Bowie: A Biography - JFK247

29.
I
T IS HARD to listen to Reality, recorded in New York in
2003, without considering that it is Bowie’s last
album at the time of this writing, and if he releases
another, it will remain his last musical statement for
over a half decade. That’s a “reality.” One listens to
swan-song albums a bit differently, whether it’s Let It
Be, In Through the Out Door, Closer, Strangeways,
Here We Come or Unplugged in New York. As
potential swan songs go, Reality is worthy. I think it’s
even better than Heathen, bolstered as it was by the
confidence-building reception of that project. The
songs seem fuller, and with the addition of Station to
Station–era guitarist Earl Slick to the fold, it’s much
more of a guitar record. “New Killer Star” addresses,
as tristate luminaries Sonic Youth’s Murray Street or
Bruce Springsteen’s The Rising did before it, 9/11.
Bowie sings of the “great white scar over Battery
Park” in his vaguely sinister Thin White Duke voice
(the one that always brings maximum drama). “Never
Get Old,” pushed by a great Gail Anne Dorsey bass
line, manages to be both sentimental and existential
(not to mention freakin’ hysterical). “There’s never
gonna be enough money,” a deranged-sounding
Bowie screams, “There’s never gonna be enough
drugs … never gonna be enough sex.” Equally outthere
is his rearranged take on the Modern Lovers’