My Month of Bowie, day 24: 'Reality' (2003)

Reality was Bowie's last album for a looooooooooong time.

The album: Reality (ISO, 2003)

Savor this one, Bowie fans!

My thoughts: When I read Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1964) as a kid, I was fascinated by the idea that master chocolatier Willy Wonka suddenly withdrew from public life and shut himself away in his dark, lonely factory for years due to paranoia over industrial spies. David Bowie, the ageless genderless Willy Wonka of rock, did something similar in the 2000s, except his sudden retreat from stardom was caused by a backstage heart attack in 2004. And, while Wonka kept making marvelous confections even during his years of isolation, Bowie ceased touring altogether and kept out of the recording studio for a full decade. His only releases from 2004 to 2013 were reissues of archival material. 

Before this prolonged work stoppage, though, David put out one more LP, the one I'm reviewing today. How eerily appropriate that it was an album called Reality that nearly killed him. (He was touring in support of this record when he had his heart attack.) Could there be any clearer sign from the universe that it was time to retire or at least take an extended break? I suppose that being David Bowie takes a toll on a person's body after a few decades.

Bowie may have been on the precipice of disaster in 2003, but I'm not sure I would have guessed that from listening to Reality. It was Bowie's second album of new material following his reunion with longtime producer Tony Visconti, and it builds on the epic sound of their previous disc, Heathen (2002). This time, I'd say the songs are (mostly) hookier and catchier than the previous batch. This seems like the kind of album you might make if you knew you were heading out on the road and wanted some fun songs to play every night while your fans wait patiently to hear the classics.

Like many Bowie albums, Reality starts with dessert. The LP's first track and lead single, "New Killer Star," has the same basic cadence as Little Peggy March's "I Will Follow Him" (1963). You know: "I love him! I love him! I love him! And where he goes, I'll follow! I'll follow! I'll follow!" Up next is the semi-novelty number "Pablo Picasso," which could almost be an Offspring song. But then, in the grand Bowie tradition, heavier themes start seeping in through the cracks in the foundation. Tracks like "Never Get Old" and "Days" seem to show the singer grappling with mortality. And it all ends with a chilled-out, seven-minute saga called "Bring Me the Disco King," which is not disco at all but more reminiscent of Sade.

All in all, this was an enjoyable, ear-friendly disc to listen to on a warm, sunny, early autumn day. I'm guessing that Bowie was thinking back to the music that had inspired him in his youth and was trying to evoke it without being too obvious. But, as usual, who knows what was going on in the man's head?

Next: The Next Day (2013)