Are you okay?
You wrote me -
in ’71 I suppose – that you loved
Bowie. And said (I’m going from memory here) “I’m in my bedroom listening to
Hunky Dory (Kooks). Great album!”
I guess I was young and awkward then. Unlike you.
In your bedroom, listening to David Bowie. But
I borrowed the album from a friend. And that song – and for me it was
about you – lit a spark in my life and set it in amber. And every time I’ve
heard it, or seen the album, all through
these years, a little piece of you has come floating back to me.
A year later I’d thrown my homework on the fire
and taken that car downtown. And wanted to be like him, standing outside a
stage door under a K. West sign….
Maybe everyone - all of us swallowed up in the
spirit of the times he captured - thinks
they were the ones he really sang for. At certain moments. On our personal
journeys. Post-hippy pre-punk me, listening to Starman. A post-punk little sister, on a journey to adulthood
and riot-grrrldom, listening to Boys Keep Swinging. You
with your records and your cool, in your
bedroom. And all the generations since…..
I still think you and I were the ones he
touched the most. But then, I would think that.
A guy on TV’s saying he met Bowie. But we all met Bowie - all of our generation and
beyond. That was the genius of the man.
Not my usual type of post and not how I wanted to start this year's blogs. But Bowie's death has hit us all so hard. We grew up with him and he grew into us, expressing things for us that we didn't know how to and showing us worlds...and sounds, we hadn't imagined.
Not my usual type of post and not how I wanted to start this year's blogs. But Bowie's death has hit us all so hard. We grew up with him and he grew into us, expressing things for us that we didn't know how to and showing us worlds...and sounds, we hadn't imagined.
