Some might be tempted to assume that I own more Bowie albums than albums by people who aren’t Bowie. That obviously isn’t the case, but his records do pop up on the list with gratifying frequency.
‘Hours’ was his final album of the 20th century, and quite an interesting one in its own way. For the first time in many, many years, it was an album less defined by its style than by its content. This worked in its favour to a degree – it made it harder for the critics to beat it with a stick, and reviews were favourable at the time. On the other hand, it meant that any weaknesses in the album couldn’t be disguised by the underlying concept, something which helped cover the gaps in, say, Outside or Earthling. In place of grand artistic ideals came a set of simple songs, predominantly acoustic, that were to live or die by their own merit. Along with this came a willingness to embrace the past, both on the record itself, and in the live appearances he made around the same time (including a career-rejuvenating Glastonbury headline slot).
Twelve years on, and it’s hard to see ‘Hours’ as much more than a career footnote, especially with the knowledge that ‘Heathen’ was just around the corner. There are some really good moments present: ‘Thursday’s Child’ is a richly textured ballad, ‘What’s Really Happening’ and ‘Something In The Air’ are age-appropriate takes on classic Bowie. ‘The Pretty Things Are Going To Hell’, despite being self-referential to the point of extreme parody, is a great rock track, and ‘Survive’ is up there with his very best tracks – worth owning the album for on its own. Elsewhere, other tracks feel a little underwhelming either in production terms (‘Seven’), or in terms of the material itself. But it’s a perfectly decent album, and a pleasure to hear. If this had been how he bowed out of recording, it would have been a perfectly acceptable swansong – we’re very lucky that he raised his game once again.
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