His best since “Scary Monsters”, or… “Reality”

I’ve been following David Bowie’s career avidly since 1993 or so. As anyone who follows Bowie knows, it was widely assumed – until his 66th birthday this past January – that DB had silently retired. It’s been a full decade since his last studio effort, 2003’s Reality, 9 years since he abruptly cut his last tour short due to emergency heart surgery, and 2006 since his last public performance.* Rumors that he was dying were common. As it turns out, it’s not true, and on his 66th birthday Bowie announced the release of his new album, The Next Day, the product of recording sessions held secretly over the last 2 years working with a cast of familiar Bowie sidemen and producer Tony Visconti.

I’ve had the good fortunate to listen to an MP3 copy of The Next Day for the last week – a real change from my “preview copy” of Outside back in September of 1995, which was a nth generation cassette copy of part of the album snail-mailed to me by a fellow fan – and I have only good things to say about it. With The Next Day, Bowie’s delivered a coherent, lyrically and musically engaging record that has no obvious weak spots; it holds up well to repeat listening. Sonically, I hear a lot of Lodger (especially on things like “The Dirty Boys”), and bits of “Heroes” (from where the new album appropriates its artwork), and published reviews have drawn many of the same parallels. Like other reviewers, I also hear Scott Walker’s “The Electrician” echoed clearly in “Heat” (sonically and lyrically), and I hear the (multiple) references to the Ziggy Stardust album in “You Feel So Lonely You Could Die”.

Inevitably, as with every Bowie release since 1980, some are calling it his best since Scary Monsters; while I think the new record sounds great, I’ll need a few years to determine whether or not I think this is true – no small thing. But there are plenty of post-1980 contenders for this title now, including Outside, Heathen, Reality, and perhaps even the The Buddha of Suburbia soundtrack. Likewise, each new Bowie release since (at least) the 80s leaves reviewers trying to find a “classic” Bowie album to which is sounds similar, often making simplistic comparisons that do a disservice to everything that’s innovative or interesting in the new release, like saying Black Tie White Noise was the new Let’s Dance, Outside was the Berlin trilogy redux, and (most galling to me) that Hours was a return to the songwriting style of Hunky Dory. (In that last case, it’s definitely the newer release that suffers (terribly) by comparison). My memory of “new” Bowie releases only goes back to the 90s, but presumably when Tonight came out they were saying it was the new Young Americans, too.

Yet the most obvious point of comparison for The Next Day is one I don’t see reviewers making: Reality. While it’s been a decade since that record, it features the same producer and much of the same crew. (In fact, along with Heathen, this constitutes a 2nd Visconti-produced trilogy, though not sure there is a nickname or misnomer like “The Berlin Trilogy” to describe them… any suggestions?). To my ears, The Next Day hews closely to the template laid-out by Reality.

Both albums start with uptempo, anthemic, somewhat sinister tracks, with “New Killer Star” and “The Next Day”. To my ears, they have very similar rhythm tracks. Both albums ruminate on fame, with  ironic tones, at track #3, with “Never Get Old” and “The Stars (Are Out Tonight)”. Both albums feature introspective ballads relatively early in the running order, though Reality’s “The Loneliest Guy” is less specific about its setting than “Where Are We Now?” (but both are clearly set in urban environments). “You Feel So Lonely You Could Die” seems to be the showstopper right before the quiet dénouement of “Heat”; in this, I hear a mirror to “Try Some, Buy Some” and “Bring Me the Disco King”, though the latter pairing is interrupted by what always felt like (to me) the incongruous title track of Reality.** “Heat” and “Bring Me the Disco King” are an obvious, brooding pairing to close out each album.***

There are some other (to me) likely pairings between the two albums, though not quite as overt as those I identified above, like “Love is Lost” and “Looking for Water” (tempo, relative positive in the running order) or “Valentine’s Day” and “Days” (again, tempo – not topic material – and position in running ordr). Finally, while not loved by all, the highlight of Reality for me was probably Bowie’s reworking of The Modern Lover’s “Pablo Picasso”, with its wild sonics, slotted in the #2 spot on the record. While “The Dirty Boys” doesn’t have much resemblance in terms of tempo or content with “Pablo Picasso”, it does stand out on TND for interesting sonics, leading me to wonder if Bowie/Visconti think that sort of thing always goes as the #2 track an an LP, right after the catchy opener.

Is this all just coincidence? Is it an intentional formula? Or is this just a nonsense analysis? You can decide on your own, but take a second to consider Heathen against The Next Day and Reality to see how closely the latter two compare. For starters, “Sunday” is a far, far different opening than “New Killer Star”/“The Next Day”. (Or, for that matter, “Thursday’s Child”, or “Little Wonder”, or “Outside”).

In summary, I think The Next Day is overall a superior record to Reality – but ask me again in a year or two – yet  I can’t shake the idea that it’s also a conscious or semi-conscious attempt to remake/remodel Reality a decade later.

