'Where Are We Now? Clearly Not In 1971' - A Review Of Bowie's New Single

David Bowie is one of those artists whose biggest fans truly believe he can do no wrong. Seemingly normal people completely transform into exuberantly fanatical disciples at the sound of his name, an unrelentingly eerie devotion burns in the hearts of so many who consider him to be a higher being's gift to popular culture.

To be honest, that's one of the best things about Bowie (apart from, you know, the scores of great songs he's released over the past 45 years). Even if you're not as passionate about him as the true believers, any artist who can get people that excited about their output has got to be good for music in general.

Due to all this, it's not surprising that news of his first tune in a decade was one of the biggest music stories in recent memory. But does this new song live up to the colossal hype it has been afforded.

Not on your nelly. Some might call it safe, while others might call it middle of the road, adult contemporary pap; one thing is for sure, it's not particularly interesting. Yes, it's completely inoffensive and (out of context) it's almost completely impossible to despise a song as pleasant as this.

But, he's David Bowie.

Are Bowie's fans legitimately tired of him releasing music that pushes boundaries, music that makes you feel something deep in your loins and makes you want to dance and grin and weep and fuck and live forever? Judging by the early response to this song, it seems so.

Hell, maybe it's for the best if the 66-year-old isn't trying to be some kind of weird sex symbol at this point in time, perhaps we should be glad he's not trying to recreate the most daring elements of his musical career at this late stage and maybe we should be stoked that he's not looking to break new ground, preferring to wallow in a lacklustre song with confusing, humbly bragging lyrics and lush but oh-so-wearisome production.

Obviously Bowie has decided to let us all know that, even though he no doubt lives a very comfortable life as a multi-millionaire  he's still a vessel for so much creativity that he just had to go to Berlin and had to tell us all about it.

He “caught the train from Potzdamer Platz” (apparently “You never knew that, that [he] could do that”). Also, he spent a little time “sitting in the Dschugel on Nurnberger Strassem, a man lost in time near KaDeWe.”

So, the question remains, according to Bowie…

“Where are we now?” Well, you've made it pretty fucking obvious that you're in Berlin, Bowie.

“Where are we now?” Clearly we're not in 1971 because I'm listening to a David Bowie song and it's taking a great deal of willpower not to shut it off.

Berlin ought to be offended that this once visionary artist has associated their incredible city with what has got to be one of his least inspired moments yet. It'd make more sense if he admitted to writing it in Stoke-On-Trent or Sacramento or Ballina, don't drag one of the world's truly great creative cities down with you.

Probably the worst thing about this song is that its title reminds me of the chorus from that abominable James Blunt song Wisemen and, as such, I've spent the better part of the past 24 hours with that piece of shit swimming around in my head. Thanks, Bowie.

Of course it has its redeeming features; just after the three minute mark in the film clip there's a pretty cool dog that runs across the bottom of the shot, and Bowie looks alright – at least he seems to be looking after himself. Also, I've had it pointed out to me that the weird image of him as a teddy bear looks like this dude:

But all in all this is not the “perfect comeback” that so many sycophants in the music press are heralding. It's utterly drab and, frankly, very disappointing.

Maybe it's a grower?

Review by Dan Condon