David Bowie
 

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Wow. What a lovely letter.

Hi. Been a long time since I barged in and poured my feelings about the dead upon you all. Forgive me.

I suppose that, like most of my contemporaries, I probably became aware of David Bowie in the early 70's. Sometimes things take a while to cross the Pond, and once arrived, they take even longer to get to Cowtown. Indeed, Bowie's first live show in Kansas City was billed as “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars”, a name that was so lost on us Midwesterners that very few attended, and tickets were even given away to try and fill seats in what is a rather small venue to this day. Although I distinctly remember the show being advertised, all I managed to do was guffaw at the rather hysterical band name. My friends and I had a number of humorous spider stories between us at the time, and consequently, we blew right past the thought of attending, as it did not sound serious enough. We were young and pretentious, and sold on the Rock we'd grown up with in the 60's. I will regret that for the rest of my life.

By the late 70's, I was a solid fan, playing “Diamond Dogs” on 8 track nearly endlessly, and sometimes musing about being lithe and androgynous instead of stocky and a flaming heterosexual. Mostly, though, I just marveled at the musical grooves as I sat stoned and rapt in the face of lyrics that you could chew like steak. I got chills as the unique instrumentation and familiar, yet uniquely utilized arrangements slapped me into original trains of musical thought.

As I reached adulthood, and had a family of my own, Bowie's output became increasingly sophisticated, growing in maturity and individuality as I coincidentally did so myself. “1984” swept me into a fresh iteration of Sci Fi Rock; “TVC15” set funky Blues on it's ear, and tweaked it's nipples for good measure. Whatever genre Bowie embraced, he did so with a tongue in it's ear and a hand down it's pants, and always, always, the genre was better for having had his amorous attentions.

Even before the era of Mainstream artist collaboration dawned, Bowie was already at the fore. Bowie and Queen, Bowie and Jagger, Bowie and Turner, Bowie and Cher, fer Chrissake...and all of those were presaged by the least likely, nearly inconceivable, and, IMHO, greatest male/male duet ever - Bowie and Crosby, singing one of the most beautiful Christmas songs imaginable. In short, David Bowie's grasp of musical style combined with his deep, innate, unique talent made anyone's performance a cut above when he was paired up...even Der Bingle's.

His work became deeper and more complex through the succeeding decades. It is hard to know if he actively avoided being pigeonholed, but he was a bird who certainly built and rebuilt his own nest. In the 80's, well after Disco had slipped into the shadows, and while Punk was rising...Bowie released a huge dance hit (“Let's Dance”)...but only after reaching back and touching his Sci Fi Rock era with the album “Scary Monsters”. The Glass Spider Tour in the decade of the 80's would feature an enormous stage production using the most cutting edge technology of the day, all centered on a few new tracks from “Never Let Me Down”, backed up by a healthy chunk of his older catalog. And after Punk had waned? He formed Tin Machine, and did a Post Metal/Punk stretch.

Lest we remember him merely for his music, Bowie's stage personae and the productions which framed these characters were integral parts of his performances. Not unlike his contemporary Peter Gabriel fronting Genesis, Bowie used the best tech of the times to produce not a mere musical performance, but rather an entire theatrical experience. Although it was a widespread practice in Prog Rock/Art Rock/Glam Rock at the time, few have ever done it better; few could ever meld the individual pieces into such a cohesive whole. The elements of music, the stage setting in which the music was performed, and the characters who delivered the performances could not be separated without diminishing the whole. From fellating Mick Ronson's guitar live in concert on stage and TV, to apparently hypnotizing and controlling the near acrobatic movements of a comely lass on stage, all the physical actions were part of the whole. All settings, lights and sounds were designed to create a unified and unique piece of Performance Art.

As if being a musical genius wasn't enough, Bowie was also a unique and expressive stage and film actor. I will never forget seeing “The Man Who Fell to Earth” at the Watts Mill Cinema, expecting, due to rumors in the press of the day, to see a close knockoff of “Stranger in a Strange Land”. Instead, I saw a unique and nearly disorienting phantasm of 70's Art Sci Fi, one which I have watched repeatedly over the years, always coming away with an admiration for his character, and shaking my head at the cocaine fueled excess that was obviously part of that production. In more recent years, Bowie played Nicola Tesla in “The Prestige”, with the result that it is Bowie's face and forced European accent I will forever see and hear when I think of the man who gave us modern electrical Science.

