Knowledge Comes with Death's Release

It's been almost a week since David Bowie passed, and almost a week before I've been able to properly say anything about it. ABC's Rage is on the TV right now playing a selection of his videos, and even the later ones I didn't really get into are tugging at my heartstrings at the moment. I figure that where best to say something than the long neglected music blog named after him? Maybe this final post will be a fitting end to a website which I actually did quite well at maintaining for a good couple of years.

Yesterday I went out with my Ziggy Stardust album cover t-shirt on, and a lady at a pretty typical womens boutique recognised it and asked if I was devastated. All I could do was nod and say "yes. yes. yes." I've actually had multiple people (some who I haven't heard from in years) contact me and tell me they thought of me straight away and was I okay? It was overwhelmingly sweet to know so many people remember how much Bowie touched my life. I couldn't say much more to them than "I'm shattered, thankyou." I'll try and be a little more eloquent today.

Bowie wasn't always in my life, consciously. Subconsciously, though, he was everywhere. My parents were huge, ridiculous fans, as were most of their friends and family. I remember lying in bed (probably mum and dad's waterbed) while they were hosting a dinner party and hearing a song about some dude named Major Tom who seemed to be in a bit of a pickle. Quite a few times. One of their family friends owned a dog named Ziggy. Labyrinth, and Jareth's codpiece was on the TV often. He was very much around.

It wasn't until I was late in highschool and my family decided to have impromptu vinyl nights in the living room while my young sister complained from her room next door, that I started to discover him properly. Mum and Dad went to see him while on his Reality Tour (I was underaged and of course wouldn't have afforded it anyway) and I was jealous as hell. In my university year, I went along to a Bowie tribute music night at the Tivoli Theatre, with my parents in tow. Musicians such as Tim Steward, Katy and Tyrone Noonan, Annie Lee, Tylea and Guy Webster performed 'The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars' in full. That was it for me, I was done.

Since that gig, important times in my life have always had a bit of Bowie tied in. There's probably a Bowie moment for every one of the important people in my life. There's a song for every feeling I've experienced, every lover I've had. The time I was tossing up whether to date someone; hearing 'Drive In Saturday''s lyric "She's uncertain if she likes him/But she knows she really loves him", helping me make my decision. Countless discussions of Bowie's music, or who right now fits the description of this generation's Bowie (no one), on an internet forum, many forumers of whom became close friends. Getting 'Pin Ups' (which I'd actually not heard at the time) from one of those close friends for my birthday. Dragging some friends and a sibling (some of whom didn't know much about him) to go to an appalling Bowie club night in a dingy bar. Going to see the film of 'The Rise And Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars' at the Gallery of Modern Art with another friend and accidentally clapping after a few of the songs finished. Wearing a Bowie mask and carrying a poster saying "This ain't rock and roll, this is genocide!" as I and a close friend marched down Brisbane city in protest of closure of aboriginal communities. And of course, debating whether "Heroes" was overrated or not with a guy I'd just met at a party, culminating in him showing me his Heroes dance in my living room. He's currently sitting next to me in our living room and four years later we're still debating.

When I turned 25, "All the Young Dudes" was posted on my facebook wall. When I travelled to Europe, "Fantastic Voyage" was playing on my ipod. When I've left an unpleasant work experience, "Look Back In Anger" or his version of "Friday On My Mind" have been blasting out of the car speakers. Whenever if ever I get engaged, "Be My Wife" will be playing in my head. When I reach my 5 year wedding anniversary, "Five Years" will be karaoke'd by the both of us (if this doesn't happen, I've married the wrong guy). "Kooks" will be the theme song for my first child.

My life is David Bowie in some way or another. Hearing his passing was like having a piece of my life die. He'll never know the impact his life had on me, and I'll never be able to see him in the flesh to at least scream my praise to him along with the crowd. But, as one of those repeated memes has said, I'm so glad to have got to know him in my lifetime, even experience some of his new music as its being released. I'm a lucky girl to have my life so enriched by him.

Thanks David Bowie. No, you're wonderful.

 

The Damned, The Hi Fi, Thursday 19th January, 2012

Back in "the day", Triple J ran a Hottest 100 songs of all time. This was in 1998 when I was in primary school and living in Caboolture and the Hilltop Hoods didn't exist. I remember voting for "Joga" by Björk and also "Happiness" by Regurgitator, because, you know, they were the best songs of all time. Dad voted for "Smash it Up" by the Damned, the English goth punks from the 70's. I remember he wrote as his 25-words-or-less rationale: “because in my youth I often wanted to smash things up and I'd be damned if the Damned got there first”. My dad probably doesn't remember this, but I do. Years later, I discovered the Damned for myself, after finding a CD copy of 'Machine Gun Etiquette' and buying it for him, and have since forever associated Dad as being a big fan of that band. And no amount of mum saying 'But he HATES the Hi Fi!' could stop me from buying him a ticket to their show for Christmas. What followed was a lovely daddy-daughter evening, where I ate a leek tart at a restaurant that served possum, and had 2 glasses of very nice wine (Dad = still able to drive; me = wheeeeeeeee!)

