For more about this album, read here.
The Voyeur of Utter Destruction
Ramona A. Stone/I Am with Name
I Have Not Been to Oxford Town
Hallo Spaceboy (Pet Shop Boys remix)
The Heart’s Filthy Lesson
We Prick You
Good to Great
Strangers When We Meet
Thru’ These Architects Eyes
A Small Plot of Land