By my reckoning this is edition, or if you like episode, 14 of my current “Random Bowie” series, then. That’s a guestimate on me doing one a month since January 2017, look you see. Now is the time, in football commentary parlance, to “mix it up” a bit and do an album which is not an official David Bowie album, despite it arguably (if not plain quite clearly) being “the most David Bowie album” ever to exist. Yes, his second release of 1993 is the topic here, The Buddha Of Suburbia.
Quick fire, fantastic facts? Well, sure. According to the commonly agreed, standard way of counting them, this record is not an official David Bowie studio album. It was classified as an “original soundtrack” release, and so apparently does not get counted in his list of solo records. This, ladies and gentlemen, is despite only the titular song of the record actually appearing on the soundtrack for the TV adaptation of the novel from where the name comes. But we will get to that.
This record came out in late 1993, not too long after the celebrated Black Tie White Noise. Having released no new solo material in his own name since 1987, I suppose you could say “how very David Bowie” of him to release two albums of new recordings in the same year. With The Buddha Of Suburbia, however, there was none of the marketing or advertising budget that graced the launch of Black Tie White Noise. It’s close to 25 years later, but from what I remember the only reason I knew of this one existing at the time was a “mention its release in passing” sort of column filler note in one edition of NME.
So, we have a relatively obscure release, not classified as a Bowie solo album, put out in the shadow of a celebrated and well publicised release by the same artist. One song, again the titular track, was released as a single, and for a number of reasons that single did not do so well at all. If we add in that the TV series it ostensibly suggested it was a soundtrack for wasn’t widely watched and is seldom referenced in the present day, why bother with this record? Because of the record.
I am aware that one or two people do regard this as their favourite Bowie album. One person in particular spoke passionately about it in that “i” newspaper, the one what I think is all that is left of the Independent. For me it would be a but precious to say it’s my personal favourite, but it would be in my top five. No, I have no idea what my all time favourite Bowie album is.
To the best of my knowledge I’ve only been told off for two things across these Random Bowie posts. That was for not “tagging” the posts so people could see them all (fixed) and for sometimes not really looking at the actual music on the album being discussed (partially fixed). So let me start with the latter, then.
Rather surprisingly this album was not described by critics as “his best and most important work since Scary Monsters”. That, mostly, is because it was an album that didn’t get reviewed on release. Bowie is quoted as saying he is only aware of one review from the time. I suspect there were more, but then again not exceeding a handful. The low budget and no marketing might well have meant that review copies weren’t ever actually sent out.
How best to describe the music? I quite like describing it as The Bowie Bridge. For me, at least, the record does an astonishing, and perhaps accidental, job of seamlessly blending Bowie’s more accessible, commercial sound with his more creative, exploratory and challenging works. In this, it echoes Low and “heroes” with a combination of sensational “standard” songs and thought provoking instrumental work.
To start with the easiest listening, then. The title song is a classic Bowie single. Whilst efforts were made to promote it as such, they were doomed to fail. In his two biggest markets, the UK and the USA, it simply didn’t get aired. There was reluctance to play it on radio or TV in the UK due to David swearing in the song (the brilliant line “can’t tell the bullsh!t from the lies”), whilst in the USA all and sundry refused to broadcast the video because it featured Bowie smoking a cigarette.
In terms of the song, it features twice here. Firstly in its original format (and indeed the only song on the soundtrack album that was actually on the soundtrack of the TV series), and then at the end with a certain Lenny Kravitz (as in the Lenny Kravitz) doing the guitar. It’s an affectionate and sentimental song, revealing Bowie’s passion for his London origins. For me it’s probably second only to Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks in terms of being the greatest love letter a pop star ever wrote for London. As in, when you hear it, a little part of you wishes you were born and raised in London so that you could feel the sense of love the song evokes anyway.
You might be surprised to learn, here in 2018, that the above were barriers to playing a David Bowie song. 1993 was different. Bowie’s stock was, perhaps, at its lowest. No solo material for 6 years, the 1990 Sound & Vision greatest hits shenanigans was interpreted as a bowing out retirement and the lack of love for Tin Machine meant that he was simply not a “big name” any more. It is hard to imagine now, but yes, the range of artists working and releasing in the early 90s meant that the music industry could indeed simply dismiss Bowie as something of a “has been”.
One of my all time favourite Bowie songs (of all time, in a Smashie and Nicey follow up voice) is on this album. That would be Strangers When We Meet. I remember clearly the first time my CD got to this track. Whatever I was doing as I listened (probably writing a letter to someone), when this came on my ears immediately perked up as it sounded special from the start. After that it got very special indeed. It’s just beautiful. Here, on the album, in its original form, it is amazing. Bowie clearly loved it too, as he “saved” it from being entirely overlooked – a slower tempo re-recording features as the last track of Outside, and was released as a single. David Bowie wanted the world to hear this wonderful song, and he was quite right to push it in that direction.
