This morning my Ipod caught me by surprise and played Lady Stardust without advance warning. I started crying. Fuck you, Ipod! True, I am a big Bowie fan and I still miss him every single day. Kinda creepy, if you think about it, but hey, I never claimed to be normal. I think the world definitely made a turn for the worse after his death in January 2016 and is still in the process of trying to heal itself. So am I. But no, I didn’t start crying because of ‘missing the man’, not this time.
It was far more serious than that. Growing up, David Bowie, the man and his music, showed me that being abnormal was nothing to be ashamed of, that we all could be what we wanted to be. That one day the misfits would rule the world, or at least their own universe. Well…here I am, almost 50, having the most normal job imaginable, not doing anything with a real impact on anyone, pretty much at the end of a dead-end street, kinda desperate, kinda numb too. Not even comfortably numb.
Bowie’s early 70’s output, in particular Hunky Dory, Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane symbolise endless possibility, they are youthful statements of intent. Great sing-along albums too. So that’s what i did. I sang:
“People stared at the makeup on his face
Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace
The boy in the bright blue jeans
Jumped up on the stage
And lady stardust sang his songs
Of darkness and disgrace…”
At the end of the day we can still sing, and remember the time when everything was still possible.