The Damned were scheduled to start at 9.30, a welcome early start for the Hi Fi – I still remember walking out of there after 1am one night while Tim Rogers was continuing to prance about. We still had a half hour wait ahead of us, so grabbed a drink as Dad lamented on how much he hated the Hi Fi: Me- "Well the Tivoli has a name behind it where as the Hi Fi is still gaining one." Dad- "The Hi Fi has a name. It's “crap”." 
Granted, it is a pretty terrible sounding venue, not quite as bad as Woodland, but one of those place where it is better to be situated in the middle back area than anywhere else. And when you're at a "rock show", you naturally want to experience it as close as possible, am I right?

Which is exactly what happened. Expecting myself to lead the way into the surprisingly large, goth-dressed crowd of all ages, Dad actually took the initiative to force us through people with gusto, pushing us through without a thought for some of the annoyed comments they gave. Slightly embarrassed from being "those people", I also couldn't help but be proud of my Dad the middle aged pusher-inner-er. How very rock & roll. 

The band kicked off with cheers from the crowd, with an immediately gritty tune I didn't recognise; "Neat Neat Neat". The band wasn't overly 'dressed up' as what must have been the case in their heyday, but they were definitely in signature style. Captain Sensible looked like he had stepped out of a french cartoon with his trademark beret and sunnies, and a brightly striped shirt with "FREAK" written on it. Lead singer Dave Vanian was only subtly vampirish with suit, sunnies and a slightly pasty appearance. Together they looked like a motley crew of ageing dudes still kind of stuck in the 70's but with absolutely no shame.

Together they played a tight, energetic set, which sounded pretty decent despite the aforementioned limitations of the Hi Fi. Avian and Sensible's voices sounded slightly matured but still strong and sporting that Brit-punk accent. To me, their style and sound has always felt similar to that of the Stranglers, and I couldn't help thinking that throughout their show. Luckily for me they played a nice helping of 'Machine Gun Etiquette' songs, including "I Just Can't Be Happy Today", and "Love Song", as well as their other big hit, "New Rose", and many other songs that held true to their raw style. There was a lot I didn't know, but all of it was pleasing to my ears and bopping feet, and reminded me of how much I love this era's music. Even though I'm too young to ever really fully appreciate what it was all about, the punk rock and new wave of the 1970's-1980's somehow makes me feel at home, safe and happy. Maybe, or likely, it's just my parents' constant churning out of its music in my younger years that has done that for me; combined with the fact that its songs will always be there, untainted, permanent and still fresh, while new music continues to deteriorate with re-hashing, mass production and autotune.

bassist Stu West, Dave, and Sideshow Bob (aka Monty Oxy Moron)

Anyway, the show continued with the band not losing an atom of energy, and sharing their joy at playing their catalogue to an old and new audience. Capt. Sensible and at times Dave addressed the crowd between songs with reminiscence, such as Sensible's musings about Malcom McLaren, and his acknowledgement of the Saints: "Everyone thought the Sex Pistols started punk. But I think it was the band right here that did it!" Cue cheers and claps. After slogging through a fair amount of typically short punk tunes, they exited for a few minutes in preparation for their encore. I have to say, waits for encores have been very short lately, which has been both pleasing and efficient. Good job bands!
They came out with their 1985 hit cover "Eloise". During the show I had been looking over at my dad from time to time to ensure he was enjoying himself, which he appeared to, but I knew that it would have all been given a sub-par rating if they didn't play "Smash It Up" (parts 1 AND 2). At this point I suddenly worried they weren't going to play it. But luckily, as "Eloise" finished, the moment came when Dave announced the next song. The opening chords of "Smash It Up parts 1 and 2" began and the already energetic vibe was increased 3 fold. As part 1 kicked into part 2, I couldn't help but jump at the awesomeness. It was a wall of raw, explosive, joyous sound (always *good for a Hi Fi gig*). Dad looked a bit more smiley. As the song finally subsided in it's lazy final lyrics, it was an awesome ending to the show. We battled the crowd out with ringing ears and I finally felt comforted in my choice of birthday present for Dad; we were both glad we came. The Damned has proven that despite it being 2012, they can still draw a crowd and replicate the feel of 1979, showing there is a reason they still stand out as one of the first successful punk bands of all time.

Then, while youtubing for this post, I found this cover of Love's "Alone Again Or". Every punk band that doesn't die with the genre inevitably ends up making musical mistakes. But why did they do this? It just sounds the same but with 80's tackiness splashed all over it. WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???? Why.


8 red berets out of 10.