There’s not a bad song, then. From the energetic Dead Against It to the enigmatic Bleed Like A Craze, Dad, they are all strong and successful songs – yes, perhaps the best he had done in a long, long time.
One of the most interesting things about the songs on The Buddha Of Suburbia is how much of them "reference", or if you like "borrow" or if we are honest "steal" from moments in his career. There are one or two blatant examples, but mostly David took from rather more obscure tunes. Easter Eggs for the fans, maybe, or perhaps him highlighting songs he wanted to be heard.
With respect to the above point, I really would not wish to spoil the Easter Egg hunt. To give you one clue, then, yes - the last part of the title track, The Buddha Of Suburbia, does indeed sound very much like the end of All The Madmen from The Man Who Sold The World. But go, have fun finding all the other references.
In some instances the lyrics are there because, in sort of his own words, Bowie simply liked the sound of them. A case in point, or if you like example, would be the quasi raunchy Sex And The Church, where the only words sung are (as far as I can work out) the title.
Of the three ostensible instrumentals, well, I am reluctant to stamp any sort of comment, let alone interpretation on them. My view would be it is better for you, everyone, to listen to them and explore them for yourself. At face value they are works of music that Bowie liked the sound of, leaving them open to interpretation by the audience. Yes, for me they are excellent works. For those reluctant to explore albums that have a complex and heavy reputation – Low, for instance – they show that such works are accessible and never short of interesting. All I can add is a bit of trivia. One of the instrumentals is called Ian Fish, UK Heir. No, there is no character called Ian Fish in The Buddha Of Suburbia – the title is an anagram of Hanif Kureishi, the author of the novel.
I take my hat off to Hanif Kureishi, then. Not everyone over the years impressed, or made that much of an impression on, David Bowie to the extent that they were given a positive namecheck in song.
The music alone, to me, makes The Buddha Of Suburbia an essential to hear and own David Bowie album and I simply do not care that it is not classified as an official David Bowie album. Oddly, though, that’s not even the true goldmine of this release, at least not for many. Instead, the most priceless aspect of this record is the linear notes that came with some versions.
My understanding – mostly from the linear notes looked at just now – is that the songs on The Buddha Of Suburbia are composed from the actual soundtrack Bowie composed and contributed to the TV show. Thus far the actual soundtrack, as in the music which appeared on the show, has not been released. Which makes it all the more baffling that this record is classified as the “original soundtrack”.
In other posts I’ve commented on why we didn’t ever get a David Bowie autobiography. To recap, his expressed view was that anyone remotely interested should just look at the many unofficial and unauthorized biographies, find the one that they found the most interesting or appealing, assume that it was true and just get on with their lives. And yet here, in the linear notes, we get an astonishing, unprompted and unsolicited essay from Bowie that has him giving us, the simple fans, an incredible insight into his passions, the way he works and the way he feels about certain things. Or felt, at the least, in 1993.
For some reason various releases of The Buddha Of Suburbia over the years have dropped this essay. Bizarre, and to counter that I have previously scanned it all in and added it to this blog. Should I remember to do so when I edit and publish, the link to those scans should be somewhere around here. They are well worth your time reading.
Earlier I mentioned the idea that this album was The Bowie Bridge. I think I stand by that. There are many, a generation or two different from mine, who are coming to Bowie and starting to discover his work. Embracing this record is indeed the bridge which crosses over from quite liking most if not all of his well known stuff to discovering, loving and embracing the many, many hidden gems which are all across his work. By no means is this a clear cut measurement, but I would humbly suggest that if your only exposure to Bowie so far stands as the “greatest hits” sets, try this. If you like what you hear, well, then, you are in for an amazing voyage of discovery with the rest of his work. A journey I so wish I could take for the first time again, as much as I love simply going down the familiar paths of it.
So yes, in conclusion, I say that The Buddha Of Suburbia is an essential David Bowie album, irrespective of the fact that it is not officially classified as one of his releases. I say it is one of the most David Bowie records to ever exist because he says so. Whenever he made reference to it, he was always frustrated that it didn’t get heard by a wider audience. No, not frustrated – sad, upset even. He clearly had a lot of personal passion and pride in this recording.
What do I hope for with these Random Bowie posts? I was never sure until now. If just one person goes off from this, finds The Buddha Of Suburbia, listens to it and says “that was 50 minutes of music I have thoroughly enjoyed”, well then there’s one good thing I have done for someone in this life, or the next. At the risk of sounding like a tabloid journalist or “clickbait” specialist, it really is likely that, for many, The Buddha Of Suburbia is the best Bowie album they’ve never heard of.
No, as usual I have no idea what the next episode will be, but I will do all that I can to ensure it appears next month. And, of course, is “tagged” and features some comments on the actual music…….
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment