Soncially it reminds me a of latter-day Lou Reed album: kick-ass rock grooves, and he seems to care more about getting the words out than creating vocal melodies. Tony Visconti is back producing, but I don't know if he should be: Bowie's songwriting is finally ballsy again, but Visconti traps the songs in a sound that one critic accurately described as "stately".
The grooves are Eno-era, but Bowie needs Eno or Trent Reznor or some new punk to come in and take out the string sections, and make the sound intimidating again. It's too clean, too mature. This was the same problem with his last 3 albums.
I was fine with Bowie appropriating Reznor's schtick in the 90s with Outside and Earthling, because he was following his own moods to an artistic end. (Also the songs mostly kicked ass.) But with Hours, and Heathen, and Reality, he entombed himself in the same "old rocker guy making mature music" sound that is still fighting for its life on this new album. It's not as bad this time, but it's not completely killed yet either.
But as albums by old rockers go, this is the most interesting thing I've heard in years. He's still got it.