Friday last, I sat happily at my desk listening to a day long stream of Bowie music in celebration of both his 69th birthday, and the release of his new album, “Black Star”. When I went home, I discovered a 1999 episode of “Storytellers” on TV, and was fascinated by his seeming lack of pretense, his good humor, and a clear, true love of his Art, his band and his audience. He was a man utterly in his element, and clearly pleased to be there. Late that night, I sprung for his new album, donned headphones, and drank in the complexity, the multiple layers, the deeply lush sound textures, the stunning changes of meter and tone, and I knew with certainty that this was a man in utter control of his creativity and the creations to which he gave life.

Today, on this cold January Monday morning, I turned on my radio on my way to work and heard that David Bowie had died after an 18 month battle with kidney cancer, a fact which I, and most of the world, it seems, had previously been unaware.

My heart and soul are deeply bruised. It will take a long, long time for them to recover. Not since thew murder of John Lennon have I felt so deeply affected by the passing of an Artist.

Some people are irreplaceable.

Thanks 'spode, for voicing a lot of things that flashed through my head today but couldn't transcribe in a cohesive fashion. As always, you're the man. :notworthy

Philly loved Bowie and the feeling was mutual. Seeing Ziggy at the 3000 seat Tower theater was a memorable experience, but anytime anywhere he repaid the people who came, with a show to be remembered. RIP Ziggy.

Biggest kick in the nuts since Lennon for me.

I can't say more than Spode has, this one stings. I listened to Ziggy obsessively for a period of time especially as road music. It may be time to square away the old stereo and turntable.

Goddamn you're good, Els.

Yes, it rolls off his tongue keyboard like a symphony. If he'd become a writer, he'd be rich and famous by now.

I want to live my life, from this point forward, with the goal of being worthy of a eulogy written by Patrick Elspode Cham$#@*. I'm certain that I will fail in that endeavor. Still. I want it.

Bloomberg applauds Bowie's business acumen.

He sold futures on himself

http://www.investopedia.com/terms/b/bowie-bond.asp

Back in the day (1990 or so) Pete got me a clear vinyl pressing of Ziggy. Tonight we listen for serious.

Thanks, Clod. The line just sort of swept over me. Bowie was always about sex for me...sex in music. Liberating. I hurt so much with his passing, and am wallowing in his vids and tracks.

Don't die before me, cuz that would suck. I think it is weird that I feel some of my most deep feels when people die. You'd think I'd feel that shit while they were alive, but...I'm busy.

It's stuff you've been meaning to tell them but hadn't.

All the papers...

Wanted to know whose shirt he wears. ;)

Very sad for sure.....Only 69!

:(

And had $230,000,000 unspent. :(

I've been spending some time with Bowie's Blackstar. Trippy and so very good.

My bf was devastated by his death. He patterned a lot of his style after Bowie. We've been attending a lot of the tributes in LA.

When I consider Bowie it feels more like celebrating a life than mourning a death.

He made more of his time than most, and instead of burning out, would jump to new endeavors when he got bored, contributing to a lot of different arts.

That is how he's described here:

Griff: You light the candles and incense, I'll put the album on.

Pete: Great.

Griff: Where's the album?

Pete: I put it right there, next to the discwasher.

Griff: It's not here now.

Pete: Are you sure? Let me look.

*rummaging and rifling*

Pete: It was here a second ago, are you sure you didn't move it?

Griff: I think I'd remember if I moved it.

Pete: Well, what did you do when you walked over here?

Griff: I put my drink down on that new coaster and --

Pete: We don't have any new coasters. What are you talking about?

Griff: *picks up drink and points* That coaster.

Pete: Oh, the coaster that says "Ziggy Stardust" and has a picture of David Bowie? That one?

Griff: Let me get my glasses.

[drift]
That reminds me, last year I was given a candy/chips dish made from heating a record album and bending it up.
My mouth says thank you, but my brain is screaming, WTF, that's no way to treat an album.
I tell my brain to calm down, it's some old album nobody wanted, probably polkas on a bagpipe.
Oh look, the label is still on it let's see what kind of... TUSK... son of a bitch!
[/drift]

So much truth.

Bruce, I do apologize for humanity generally.