The 1990s were Bowie’s fourth decade as an artist, but the first without global hits. They wouldn’t happen until his death two decades later. These six albums are still strong enough to allow for a thought experiment: If he had only started his career in that decade, would he have disappeared into obscurity straight away?
Probably not. We would have gotten to know him as a musician with an eye on the spirit of the times and occasionally brilliant traits, but who doesn’t want to create a masterpiece. His farewell album, “Blackstar” (2016), is celebrated as a new kind of jazz-pop of the finest quality, but the unnoticed pioneering albums are “The Buddha Of Suburbia” and “Black Tie White Noise” (both 1993). For the “Tie” songs, Bowie picked up the saxophone, rarely for melodies, more for effects. For “Miracle Goodnight,” producer Nile Rodgers played an eleven-second but unforgettable guitar solo. “Play like the Fifties never existed,” demanded Bowie. And as if “white” pop music had never been influenced by “black” music. “I don’t want to hear a single Blue Note.”
With the two subsequent albums he paid homage to nineties trends, industrial and breakbeat. “Outside” (1995) is an over-the-top concept album about a detective who solves murders in the art scene, with some of his most beautiful lines: “Do you like girls or boys?/ It’s confusing these days/ But moon dust will cover you” – “ Hello Space boy” was the crazy idea of uniting Ziggy Stardust and Major Tom. With the better “Earthling” (1997), Bowie was following a trend for the first time; drum’n’bass was through. But behind the dance floor show, if you straightened out the fidgety arrangements, there was good material. “Hours” (1999), despite its fantasies about the blossoming Internet, was already a rather conservative work that was celebrated at the time as a “return to form” and that anticipated the “classic rock” Bowie of the noughties. The phrase “the best album since ‘Scary Monsters’” appeared for the first time in reviews.
The set has incomprehensible blank spaces. The album “Toy”, which was not released in 2001 and was released as a separate box set in January, is touted as a highlight, but “Uncle Floyd” is missing from the new recordings of older songs. “Toy” offers an ambivalent experience. In addition to a sensitive interpretation of “Silly Boy Blue” there is “You’ve Got A Habit Of Leaving”, which turns the Sixties beat into one of those musical numbers that Bowie was prone to from “Heathen” from 2002 onwards. The 45-minute “Leon Suites” from the “Outside” sessions remain a fan dream that still needs to be heard as a leak on You Tube. The Goldie collaboration “Truth” is also missing, which, funnily enough, has no drum’n’bass and no rhythm at all. But it’s nice to miss out on “Jewel”, Bowie’s horrible attempt to create the ultimate indie rock anthem with Reeves Gabrels, Dave Grohl and Frank Black. “A Foggy Day In London Town” is there, in which Angelo Badalamenti reliably proves that a xylophone can scare you. And “Planet Of Dreams,” the duet with bassist Gail Ann Dorsey.
A well-known BBC gig from 2000 is included as a live album, but it’s hard to keep up with it: In the past twelve months, six live recordings from the “Brilliant Adventure” era have been released under the name “Brilliant” – which is extremely unfavorable due to the risk of confusion Live Adventures”. The more important concert would have been something else: Bowie’s 50th Birthday Bash in New York, with guests like Lou Reed, Sonic Youth and Robert Smith.