On Jan. 8, his 66th birthday, David Bowie surprised music fans around the world with the announcement that he'd secretly completed a new studio album.
This was a big deal — the first record in a decade from a legendary rock star more or less thought to have retired — and wall-to-wall media coverage over the months to come reflected a pent-up desire to have Bowie back in our lives. When "The Next Day" hit stores on March 8, many critics called the album one of the singer's best, helping it along to an impressive debut at No. 2 on the Billboard 200. The man once known as Ziggy Stardust, it seemed, had risen once again.
Or had he?
Less than six months after its release, "The Next Day" — with a title that suggests moving ever forward into the future — seems almost to have disappeared.
Last week the record was nowhere to be found on the iTunes album chart. It hasn't really taken hold on the radio. And though a music video for the album's lead single, "Where Are We Now?," quickly racked up millions of views online, more recent clips from the record have made smaller impressions.
For the week ending Aug. 3, Google Trends rated Bowie's worldwide search interest at 19 on a scale of 0 to 100, well below youngsters like Miley Cyrus and Skrillex as well as peers such as Bruce Springsteen.
But Bowie isn't alone. This year a number of high-profile albums, movies and songs — pop-cultural properties that each appeared with the fanfare of an event — have had trouble gaining the kind of long-term traction that artists and their backers crave.
Think of Baz Luhrmann's lavish big-screen adaptation of "The Great Gatsby," which utterly dominated movie news before its opening in May but now seems like a distant memory. Or "Harlem Shake," the thumping dance-music track by Baauer that topped the Billboard Hot 100 for five straight weeks beginning in February.
At that time, the song — the first to benefit from a shift allowing YouTube streams to help determine chart placement — felt like a harbinger of change. Yet when Baauer played it at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival in mid-April, "Harlem Shake" had already started to sound like a relic.
Even Kanye West, that committed legacy-builder, saw sales of his "Yeezus" fall 80% in its second week in stores in June — "the largest second-week percentage drop for a No. 1-debuting album in over a year," according to Billboard.
Each has been left behind by an ever-accelerating culture that demands simultaneous engagement on multiple fronts.
"Everything moves so much faster than it used to," said Keith Caulfield, associate director of charts at Billboard. "And consumers have so many more options than ever before. So as a result it's hard to get people's attention today — and it's even harder to hold onto it."
Yet some acts have done exactly that. Last year Adele's "21" was the biggest-selling album of 2012, a title it also earned in 2011. (It's never left the top 50.) The Las Vegas band Imagine Dragons is all over pop and alt-rock radio right now with songs from an album it released almost a year ago.
And since he put out his smash comeback effort "The 20/20 Experience" in March, Justin Timberlake has maintained a spot near the center of the pop-culture conversation.
How to account for which titles attain a measure of what social scientists call stickiness?
It's not just a matter of perceived artistic quality. Critics tripped over themselves to praise "The Next Day" (though it's drearier than its fans will admit), while Imagine Dragons' pumped-up anthems go limp under scrutiny.
Instead, longevity seems to derive from an artist's ability (or willingness) to "keep pounding the message," as Steve Berman put it. The vice chairman of Interscope-Geffen-A&M Records, Berman should know: He's part of the team that's kept Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines" at No. 1 for nine weeks — the longest stint in 2013. (Last week Thicke's latest album, also titled "Blurred Lines," debuted at No. 1 as well.)