Not Quite There.... Not Quite Gone....

It's a truism that as you get older, the passage of time seems to speed up, almost as if some unknown force has tilted the clock to an angle and it is now rolling down hill, gaining velocity. Inwardly, there grows a steady mantra and "I can't believe it's been x years (months, weeks, days, but generally years) since...." In this instance I use the x advisedly as a Roman numeral as we reach the 10th anniversary of the death of David Bowie, and no I can't believe it has already been that long.

His death was met with what felt like a genuine mass outpouring of grief and adulation, the critical assessments of his art and characters coalesced around the valedictory brilliance of Blackstar and ran to tens of thousands of words. The Guardian alone dedicated its front cover and a special supplement to him. I suppose only a very few were forewarned and so his sudden passing came out of the blue, hitting the media like a bomb. He was everywhere, TV, the radio, the pub, work and at home. Blackstar helped to drive the frenzy, the album equally unexpected, trailed only by the release of the title track as a single in December 2015, landed on 8th of January his 69th Birthday. Two days later he was gone.

I bought Blackstar immediately on release and can't remember whether it was the Friday, (the day of release) or more likely the Saturday that I took myself to HMV in Croydon. I was aware of there being a limited-edition clear vinyl version but had refused to fall for what I regarded as unnecessary hype, and anyway wanted to buy from a bricks and mortar retailer. We played it straight away, my wife also being a fan, but were still trying to work into its dark, mournful, jazzy mystery when the news broke. Suddenly things started to make sense - the fragile and restrained voice, the elegiac textures, the fever dream lyrics, the decidedly odd and somewhat troubling video - this was Bowie saying goodbye and the emotional impact of the music took hold.

The album became an obsession. I wanted to understand it, but more prosaically I had bought some new hi-fi and had been left with two sets of speaker cable to try. Blackstar became my test record as I swapped between them and my original cables over and over again in a quest for greater insight into the grooves. If that sounds dull and blokey, it probably is, but in truth the record frequently overwhelmed me and I would sit with tears on my cheeks, change cables and go through the same rapture again. I still well up, the opening track of the accompanying playlist does it every time.

Blackstar doesn't stand in isolation, and its power is derived from a catalogue of work that has at various times been unique, hugely important and in some cases unequalled. The preceding Next Day had finally been that hoped for return to form, heralding an artist back to the peak of his powers. Like most I had wavered through the post Let's Dance period, dipping in and out of his works, buying the records but struggling to truly love them. 

In the mid-70s, however, I'd declared him a genius and one of the holy trinity of artists I considered above all others. In large part this was down to his fantastic run of singles, the famous Starman appearance of Top of the Pops was on my 14th birthday, although The Man Who Sold the World, Hunky Dory (especially Hunky Dory), Ziggy, Diamond Dogs, Aladdin Sane and, oddly, Pin Ups all registered their mark. The tipping point was the freight-train-impact of Station to Station and on through the so-called 'Berlin Trilogy'. With the advent of Low I even bought a duffle coat, although I looked more like someone who had shopped unwisely at Millets than the icon of style I was trying to emulate. He was the coolest living thing on the planet.

The point of all this is simply that Bowie created some of the best music ever made and the 10th anniversary of his death is a time to take stock, enjoy the wealth of his legacy and relish the immortality his great gift has created. The playlist is not, however a 'greatest hits', although sprinkled with personal favourites, but a way of shining a light into some of the corners and crevices of his prodigious output. After all, there won't be anything new and if never perfect, Bowie remained true to the restless, creative soul, prepared to cut and run and try something new. Looking back you will find everything you need already there, “Chameleon, Comedian, Corinthian and Caricature.” To borrow another line “Time takes a cigarette…”, well how I wish it would take a fag break and leave me here for a while. I for one, have some catching up to do.