Ziggy won’t be playing guitar anymore. In a shock of Lennon-esque proportions, we wake to find that David Bowie has been taken from us. I suspect I was not the only one who turned on the radio this morning, bleary-eyed and semi-muddled, only to wake up, with a start. “No, this can’t be happening.”
I don’t think many people knew he was ill, obviously very ill, when he was making The Next Day and Blackstar, released just a few days ago. You would never have known as Ziggy, or whoever he was this year, turned out more and more of the greatest music ever made, always inventing, reinventing, never standing still, surprising, shocking, stunning.
An overused phrase, I know, but Bowie was part of the soundtrack of my life. I was not an uber fan, but I did buy his records as and when, I listened to this music in darkened rooms, in friends’ cars, at clubs, with a girlfriend who not only dressed like him, she spiked her hair like him, she wore her make up like him, her bedroom was more or less a shrine to him. I hope she is all right today, but I doubt that she is.
I went to school and worked with and became friends with Bowie obsessives, who would collect any and every record, buy every available piece of memorabilia, would see his concerts whenever and wherever they took place.
Beatles, Rolling Stones, Elvis Presley, David Bowie – the name is not out of place in that list; it graces it. I do not believe rock music would be anything like it is today without Bowie’s utterly driven music, embracing all styles and genres, never frightened to experiment and learn. No nostalgia moneymaking tours for Bowie, instead make a record with Pat Metheny or Nile Rodgers, morph into Tin Machine, go anywhere music could go.
Not always comfortable to listen to, the innovation of this remarkable man seemed to have no bounds.
Like Lennon and McCartney, I knew from when I was young that he would always be there, that he would never die, that he could carry on making incredible music forever and, almost uniquely, through his music his spirit will live forever, inspiring musicians and fans alike.
For someone who never got near meeting him, never saw him live, I am as near to being heartbroken as one could possibly be without being heartbroken.
Hearing a new Bowie song for the first time was almost as special as hearing a new Beatles song. He had it in him to shock with his sheer brilliance and he shocked me, in a very good way, on more occasions than I could describe.
One single memory was driving back from Tiffanys night club in Bristol after the weekly heavy night. It was at the time of the Young Americans album and we all fell in love with a song called Win which, to this day, remains my favourite Bowie song and takes me back to another time, another place; half a lifetime ago.
If there are bad stories to tell about Bowie, then people please keep them to yourselves. If there are good stories, share them with the world.
Greatness does not often visit itself upon us, but it did with David Bowie and the world is a far lesser place for his passing.
