Reviews of new releases from Mobb Deep, The Make-Up, and David Bowie.   David Bowie hours... (Virgin) Of related interest: Bowie's Berlin period, Velvet Goldmine, Peter Murphy Could it be that David Bowie, the eternally youthful icon of cool, is finally feeling his age? The man who once sang of time's controlling habits seems plagued by them still. "Thursday's Child," the first single, mingles past regret with future fear while placing hope in the love that blossoms in the present. Its conflicting tone of melancholy and optimism sets the stage for the rest of hours.... "Survive" even asks, "Who said time is on my side?," while steadfastly preparing to ward off its weathering effects. The sound matches the lyrics mood for mood, buoying Bowie's smooth croon with mellow rhythms and layered, delicate instrumentation. This is a softer Bowie than the noisenik who toured with Nine Inch Nails. Lest you think Bowie is slipping quietly into his golden years, though, check "The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell," a loud savaging of his past. This old man refuses to pale in comparison to his younger self. Rather than just drifting into his dotage, Bowie recasts his mold, adapting and exploring--always his forte. Jamie S. Rich   The Make-Up Save Yourself (K Records) Of related interest: Nation of Ulysses, Cupid Car Club, Symbionese Liberation Army, gospel music, pills Nation of Ulysses' 1991 Dischord Records manifesto, 13-Point Program to Destroy America, was an amplified Port Huron Statement for a generation of spasmic hardcore kids. Noted for the volumes of art-Marxist propaganda swaddling its albums, the adrenal D.C. quintet set the pace for an entire punk sub-movement with post-nuke guitars and the jungle-cat vox of Ian Svenonius. After 10 years of mad, bad and trés fashionable living, the Hot Chocolate City hookup of Svenonius, James Canty and Steve Gamboa has warped from Ulysses' focused vehemence to the Make-Up's critically cool insanity. Save Yourself, the latter-day group's fifth long-player, unspools like a crackling ham-radio broadcast from the Manson ranch. Solidarity has ripened into mind control, young energy's (d)evolved into animistic lust, and rebel vigilance has become full-tilt paranoia. The music's similarly decadent, as the bass-heavy garage gospel of previous Make-Up efforts swirls into a psychedelic haze. In particular, the horn-laced soul psych-out of "C'mon, Let's Spawn" pops off the disc, a Technicolor preview of the Make-Up's depraved new world. Zach Dundas   The Infamous...Mobb Deep Murda Muzik (Loud) Of related interest: Nas, Raekwon Mobb Deep returns with a banger that raided the Billboard charts at No. 3. The underground duo of Havoc and Prodigy has laid down real street tales about the Queensbridge Projects for the latter half of the decade, continuing the Queens rhyme-assassin tradition founded by Marly Marl, Nasir Jones, Tradgedy Khadifi and Nature. Havoc's production and Prodigy's verbiage have grown noticeably since The Infamous... and the dreary Hell on Earth. Murda Muzik's anthem--"Guns / money / pussy / cars / drugs / jewels / clothes / brawls / killings / boroughs / buildings / diseases / stress / the D's / NYC"--is probably too rough for PG ears but provides an essential lesson not learned in school. Rumbling basslines and definitive piano loops create the homicidal jazz sound that shapes the album; Prodigy fills the spaces with his monotone delivery. Although the two artists take listeners to positive ground with moralistic tales of leaving crime behind, they haven't lost any love for the streets, as the first track, "Streets Raised Me," demonstrates. Cormega's verse on "What's Ya Poison" does nothing but leave you feenin' for his solo joint, as do Raekwon's lyrics on "Can't Fuck Wit." The jaunty beat of "U.S.A. (Aiight Then)" lifts Mobb Deep's props to each region of the country as the duo sends out a call to unite the Hip-Hop Nation. It would be nice if headz would hear the message and come together like Voltron, ensuring that the culture remains a powerful force. H.V. Claytor Jr.   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published October 13, 1999