David Bowie

Sometimes we admire people because of what they’ve done. Sometimes we admire them because of who they are. And sometimes we admire them because of what they stand for. But very rarely do we get the opportunity to admire someone because of all three.

The closest thing to music royalty that I can fathom, Bowie is one of those artists that became more than the sum of his parts. I get a little daunted at the idea of writing about him simply because his impact had spanned nearly the entirety of my life…and that was after he’d already released eight albums. I have a lot of admiration for Bowie fans. It definitely takes a certain chromosome makeup to follow the Thin White Duke religiously, so I’ll try to turn my arms length understanding of him into a cohesive article.

But I think that’s where I’ll begin. With the chromosomes…

I have never known any person, let alone musical artist, to recreate themselves time and time again in the way that David Bowie did. Not restricted to a gender, his ability to move effortlessly  between the masculine and feminine aspects of himself became his trademark. And quite rightly so. He was amazing at it.

When I try to recall what my impressions of him were as I was growing up through the 80’s, I now understand why I didn’t remember feeling as though he was pushing any groundbreaking boundaries. It was because as every incantation of him would arise, it would somehow be representative of the era. Sometimes pushing right to the edge of that era’s counter culture such as Ziggy Stardust did in the early 70’s, but sometimes sitting right in the groove like his persona through a lot of the 80’s.

In an age where we now are doing our best to be advocates of gender fluidity, I think we have a lot to grateful for from the man who blazed a trail for acceptance of anything outside our conservative linear ways of thinking. And taking the brunt of every person who believed there was no place in the world for it. When someone is creating music that was so evidently popular, standing within their own identity became easier…but by no means easy.

This is why I refer to him as royalty I think. Because he understood his position, and [consciously] used the power within it to speak the truth he knew. Even though it wasn’t the popular truth. And for that I admire him more than anything. Sure he made great tunes. Sure he was in the spotlight for years and maintained his professionalism throughout. But its because of his undeniable ability to break barriers, belief systems and cultural norms by simply believing in himself and following through.

I’ve read enough to know that being an essential aspect of the expansion of gender and sexuality along with Lou Reed, Roxy Music, Iggy& the Stooges, the Velvet Underground etc, opened a door to a generation of gender fluidity for kids that were never allowed to speak of it let alone be it.

And all of this before we’ve even got to his music…What the actual fuck?!?

Over time I’ve been exposed to a lot of Bowie’s music. [I think we all have], but I will say this. He is the living embodiment of the phrase ‘Just Keep Going’. If you’ve delved into his back catalogue at all, there’s a lot of shit in there. *Sorry Bowie fans* but what’s remarkable is that he created so much music [26 studio albums to be precise], that by the law of averages, he was bound to hit the mark. And he did…more often than we remember. He just had an insatiable need to create music. Over and over and over.

And although he was less and less in the public eye as he grew older, he kept his chameleon nature to the end. Always reinventing himself. Always pushing some sort of boundary.

Which is possibly why when I asked myself which of the 26 albums I was most influenced by, it came as no surprise that an album recorded right in the midst of his initial reinvention drew me in the most. the 1971 release of Hunky Dory laid the cornerstones for Ziggy’s amazingness to come to life by beginning to move away from a hard rock sound into the boho poet he embodied throughout the next stage of his career.

Jesus…the first track off the album is ‘Changes’ FFS!? But there is such a distinct change in his approach that you can nearly read the album as a diary entry. More melodic. More artful. Definitely more left of centre. But for a 24 year old releasing his 4th studio album [the first three weren’t great], he absolutely took the risk. Took a chance on a sound that resonated with him and ended up becoming the poster boy for it. How’s that for following your instincts.

With 15 tracks that often hit and miss with their popularity, it’s an album that really is the first glimpse of the Bowie we know and love. ‘Oh! You Pretty Things’ follows Changes to give us a really Beatles-esque track that is upbeat and quirky. Add to that ‘Eight Line Poem’ [the next song] which is a slower piano ballad…it just starts building Bowies willingness to change it up.

And then there’s ‘Life On Mars?’…again…WTF? [This really is why I love this album] Its like he’s a completely different artist. It’s not that I’ve exactly lost sleep contemplating the life decisions of David Robert Jones [his name at birth], but more than once I’ve wondered what happened during this time in his life to transition so far from where he was to land smack bang in the middle of who we as a global music audience fell in love with.

I’m sure that there are biographies out in the literary wilderness that will tell me exactly what happened during this time in his life, but seeing as I can’t be fucked reading any of them, all I can do is take him on his lyrical word. [I kinda like it this way better] I feel as though something fairly monumental must have happened during this period and if I only take him on his music, I can only guess that he found his courage. And I [and by that I mean millions of fans worldwide] am forever grateful he did.

Because apart from a couple of choice tracks about Andy Warhol, Bob Dylan and some dudes called The Bewlay Brothers, we also get to enjoy a track that to this day I still smile at no matter where I hear it.

‘Queen Bitch’ is a track that feels as though it really captures the entire album and is the one that really is the first lycra wearing hint of what was to come. And for David to find his true voice after missing the mark three times previously, as well as create the platform for his next evolution all in a single album, is something remarkable. At least it is to me.

It’s hard to talk about Bowie without discussing all his musical high notes. His ‘Best of…’ album has 21 tracks on it and you know every one of them. And I’m not talking about hearing one and going “Yeah, I think I know this”,  I’m talking about knowing every ohh & ahh, every weird lyric and remembering that each one was played on commercial radio a million times until they became one of the foundation stones to the soundtrack of our youth.

I say ‘our youth’ because it was my youth. I know that there are some people reading this who’s youth was Sinatra & Presley. Others youth consist of Rhianna and Coldplay. But mine was Bowie…and Fleetwood Mac, and Phil Collins, and The Police….

And with all of this musical genius and generational influence making its way onto the brown pleather couch situated on the inspirational floor of my brain, this man does the one thing that defines him as he’s on the way out the side door of life. He releases an album that not only went to number 1 in every country it was released in, but in true David Bowie form, became the closing chapter in a life lived on the knifes edge of global culture.

For those who are yet to digest the 2016 release of ‘Black Star’ I urge you to just sit with it for a little and digest what he’s trying to say. Because it’s a testament to his vision. A vision that always seemed to be able to look further than the rest of us could and then transpose that into words and music so we could all digest it a little easier. And in this instance, the subject of death becomes the catalyst for an album that kinda breaks my heart.

When I first heard Black Star, I reckon I played it a dozen times from back to front on repeat. Sure, I was devo over his death, but as usual, he seemed to capture something about the times that no one else had yet.

In my heart, I feel a weird kind of kinship with David. Never actualised in person, but via his music and his legacy, I now get to help my kids be aware of the power behind self identification and which star to look toward if they’re ever feeling like they can’t quite be themselves. The obvious one…

…the Black Star.

M/

~ Article updated February 2020