If nothing else, for critics still obsessed with 1980, it’s worth remembering that Bowie’s career from 1993 onwards (a full two decades, offering 8 official studio releases – pretty good for a guy who took 10 years off) has brought us plenty of good if not always great material. Speaking personally, if I had to divide the last 20 years up into three arbitrary categories, it would look something like this:

Great (no particular order)

The Next Day
Reality
Outside (perhaps with a few tracks relegated to b-sides)
Heathen (tough call on Good vs. Great here)

Good (no particular order)

Toy (deserves an official release)
Buddha of Suburbia
Black Tie White Noise (again – with a few tracks relegated to b-sides, including the title track)

Eh…

Earthling
Hours…

Some final thoughts relegated to footnotes:

*If you count the Tin Machine years and output, Bowie’s longest break between albums prior to this was the three years between Scary Monsters and Let’s Dance, or perhaps the three years between Hours… and Heathen, though the latter period should have included the aborted Toy album c. 2000. Point being, Bowie’s been pretty prolific since his debut back in 1967. As far as performing live goes, again including the Tin Machine years, Bowie’s longest performance break was between 1978 and 1983, unless you count a few TV show appearances in that period.

** Speaking of “You Feel So Lonely” – numerous reviews have noted the “Five Years” drumbeat that closes the track; I’m also pretty sure I hear part of the guitar line from “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” buried in the track. This reminds me of another showstopper in the second-to-last position on a Bowie LP,  “I Know It’s Gonna Happen Someday” from Black Tie White Noise. This track is a cover of a Morrissey track that openly interpolated the melody of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide”; Bowie covered the track, but omitted the reference to his own back catalog! Perhaps he’s making up for it now.

*** Like many Bowie fans, I spent the last few years assuming that “Bring Me the Disco King” would be the last song on the last new David Bowie record we’d ever get. While I’m glad that isn’t the case, it would have been a strong capstone to his career. Though the same can easily be said of “Heat”.

If you haven’t heard it yet, be sure to check out the excellent remix of “Bring Me the Disco King” that appeared on the soundtrack to Underworld around the time of the release of Reality. The rare remix that equals the original while introducing new elements.

One more thing about the Hulk

One of the criticisms of "The Hulk (2003)" was that the film completely revised the Hulk's "origin" story. Instead of being bombarded with gamma rays, Banner is the unknowing victim -- as a child -- of biological experiments conducted by his own father, David Banner. Years later, while working as a researcher (completely by coincidence) in the same field his father worked in, Bruce is exposed to radiation that triggers changes in his already-altered physiology, and thus the Hulk is born.

In the new (2008) film, this origin story is dropped, and instead during the credits we see a new origin story essentially recycling the 1970s TV show premise: That Banner bombards himself with gamma radiation as part of an experiment and that the Hulk is the unexpected outcome.

Neither of these origin stories match the original, May 1962 Marvel Comics origin story of The Incredible Hulk #1, wherein Dr. Bruce Banner is bombarded with gamma rays from a new, experimental bomb (of his own creation) while saving a teenager who has driven on to the test site as part of an initiation stunt. What's often forgotten is that this wasn't an accident; Bruce is intentionally irradiated by a fellow scientist, identified as Igor, who turns out to be a "red spy" from "beyond the Iron Curtain".


As the first issue of The Incredible Hulk winds-up, the newly-minted Hulk is sent to an unnamed country behind the Iron Curtain where he fights and cures(!) his adversary. In gratitude, his former adversary sends Banner safely back home...


Future incarnations of Dr. Banner no longer seem so concerned with "the Red tyranny".

Many Hulk fans will tell you that the Hulk was originally intended to be grey, not green, but the inker at Marvel couldn't get a consistent grey color, so from issue #2 onwards he was an easier-to-ink green. A far more interesting Hulk fact is that the Hulk used to be able to talk! And not just stuff like "Hulk smash!" and other third-person statements, but complete sentences. For example, in The Incredible Hulk #6, the Hulk fights and defeats the "Metal Master" by utilizing his rarely seen arts-n-crafts skills. Of course, the Hulk wouldn't have succeeded without help from his teenage pals, as he acknowledges at the end of the story...


Perhaps not so surprisingly, the original Incredible Hulk comic series was canceled after... issue #6.

"The Incredible Hulk (2008)" reviewed by someone who liked "The Hulk (2003)"

I saw the new Hulk film yesterday, "The Incredible Hulk". While reviews have been plentiful, I thought I'd offer my own review as someone who actually liked the first major-screen effort at Bruce Banner's story, the 2003 Ang Lee film "The Hulk".

