“David Bowie is a proper artist. He releases records when there’s something to say,” commented my colleague John Wilson of Radio 4’s Front Row programme. Well, yes, he is an artist, but he’s also, as the most cursory examination of his CV will tell you, a beat boom chancer who owes every bit as much to Larry Parnes as William Burroughs.

Quizá tenga algo de razón en este punto, lo que no sé es si importa.

Geniales los artículos, extrañamente, el que más me gustó fue el más crítico.

Por otro lado, concuerdo completamente con esta sensación:

He seemed to be quietly singing about how he has been walking the streets for a while now with no one recognising him – there is the elegiac air of being a wise onlooker, in a crumpled raincoat, sitting at a café, watching his younger self walk by – either coked up and pale, all cheekbones and sleeplessness; or perhaps just in his satin and tat - frock coat and bipperty bopperty hat optional. Where Are We Now? is a song that shows every year of Bowie’s age beautifully. It is a worn voice, a gentle voice; a voice with small burn-holes; slight foxing.

Of all the things, it most reminded me of David Attenborough - narrating some extraordinary murmuration of starlings, or a thaw. A voice that has a superior grasp of how large and unlikely the universe is; a voice that has come to appreciate the value in simply being alive.

And when millions of people heard that voice again – unexpectedly, in the dark, this morning – for a beautiful hour of generational assembly, they appreciated that, too.

Only David Bowie could make a song about using public transport in Germany, and thinking of the dead, so lovely.

Este retorno de Don David es volver a ver a alguien que pensabas habías perdido para siempre.
He ahí la mayor alegría de tenerlo en "el ruedo" nuevamente.

SalU2, Nelson.





Editado 1 vez/veces. Última edición el 24/01/2013 16:57 por Super yo.