Let me preface my review of David Bowie’s new Blackstar by saying that there’s no way I wasn’t going to like this album. I am so enamored with Bowie that if he released a literal heaping pile of garbage, I would defend it to the death as a work of creative genius even as the stench threatened to knock me unconscious. But luckily for me (and for the world, really), Blackstar is anything but trash. It’s a master class in what all aging rock stars should do: go completely bonkers.
