The Buddha Of Suburbia
BMG International, 1993
REVIEW BY: Ben McVicker
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: 05/27/2008
1993’s The Buddha Of Suburbia, an oft-forgotten album in David Bowie’s discography, was my uncharacteristic introduction to this most eclectic of songwriters. Having taken a liking to the reflective and melancholic ballad “Strangers When We Meet,” I ended up happening upon a 2007 reissue of this album before I laid eyes upon Heathen – a better-known effort that featured the same track. As chance would have it, the album grew on me quickly and possessed an enduring quality that I had not found on
This album remains one of the black sheep of my music collection, an odd fusion of early ‘90s electronica and perhaps ambient jazz, with a touch of pop sensibility for good measure. Very difficult to categorize. It’s a rare disc that you can listen to in a single go without having to skip throwaway tracks. Often categorized as a soundtrack due to the album’s roots in some work that
Things kick off with the title track, which features a whole array of sounds: digital effects, orchestral layerings,
“Sex And The Church” is quite a departure from the opening number. A six-and-a-half minute experiment with electronica, it features
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about The Buddha Of Suburbia is how well everything flows. The first pair of songs is worlds apart in style, yet somehow they sound great in succession. This rule holds true for the remainder of the album as well, including a pair of instrumentals that are worlds apart in themselves. “South Horizon” is a delightful affair, featuring jazzy and meandering piano lines atop some grooving percussion and light digital effects. “Mysteries,” in contrast, is a quiet, minimalist effort, making use of scattered single-note keyboard lines in an atmospheric soundscape.
A quartet of vocal numbers follows, the strongest of them being the aforementioned “Strangers When We Meet.” It’s easily the best vocal to be found on the album, and
While one could file some nagging criticisms about The Buddha of Suburbia, such as the instrumentals not standing up on their own, or the surrounding vocal cuts of “Bleed Like A Craze, Dad” and “Dead Against It” not being up to par with “Strangers...” and the title track, these are petty observations. As a soundtrack and as a concept album, The Buddha Of Suburbia flows with a degree of consistency that is uncommon in such efforts, and it is a highly enjoyable listen.