Five Years On - And The Stars Look Very Different Today…
This was written in the immediate aftermath of David Bowie’s death. I don’t know why I wrote it, I certainly had no intention of publishing it. But it was cathartic. I heard the news on 6Music, an unusually solemn Shaun Keaveny breaking the story alongside an even more sombre Matt Everitt. Looking back at it now, it’s naivety and style makes me wince, but it comes from a place of truth.
And The Stars Look Very Different Today
‘He was one of a kind.’ ‘There will never be another like him.’
Platitudes that you hear and read all the time when someone dies. It’s just One Of Those Things People Say. However, as I write this on 11th January 2016, or ‘The Day That David Bowie Died’ as it shall be known henceforth, it struck me that tributes like that have never been truer, and indeed how inappropriate it seemed to use them on occasions in the past.
My wife, who is the most passionate and opinionated about music person I’ve ever known, has never been a Bowie fan. For whatever reason, nothing from his stupendous back catalogue ever stuck (although I’m sure there was one), but she can appreciate his impact and contribution to music, pop culture, indeed many elements of 21st century life full stop.
At surface level, the list of truly great songs is as formidable as you will ever see. ‘Space Oddity’, ‘Starman’, ‘Life On Mars?’, ‘Changes’, ‘Ziggy Stardust’, ‘Suffragette City’, ‘Rebel Rebel’, ‘The Jean Genie’, ‘Sound And Vision’, ‘‘Heroes’’, ‘Under Pressure’, ‘Ashes to Ashes’, ‘Let’s Dance’….and that is just scratching the surface. Mainly, that’s The Hits. Inevitably, his influence waned in his later years, after over 15 years at the top. That’s not to say the quality decreased, but the ‘rules’ of music means that every act has an imperial phase (whereupon popularity and quality are aligned) of, maximum, 20 years. The very nature of music, and specifically rock and roll, dictates that be the case.
Think in modern terms. Right now, the biggest band in the world is Coldplay. Their imperial phase lasted surprisingly long, from first album Parachutes in 2000 until fifth album Mylo Xyloto in 2011. Their latest effort has sold as well as ever, but whilst it’s a good pop album, reining in guest artists from Beyonce to Noel Gallagher smells slightly of desperation. They released five albums in that time. Bowie’s imperial phase lasted from 1971 to 1983, from Hunky Dory to Let’s Dance. That period covers 12 albums. Yes kids, twelve albums in twelve years. Not all were great, (Pin Ups) but all were at least very very good.
The influences he created are too numerous to list here, and in truth you’ll no doubt have read them numerous times by now. But the impact transcends anything we can truly comprehend. That’s without mentioning his dalliances in film, fashion, literature and technology. But the best thing about him was that he made it OK to be different.
I don’t remember the first time I heard David Bowie, he just was. My earliest memory is, like many of my age, the film Labyrinth. Aside from the very flattering trousers, he cut a wonderfully sinister villain in this children’s film. Better than that, however, was the soundtrack. ‘Magic Dance’, whilst designed to appeal to children, is still a tune.
My Bowie epiphany came, as most musical epiphanies did for me, through Oasis in the 1990s. When ‘D’You Know What I Mean?,’ their big comeback single after the …Morning Glory phenomenon, was first given airplay, Radio 1 played all four tracks from the single at different moments. Whilst I enjoyed the single, the track that caused me to wear out the cassette was their cover of ‘Heroes’ (no commas in this instance). Whether or not it is a good cover is open to debate, but a good song is a good song. And this was a great one. So, through rifling through my brother’s Bowie purchases (of which there were a handful, fortunately one being a Best of) I began my musical education.
And I’ve never looked back. Even now, with the release of Blackstar. We listened to it on Saturday night. In truth, whilst new Bowie music was always an event, I didn’t have the highest of hopes. The Next Day was a solid album, and worth his returning to the fray for. However, I had the nagging doubt that I listened to it so much because of the surprise of the reveal. Upon reading reviews, I thought Blackstar would be experimental, interesting, and therefore get a handful of listens from me. A ten minute comeback single will have that effect. But we listened to it on Saturday and I was quietly impressed.
(Those of a cynical disposition will say that the release of a new Bowie album is timed very well, and this will impact sales. Which, apart from being a disgusting thing to say, patently won’t be true. For one, a new David Bowie album would likely always get Number 1. But more remarkably, it means he left on his terms. A genuine innovator, Bowie very rarely looked back, and would have wanted to end with something new. No doubt his cancer diagnosis inspired him to record his album. Which underlines what a remarkable, classy, inspirational and true artist he was.)
So I played it again this morning, after hearing the news. Then I remembered the recent single was called ‘Lazarus’….surely not? Surely Bowie wasn’t that well prepared. And then, track 3 came on the iPod, and I just knew. There it was, David Jones’s last testament, so oblique that you wouldn’t know at the time, and yet now it makes perfect sense:
‘Look up here, I’m in heaven.’
If such a thing exists, then yes David, yes you are. As ever, he was one step ahead of all us. The most perfect ending an artist could wish for. Farewell, Starman, and thank you.
‘This way or no way you know I’ll be free. Just like that bluebird, ain’t that just like me.’
Richard Bowes, 11/01/16