The rock album David Bowie called soul-lashing: “Shards of sound”
Half of David Bowie’s work was about daring everyone to dream of something bigger. Sure, people could keep making the same kind of music they loved as kids, but what’s the fun in that when you can explore uncharted territories? Bowie was always ready to move on to the next phase of his career, and even after conquering the world as a pop artist in the 1990s, he recognised something intriguing when he heard The Downward Spiral by Nine Inch Nails.
Because outside of their respective genres, Bowie and Trent Reznor were cut from the same cloth. Some of their first major releases were about how they didn’t fit into the usual confines of what a pop star should be, and yet both of them turned that into their greatest strength, with Bowie adopting his glam persona and Reznor lashing out in anger on Pretty Hate Machine.
When someone lashes out in anger and gets nothing in return, though, they’re bound to go even further. Once Reznor started becoming a major rock star, Broken signalled that something nasty was on the horizon, and The Downward Spiral was the kind of record that seems like it should come with a health warning before you turn it on.
Rather than give us another song like ‘Wish’, the entire record doubled down on Reznor’s need to be vulgar, painting the picture of a man who hates his existence so much that he succumbs to the grossest parts of himself before finally deciding to take his own life at the end of the record. It’s not exactly lighthearted, but Bowie still thought that Reznor deserved some accolade for what he had done.
When talking to Rolling Stone, Bowie thought that the entire appeal of the album was because of how much it didn’t feel like it should be listened to, saying, “In making The Downward Spiral, he encouraged the computer to misconstrue input, willed it to spew out bloated, misshapen shards of sound that pierced and lacerated the listener. Second to The Velvet Underground, there has never been better soul-lashing in rock.”
If anything, Lou Reed’s brand of rock and roll may be the only other companion piece to this kind of record. After all, Reznor’s use of distortion wasn’t that different from how The Velvets used it on their album White Light/White Heat, and as far as the storyline goes, the album takes what Reed was getting at on an album like Berlin and took it even further by making it sound like one of the most intense experiences one can have while sitting completely still.
And just like any genre that struck his fancy, Bowie knew that he wanted to take a crack at it as well, eventually making Earthling as an ode to that style of music by making insane beat switches and allusions to drum and bass music. ‘The Heart’s Filthy Lesson’ was priming the pipes for this, but ‘I’m Afraid of Americans’ is clearly more in line with what Bowie was aiming for.
Reznor was looking to quote what he felt inside, which eventually led to him producing for Bowie and touring with him in the 1990s, where they played a version of ‘Hurt’ together. It’s one thing to inspire someone, but if Bowie ended up covering his tune, Reznor may as well have had a rock god consecrate the ground he walked on.
