[ Golden Gater Online - September 11, 1997 ]
Throughout his extensive, colorful career, David Bowie has always mastered the art of reinvention, in the process influencing other artists who are still trying to catch up to where he has already been. It is interesting, then, that Bowie, long at the forefront of pop culture, now finds himself caught in a trend pioneered by his contemporaries.
After spending the last decade cranking out unfulfilled albums and short-lived side projects (does anyone remember Tin Machine?), Bowie came to the Warfield Tuesday night to promote the critically acclaimed but commercially disappointing "Earthling."
At the first of three sold out shows (he also performs Monday and Tuesday), the always theatrical Bowie drew heavily from both his new industrial-flavored album as well as the vast catalog of his enigmatic '70s glam-rock standbys.
Strumming an acoustic guitar, Bowie took the stage by himself and opened the show with "Law (Earthlings on Fire)," a futuristic Dylan-inspired anthem that closes the new album -- a stark contrast to what followed.
Always more of a stylist than a true musical innovator, Bowie, who turned 50 this year, has always been able to spot a trend. His new album, the first he has self-produced since his 1974 "Diamond Dogs," is clearly a response to the recent success of American industrial rock (Bowie last toured with Nine Inch Nails) and British electronica, made popular by Chemical Brothers and Prodigy.
"Earthling" is an ambitious album which gets an industrial charge from the Trent Reznor school of power riffs, electronic voice treatments and frenzied percussion.
While introducing his new single, "I'm Afraid of Americans," a staccato rocker about a British paranoiac, Bowie tried to draw approval from the crowd by proudly announcing the song was mixed by Reznor himself.
But most of the over-30 crowd in attendance seemed like they couldn't care less about Bowie's veneration of Reznor. After all, this audience was not the same group of tweeked-out skateboarders and pimply Netheads that NIN appeals to, but a reverent group of adoring rock fans there to see the Thin White Duke perform the old stuff.
He didn't disappoint. Songs from the new album were wisely shuffled in between obscure '70s crowd pleasers ("Panic in Detroit"), and radio-friendly hits ("Jean Genie"). By the time Bowie coolly lit up a cigarette for a rollicking rendition of "Look Back in Anger," the crowd was at full throttle.
Always a commanding theatrical presence, the frolicsome Bowie played the part of an affable rock star, straddling the microphone, stepping up onto the monitor and leaning into the crowd, and graciously accepting flowers that he politely laid at bassist Gail Ann Dorsey's feet. An impossibly huge eyeball balloon adorned the otherwise stark, postmodern stage set, and a seemingly inexhaustible smoke machine and series of green and purple strobes complimented the performance, a hybrid of touring-rock-band and underground-rave effects.
After rallying the crowd with a version of "Scary Monsters," and a delightfully unexpected version of "Under Pressure" with Dorsey handling the Freddie Mercury vocals, Bowie brought the set to a climatic close with the clattering "Little Wonder."
For an encore, Bowie played four songs, two of them covers. He had little problem working the crowd into a rabid frenzy with "Fame," his highest charting single, before launching into Ziggy Stardust's sonically turbo-charged "White Light/White Heat." Dorsey momentarily lulled the crowd with an inexplicable cover of Laurie Anderson's "O Superman," with Bowie relegated to backing vocals.
The show ended with an inspired cover of Mott the Hoople's glam-rock anthem, "All the Young Dudes," which, of course, has always sounded like a David Bowie cover, and served as a subtle reminder of Bowie's undeniable musical importance.
[ Golden Gater - September 11, 1997 ]