Reinvention 101 via David Bowie's 1977 Masterpiece 'Low'

by Gary Jansz - Curator of S.I.R

David Bowie's 1977 career redefining album Low has been discussed and dissected by critics, fans and even academics for over 30 years. But one of the most interesting stories behind the impetus of Low that is not discussed nearly as much is how the album became a necessary odyssey of rebirth and recalibration of mind, spirit and body for the troubled Bowie. Recently I've revisited Low and it's become a divining rod of inspiration, not so much for its artistry, but for my own current re-examination of new possibilities, new directions and hopefully rebirth. So It's fitting that this inaugural post for The Sound, It Resounds doesn't so much peel back the layers of the mystery or music on Low as much as it focuses on reinvention and rediscovery.

I first heard Low in the early 80s having been a longtime Bowie fan since I was 13 (Diamond Dogs was my second ever album purchase). By the time I heard Low, years after its release,  my own personal and nerdy musical odyssey would take me through the risible trajectory of prog rock and arena rock,  somehow depositing me on the road to punk and new wave, where an appreciation for Low was not only palpable but made sense in the context of what I was listening to. Since then Low has been one of those albums I always come back to when feeling nostalgic or just bored of whatever hyped indie band is being canonized on Pitchfork. Each listen over the years, and with increasingly mature ears, has given me new appreciation for Low; everything  from its  jarring yet ingenious sonic palette (ie: how weird the drums sound) to more rarefied and arcane observations (ie: how side 1 symbolizes the faded glamor of post war West Berlin and Side 2 symbolizes the oppression and isolation of East Berlin). But it was after reading the Thomas Jerome Seabrook novel Bowie in Berlin and my leaving a secure job after 5 years that created a perfect storm in my head, crystallizing an inescapable question: where do I go from here and how do I get there? Seabrook's novel, while incredibly entertaining, underscored some real insight into where Bowie needed to go and how he would get there in late 1976.

 During much of 1975 (but probably even before) Bowie's state of mind and general well-being were characterized by a spiraling out of control addiction to cocaine, paranoia, and an obsession with the occult and dabbling in black magic. Friends and colleagues at the time have commented that Bowie lived on a pure "white diet" consisting of milk, vanilla ice cream and cocaine whilst holed up in Los Angeles. Pictures of Bowie during this time show a frail, gaunt, and dangerously thin frame tenuously holding onto reality. Ironically, and probably unbeknown to him at the time (Bowie has stated that he remembers almost nothing of the Station to Station sessions), 1975 was also the genesis of the krautrock and electronic influences that were merely hinted at during the making of Station to Station.

Station to Station is an album that many see as laying the ground work for the trio of albums (Low, Heroes and Lodger) from 1976-79 that would come to be known as the "Berlin Trilogy." With touring Station to Station completed around the middle of 1976, Bowie and Iggy Pop  (going through heroin addiction and all but creatively dormant) would decamp to Berlin to escape parasitic L.A creatures that had ensnared both of them in a vicious circle of real and imagined demons and ghosts. Living modestly above an auto parts shop in an immigrant neighborhood in Berlin, Bowie and Iggy initially assimilated into the city as anonymous American exiles regularly checking out small cafes, art galleries and early 20th century Weimar influenced sleazy cabaret bars.

After several months at this pace Bowie took tentative creative steps emerging from the fog of L.A, not to work on his own projects, but  to write, craft and produce Iggy Pop's debut solo effort The Idiot. The time-lines have been disputed here, but sometime during this period Bowie would also begin sketching out very rudimentary ideas for Low. Indeed, upon entering the studio to record Low, Bowie had, at best, only a general idea of where the road was going. Consequently, strange aberrations like songs fading in haphazardly and seemingly coming to an abrupt end, as well as spartan lyrics and arrangements,  really speak to Low's general  feel of making things up on the fly. Bowie, always an evocative lyricist, actually completed the album having not written any lyrics yet, and eventually left certain songs as instrumentals not wanting to labor under the task of lyric writing. In some cases, most notably 'Warsawa', he merely moaned and intoned a phonetic incantation, resulting in a stirring and emotional highpoint on the album―all without the benefit of any lyrics.

While it's true that Bowie is known as a mercurial and chameleon-like artist, sometime to the derision of critics chastising him as a carpetbagging opportunist, he's also undeniably someone who recognizes that stasis leads to creative and emotional turbulence. His laying to rest the overblown glam-pomp of Ziggy Stardust and wresting control of his career from manager Tony DeFries in the mid 70s, are perhaps emblematic of the same thought process that led him to flee Los Angeles and live a life of anonymity in Berlin while hoping to regroup, renew and redefine.

I recently found myself rediscovering Low as a compass and guide taking cues from Bowies’ baby steps and his willingness to take creative and commercial risks. In some ways Low really feels more like someone taking stock of their situation to heal their bruised ego and emotional psyche. Ultimately, for me, Low feels not so much like getting back on track, but rather like finding a more sustainable track with longevity and a renewed sense of self. The last track on side 1, 'A New Career in a New Town', was left as a blank lyrical canvas, Bowie had intended to write lyrics but decided against it in the end.. I like how the title is merely a “suggestion” of possibilities or an idea to explore and that its absence of lyrics is a blank canvas perhaps suggesting one to fill in their own story. Right now for me a blank canvas is the next chapter of my life waiting to be written, and who knows to what new career in a new town it may lead me to. I think I'm ready to find out though.

Gary Jansz - June 2010

Comments

[foul watson]

i'm pretty sure low is cannonized by pitchfork as well.