David Bowie
Scary Monsters

THE REVIEW

“Margaritas ante porcos!” That is, do not give the holy things to the dogs and pearls to the pigs (Matthew, VII, 6).

In other words, do not mix the sacred with the profane, the noble with the vulgar. In church with the saints and in the tavern with the gluttons, as Dante would say.
Phaedrus tells the fable of a donkey who found a lyre in a meadow and, curious, touched it with his hooves. The strings produced a sound. “A very beautiful instrument,” commented the donkey, “but it fell into poor hands; had it found one more skilled than I, we would now be delighted with divine melodies.” So it is in life: men of genius find no adequate appreciation due to the obtuse incomprehension of the environment in which they live and wither in oblivion.

Why all this? Because yesterday I went to MediaWorld and saw, buried under Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, and East 17, this album, in the half-price offers basket. Reviewing it, bringing it back to light, since “mala tempora currunt” (bad times are upon us), was the least I could do. “Post fata resurgam” (after death, I shall rise again, is the motto of the phoenix), and I help this album, too soon forgotten, to rise again.

Scary Monster represents a fundamental step in the Duke’s artistic career. First of all, because it was an album conceived with strong commercial potential. Then because among the guitarists involved, we find hugely important figures such as Robert Fripp (impressive in It’s No Game and Scary Monster and very smooth in Teenage Wildlife), Carlos Alomar, and the impetuous Pete Townshend of Because You Are Young. Finally, because it contains what I consider the best song written by David Bowie, the one to which he himself declared he was most attached, that is Ashes to Ashes.

This album was defined by the Duke as a “purge that allowed me to settle accounts with myself.” This explains the decidedly introspective lyrics, the total lack of improvisation in the recording, the deep search for the most captivating synchronisms and sounds. Released in 1980 with seven different covers that, when placed in order, show Bowie’s famous Pierrot making a movement, it earned the author an infinite series of accolades.

Listening to it even today, it resounds fresh, lively, and sharper than ever. Just think of Ashes to Ashes. This is the historical continuation of Space Oddity. Only now Major Tom has become a drug addict, a clear reflection of the drug problems the artist experienced during his “thin white Duke” period. The descending offbeat time from ska (which troubled drummer Dannis Davis so much that Bowie had to play it on a chair and a cardboard to record it and have him study it at home), that dry and driving synthesizer, that atmosphere generated by the poignant bass, those refined echo effects…

Ahhh, I revel in thinking about it! Bowie is a state of mind: quod scripsi, scripsi! The half-price basket together with Spears? SUMMA INIURIA! If you have the temptation to buy it, do not try to free yourself from that temptation: “if you resist, your soul will become sick with desire for those things that have been denied to it…” (O. Wilde)