Tuesday, 12 January 2016
This year is not going well, already. Barely two weeks in and one of my musical heroes has died, from that blasted, terrible disease.
Before I existed, when my dad was strolling down the streets of London in a sheepskin coat and my mum wore velvet hot pants and platforms, they were awed and entranced by Ziggy Stardust - the androgynous alien who told them to let the children boogie. And when I turned up, with careful brushing of a needle, they included Let's Dance with the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust to their LP collection, mixed in with Isaac Hayes, Barry White and Areatha Franklin. They never told me that music was exclusionary, only inclusive.
People would look at me strangely when I'd sing along to Starman and Young American and Heroes - as if asking me "How do you know that music?" Because it was always my music. I bang on about it enough how music drives my writing. I'm not sure I ever bang on about how music improves everything. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't listen to something Bowie produced, orientated, inspired, or written. At a recent birthday, I sang the intro to Dance Magic Dance - without prompt. Because I listen to that song weekly. That guitar solo in the bridge, is life itself. How can I not? Bowie juggling crystal balls, wearing those grey leggings, awakening my very soul.
The only reason I bought The Prestige on DVD was because of Bowie's cameo. I don't remember the rest of the film (apart from the secret to the trick) but Mr. Knighthood's are not for me Bowie, is ingrained on my soul. I was looking forward to spending a weekend immersed in Blackstar, revel in some new music, since my Strictly Come Dancing repertoire inclusive of I'd Rather Be High (Venetian Mix), needed accompaniment. Venetian Mix - who else does that? Mixes a song in Venetian style, adds a flaming harpsichord and dares you to not enjoy the hell out of it? Until now. I'm not ready to say goodbye to him.
When it comes down to it, there are two people who have lost their father. And as much as he is an idol to me, and countless others, my thoughts, my prayers, my wholehearted sympathies are with Bowie's children.
David Bowie is extraordinary. I refuse to refer to him in the past tense, because Starmen don't die. Goblin Kings don't die. Diamond Dogs are everlasting. I know in time, I'll be able to boogie once again.