Yes, I liked the 2003 Hulk. (You can watch a trailer for that film here). As someone who read Marvel comics fanatically c. 1986/7, I know enough about the Hulk to know that the film took wide liberties with Bruce Banner's back story. But I thought the end result mostly justified the means, even if I had trouble seeing the point of a plot featuring "Hulk dogs" and Nick Nolte as a man obsessed with "power" in the least-concrete sense possible (in fairness, the latter trait is shared by far too many villains in superhero films). On the plus side, Lee did an amazing job casting the Hulk story for what it is: a tragedy about a man consumed by forces beyond his control. In Eric Bana, Jennifer Connelly, and Sam Elliott, he assembled a stellar cast that in itself highlighted a recurring problem with other recent Marvel-based films like "Daredevil"and "The Fantastic Four". Bana in particular gave root to the Hulk's innate loneliness and made his lifetime of tragedies believable. While the film had plenty of action, it was perceived as "too cerebral", and despite fairly impressive box office returns, the general public got the impression that "The Hulk (2003)" was a failure. That's a shame, because it's probably the best Marvel-based film yet aside from "Spider-Man 2", and it's unquestionably superior to unwatchable dreck like 2005's "The Fantastic Four", which nonetheless generated a sequel.

At the end of "The Hulk", Bruce Banner is last seen hiding out in the rain forests of South America. At the beginning of "The Incredible Hulk", Banner is now living in the slums of Rio -- also located in South America -- and that's the only connection you'll find with the previous Hulk film. All three principals have been repaced (General Ross now played by William Hurt; Betty Ross -- now going by "Elizabeth" -- by Liv Tyler; and most notably as Banner), and in fact the entire origin story of "The Hulk" is wiped out during the opening credits with a new origin story closer in nature to the 1970s television show starring Bill Bixby* than the original Marvel storyline. Banner spends his time working a bottling plant, practicing Portugese by watching reruns of "The Courtship of Eddie's Father" (among other things), and working to suppress his inner Hulk. He's also trading emails with a researcher, "Mr. Blue", who thinks he may be able to "cure" Banner. This plotline drives banner back to the US, back to his old lab, back to Betty, and back into conflict with General Ross and the US army. Ross, meanwhile, wants to study Banner to help develop a team of "super-soldiers". As the film progresses, a mercenary with a bone to pick with Banner named Emil Blonsky gets the opportunity to become a "super-soldier", with unpleasant results for everyone involved (especially the neighborhood of Harlem -- there go many years of urban planning and gentrification).

Marvel is taking fewer chances with this film. Aside from Betty's difficult relationship with her Hulk-hunting father, there's no overt Oedipal complex underpinning this effort (Banner's family is never even mentioned); instead, it's all leading up to the near-standard super-powered showdown on the streets of New York City - just like any of the Spider-Man films**, "Daredevil", "The Fantastic Four", multiple X-Men films, etc. Along the way, we get a few pitched battles between the military and the Hulk. Unlike the last film, Hulk seems more inclined to fight than flee. He also seems to have more self-control than in the previous film, and manages to speak a few lines along the way. When the film ends, we're left with the possibility that Banner may actually be gaining control over his future transformations.

One of the biggest criticisms of the first Hulk film was that the CGI was poor. It's true that the Hulk looks a bit better this time -- his skin and famous shorts are both more natural -- but honestly, neither looks all that realistic. Good moviegoers still need to be able to suspend their disbelief for a few hours. (Incidentally, why did reviewers give the 2003 CGI Hulk such a tough time, while never remarking on the unbelievably fake troll & Harry combo in the first Harry Potter film?). You can see a short Reelz piece featuring clips from both films here. I thought Jennifer Connelly was a highlight of the last film, so I had low expectations for Liv Tyler, but she turns in a strong performance, as does Norton. Sam Elliott is missed; while Hurt does a decent job as General Ross, he doesn't carry the same gravitas, although some of this is no doubt due to a less believable modus operandi when compared to the previous film (he spends the film hunting Hulk, but after capturing him almost instantly frees him to fight Blonsky, now raging about as the Abomination. If you consider how many times he's eagerly sent the military against the Hulk in ultimately futile operations, it's not credible how quickly he decides that the only way to beat the Abomination is to send the Hulk in against him).

So -- does the 2008 Hulk film beat the 2003 Hulk film? My conclusion: No. The 2008 film definitely hews much more closely to the successful formula used by Marvel films in the last decade and looks and feels closer to the Hulk of comic-book fame and the Hulk of the 1970s TV series. Those aren't bad things, and they make for an enjoyable, well-structured film. But the 2003 film is something else entirely -- a more adult, more thoughtful, more ambitious film. In many ways, "The Hulk (2003)" was "ahead of its time", an expression that -- a college friend once observed -- really just means it wasn't popular.

* Bill Bixby was a great actor. Who else could make an absurd scene like this tense?

** The first Spider-Man film concludes not on the streets of New York City, or at a well-known landmark like the Statue of Liberty, but in what must certainly be Roosevelt Island's spooky Smallpox Hospital. It's never identified as such, but the geography makes sense.

14 songs you should never play in a bar

Absolutely right. Especially #7.