Decades ago, when his hair was longer, his skin was fresher and before he was a massive name, David Bowie released Changes. It was one of the songs that made him big, but nothing made him as much of an icon as his dedication to his craft after all of these years. With reasons to fuel his career time after time again, Bowie has never let his legacy settle down. The closest call to this was his hiatus after 2003’s Reality album, but he came back ten years later with the splendid The Next Day. It’s safe to say that not everything David Bowie has released has been gold, but a vast majority of his discography is at the very least remarkable, if not spellbinding. He’s releasing a huge collection of his hit songs known as Nothing Has Changed. In his youth, he sang “time may change me but I can’t trace time”, but this new release suggests otherwise. He used the word “may”, and it seemed to be used in a way that suggested acceptance, not that there was a possibility of the other outcome being true. Bowie may have tackled many genres, but he still remained himself after all of this time. He does his damn best to “trace time” with Nothing Has Changed, which is released in 3 different formats (a 3-disc album with its tracks in reverse chronological order, a 2-disc album in chronological order and a 2-LP release with a jumbled track list; all three come with different album art of Bowie looking in a mirror at different stages of his career). He still cannot decide which of these reflections will truly capture his career in the best way possible, so he may as well try all three options.
This compilation contains some interesting songs to note, with a few songs from his unreleased album Toy being featured on the 3-disc edition of the album. All three copies will contain a new song called Sue (Or In a Season of Crime). It’s a clear indication of how Bowie’s mind still functions as an imaginative machine that churns out idea after idea. Even if this song isn’t to your liking, it’s extremely difficult to even link it to last year’s album The Next Day. Sue isn’t some loose b-side that Bowie is releasing for the hell of it. This near-eight minute track is a miserable jazz number that runs through the night with its spastic drumming. It cries to all of the shut windows to let it in with its wailing horn section. It’s lonely and caught in the rain. It keeps fighting the entire song until the very end, where the drums fade out and all gets more quiet. We will never know if its search for solace ended with a door opening to let it in or with its eyes closing to let it all end.
Bowie himself sounds a lot like Scott Walker when the latter embarked on his more experimental career, with Bowie’s booming voice being sewn onto an obscure sound. On the first listen, it’s Bowie’s vocals that add any sense of direction to this madness, but the song shows its many ideas after a few plays. He sounds tortured, especially when he howls “goodbye” (a word that better not have any loaded meaning behind it, as I refuse to see Bowie end anytime soon). He tells a story about the titular Sue, and this noir-esque tale examines life and death’s misfortunes. He starts a hopeful life with this Sue character, as all seems to go alright (he reminds himself that her x-rays look okay and that she isn’t sick). All of this is said at the current time with Bowie in a distraught state, as he (possibly) yells “I just said home” when he recalls bringing her home. This line will come into play later, as he continues his recollection of events in order. It appears that Sue embraces the possibility of death, as she talks about what she wants written on her gravestone. This event alone reveals a secret she has kept close to her (that she has a son). She appears to pass away, and Bowie cries his farewell to her. The song goes quiet, and his part seems to be done.
We’d be wrong, as he returns with a twist ending. He finds a getaway note where Sue has left Bowie all alone for another man. It was her plan all along. She was never truly sick. She was found to be a liar (with the child she never mentioned) and he trusted her anyways. He almost broke out into tears mid story because he felt the need to remind himself that the house they once shared was, indeed, their home. That’s when the tangled jazz music finally makes complete sense. His mind is a disaster and he cannot make any logical conclusions as to what this all means to him. The solos at the end of the song bombard the defeated Bowie, as he drops to his knees in despair. Bowie has always been good at creating stories within his music (if his many characters weren’t some sort of an indication of this already), and it’s no surprise that he succeeded in his attempt to bottle up the ticking moments of madness.
It’d be difficult to consider this one of Bowie’s best songs, but that’s because he has released a countless amount of golden moments. As it is, it continues to show that he still has something in him creatively, as last year’s The Next Day was proof of this as well. Bowie went on a hiatus because he wanted time to regenerate and come out with truly noteworthy songs, and it’s showing. It may not carry the magic that Where Are We Now? has, but to be fair that song seemed to be underwhelming at first; It’s slowly revealing itself to be a stroke of genius in Bowie’s latter years of his career, and is slowly becoming one of the greatest ballads of this decade so far. Sue may not fool you with raw simplicity because it isn’t a simple song like Where Are We Now? is. It may alienate you in a similar way due to its complexities instead. Keep in mind, though, that I was dead wrong about the shatteringly beautiful Where Are We Now?, so the many confused faces having an issue with Sue (Or In a Season of Crime) should do what I did and give Bowie some time. Maybe a look at his entire career and the many styles he dabbled in (pop, rock, folk, electronic, experimental, krautrock, soul, glam and more) will guide you through the song. It isn’t an instant classic, but it’s still a damn good release.
