DAVID BOWIE - BLACKSTAR * DELUXE RARE LIMITED CLEAR VINYL LP * 1 of 5000
£
355
$
470
£ 355
Sold For
Jan 13, 2016
Sold Date
1
Number Of Bids
Great Britain
Country Of Seller
eBay
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Description
DAVID BOWIE - BLACKSTAR
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* DELUXE LIMITED CLEAR VINYL LP *THIS IS MY LAST COPY FOR SALE!
Limited to 5000 copies worldwide and already sold out!! This is an opportunity for any David Bowie and Vinyl fans to own this superb limited edition new release.......
I'm a serious vinyl collector and have secured my own copy of this plus a couple of extra copies. It's his best work for years, sounds brilliant on vinyl.
The unplayed 180 gram clear vinyl is housed in a black gatefold sleeve with a die cut star on the front through which you can see the clear vinyl. Also a 16 page colour booklet with a special gloss finish. After this week's very sad news this LP is now a piece of Bowie history so don't miss this opportunity to own a copy.
R.I.P David and thanks for all the brilliant music.....
Postage from my UK address with be post office 'recorded delivery' in re-enforced record mailers. PLEASE NOTE. I will only post to UK addresses
Your package will include:
Blackstar Clear vinyl Limited edition lp in a gatefold - unsealed, die cut cover with plastic record sleeve 16 page colour booklet
Guardian review: The first David Bowie album without a picture of the 69-year-old artist on its cover substitutes a shot of another star – a stark black symbol, into which a great deal can be read. This ideogram presides over a startling record that sounds far more urgent, contemporary and elliptical than Bowie’s 2013 comeback, The Next Day, an album that fell unexpectedly from the sky.
Although Blackstar is a Bowie album through and through, suffused with his distinct melodic voice and Bowie’s preferred instrument of the 80s – the saxophone – there’s a scorched earth feel to its seven, often lengthy, tracks. Lifelong Bowie personnel have been replaced here by a searching jazz outfit led by New York saxophonist Donny McCaslin; Kendrick Lamar’s own bleak, busy, jazz-tinged hip-hop masterpiece of 2015, To Pimp a Butterfly, is an acknowledged reference point. LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy – one of Bowie’s most obvious musical offspring – contributes beats to two tracks.
Links to the past remain – producer Tony Visconti; Lazarus, a central track, also appears in a Bowie-penned, off-Broadway musical sequel to Walter Tevis’s 1963 novel, The Man Who Fell to Earth, the film of which featured Bowie in the starring role. But nothing here suggests an artist in his 70th year, preoccupied with dignity maintenance. Bowie’s “cock” makes an appearance in the tumbling, skronking Tis a Pity She Was a Whore, a song that references the 17th-century play by John Ford, vorticism and offers the arch, unclassical line: “Man, she punched me like a dude.” Sue (Or in a Season of Crime) finds a dissonant, dislocated-sounding Bowie reassuring the titular woman that “the x-ray’s fine”; later, he buries her (“I pushed you beneath the weeds”); the music’s pell-mell, cinematic malevolence, reworked from its previous incarnation, leaves you in little doubt of his culpability. Even more mysterious, Girl Loves Me is sung in a mixture of A Clockwork Orange’s Nadsat and Polari, the gay slang of bygone Soho. “Where the fuck did Monday go?” yelps Bowie, and you guess he is not merely talking about the unpleasant shock of the working week.
You have to assume Bowie is tackling myriad theatrical voices as Blackstar throws up one unsettling scenario after another, with little obvious connection other than unease and the outrageously good soundtrack in which they are set – weighty with percussion and genre fusions, saturated with instruments, bleak, and unexpectedly, towards the end, resolved. Lazarus has a Greek chorus of sad brass and a breathtaking key change; the 10-minute title track is as awe-inspiring a piece of music as you could ever expect from an established artist. The final track tantalises and reassures, all fuzzy keys and wry harmonica. “I can’t give everything away,” sings Bowie, as though raising an eyebrow at the frenzy of allusion that has just played out.
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