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Post No. 61871110
Rather repugnant is Blackstar (2015), an effort put together as a melodramatic swan song ala Innuendo. These moments of superficial death themes are actually entertaining and hilarious jibs, as if the corpse rock star wanted to provide his own post-modernist critical commentary on the pop (emphasis on pop) art he belongs to. Alas, most of the songs are unlistenable, beyond disposable. Very few people would have listened to this album if it had been done by a lesser known singer-songwriter; let alone reviewed it. It is especially Visconti who disappoints. Bowie's sound was largely Visconti's (or Eno's). Without that sound, Bowie forever remains a second-rate vocalist singing second-rate pop for a second-rate audience.
Bowie used to be "style" for the sake of style, and he was briefly a real musician (no, not the collaborations with Brian Eno, but the mid 1990s). Now he seems after the ultimate definition of bad taste (using his mortality to promote a product) while explaining what an incompetent musician he is. One of the most over-rated artists of his generation, David Bowie could have spared himself the embarrassing prophecy of "Never Get Old": as a matter of fact, he was born old.