Classic album: David Bowie’s Lodger

By 1977, the collaboration between David Bowie and Brian Eno was running out of steam, which is fair enough when the last two years had each produced a genuine masterpiece of ambition and invention. Their final work together, Lodger, a more blurred musical vision than either of the previous two, is seen to represent the duo veering away from each others musical trajectories. After it, Bowie would lunge again at the mainstream, at first cautiously with Scary Monsters, and then without abandon with Let’s Dance. Eno, on the other hand, was busy hitching his wagon to David Byrne’s jerky star, making albums every bit as experimental and impressive as Low and Heroes.

Lodger is indeed noticeably distinct from the duo’s previous efforts. The first track hints at it – an epic ballad, ‘Fantastic Voyage’, is driven entirely by a piano and Bowie’s beautiful vocal, crooning a lyric which has a clear narrative of Cold War-era paranoia (it even contains a clear threat, that Bowie would ‘never sing anything nice again’ if bombs were dropped. The Cold War ended a mere ten years after this song – coincidence?). Its coherence and traditionalism would not have got anywhere near the preceding albums. Nor would the three chart-friendly singles, ‘DJ’, ‘Boys Keep Swinging’, and ‘Look Back in Anger’, all placed next to each other in the centre of the album for ease of picking. And following these, there are simply more songs  – no more long ambient tracks of harsh, isolated piano stabs. There are in fact no instrumentals on this album, and without Adrian Belew’s coruscating guitar continually turning songs on their head with layers of noise, it would be Bowie’s most accessible album for some years.

Not necessarily a bad thing though, and if this is the sound of a duo running out of steam, it still manages to be exciting and infused with an energy most bands would give their lead guitarists left arm  to possess. The triumvirate of singles which make up the middle section are great, slightly discordant slices of art-rock, particularly ‘Look Back in Anger’, which rumbles along with a Can-like metronome beat, its incessancy and repetitiveness something rarely heard in popular music. ‘Red Sails’ is the cousin of ‘Blackout’ from Heroes, a hugely enjoyable romp with Bowie’s inexplicable melodies merging with the uplifting brass backing and a typical Belew solo. Mentioned already, ‘Fantastic Voyage’  is a triumph of emotion, and contrasts with ‘Repetition’, led by Bowie’s dispassionate vocals and a detuned bass-line. Just like the opener, it is a song with a narrative, this time of domestic violence, and is as clear as anything from Young Americans, if not quite as uplifting. The whole feel of the album is one of adventure and travel, which, while not particularly subtle (’Fantastic Voyage’, ‘African Night Flite’, the front cover being a postcard), gives the album a restless and invigorating feel.

Exploration brings with it risks though, and the album has its fair share of missteps. Songs such as ‘Move On’, dont do enough to hold the attention of the listener, and sound like ideas being sketched out  rather than fully formed. The world music influence, too, is clumsy. Bowie should be applauded for the attempt, as it precedes more landmark albums such as Remain In Light by the Talking Heads. But whereas songs on that album use polyrhythm and single chord grooves in a way which still sounds fresh today, Bowie’s attempts are more superficial, with silly chanting on  ‘African Nite Flight’ and overbearing Middle Eastern strings on ‘Yassassin’. Bowie clearly wasn’t as intrigued by the possibilities of African music as Eno – ever the musical chameleon, he showed no hint of world music influence until 1983’s ‘China Girl’. It’s debatable whether this belated attempt would have impressed Eno.

Perhaps it was the very beginning of the end – Bowie’s priorities had already began changing, becoming slightly more conservative, and albums after this got progressively worse for a miserably long period. But overall, that does not diminish anything about this one, which takes pride of place in Bowie and Eno’s masterful Berlin trilogy. Lodger’s charms survive its missteps and what emerges from a full listen is an endearing hodgepodge of styles, with high-points that rank well up there with Bowie’s best work. After all, you don’t need a side of instrumentals to make an adventurous album.