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.

 

I said do it again, do it again (turn around GO BACK)

GOMA, or the gallery of modern art to you non-brisbane folks, is an absolute godsend and has improved Brisbane million fold. At the moment they are exhibiting "Let There Be Rock", a cinema program, where they are showing an amazing range of musical act movies, from The Wall to A Hard Days Night to Spinal Tap to D!G... Ahhh it's a fantastic program. You can, no should, check it out here: http://qag.qld.gov.au/cinematheque/current/let_there_be_rock.

Anyway there are so many I am hoping to see, and today I started with probably the number one movie on my must see list, D A Pennebaker's Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. I'd seen it before many years ago on DVD, and it was before my insane David Bowie obsession truly formed, so I had not retained quite so much of it. As it stood, it was a striking documentary, simply capturing the last show of the Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars tour, and the 'last show we'll ever do' (everyone of course freaking out until realising that the character of Ziggy Stardust and his Spiders were disappearing, eventually making room for Bowie's next character). I sat there mesmerized and enchanted by the entire film, heart in throat as if I was actually an audience member with 70's hair and undying adulation for the glittered slenderman in front of me. I found it difficult not to clap at the end of each song and was relieved when audience members eventually relented and did so themselves.

Let's get real here though people, in many aspects it's not the best filmed documentary. Onstage the camera captures much of Bowie and the band's action, including wonderful detail... for example, the close up while he plays the last verses of "My Death", captures a tear forming and streaming slowly, adding extra depth and passion to the words of the song. However, any camera work directed at the audience is pretty shockingly done, so that there are great big spaces of darkness, amid bad resolution shots of ladies with massive glasses and screaming mouths. It's also weirdly put together, so that a few of Bowie's entrances are totally missed or delayed, with the camera choosing to focus on blurry audience members instead.

What makes it, is him, and the band. Mick Woodmansey, while mostly hidden from the camera, is dynamite on the drum kit, nailing every fill and driving the whole process. Trevor Bolder also doesn't share as much film time, but his presence on the bass is everywhere. Mick Ronson, god of guitar, is nothing short of fucking motherfucking amazing. He effortlessly fingers the electric like he could do it in his sleep and totally steals the show. Meanwhile, Bowie takes his place front and centre, gaunt and bony, with his electrified hair, awful teeth and multiple coloured eyes, no doubt in full throe of his cocaine addiction, and obviously so. Through what feels like 20 costume changes and androgynous makeup, his emotion filled vocals, theatrical stage moves, and his general Bowie charm, this plain and simply ugly man, turns into a sexual madman. Yes, had I been a teenager (or anyone really) in 1973, I would have been absolutely mad for it. David Bowie, and his Ziggy Stardust persona, is a perfect example of what a presentation of oneself can do for one's charisma and desirability. As well as a little mystery.

I honestly do NOT believe in this day and age that anything as amazing and anyone as talented and creative and dynamic as Bowie will ever take over music and life as much as he has. Granted, his 80's-90's catalogue is pretty lacking, but dammit, the 80's-90's was kind of a shitty era for consistently good music (thanks to marketing and the paint by numbers industry). But the humorous thing about that scene in 'Extras' with Andy Millman coming up to his idol to wonder if he'd sold out, was that, at least in the decade where he held the world in the palm of his hand, David Bowie could never say that he had sold out. He broke so many rules in the music world, through his personae, his imprint on the media, and most of all, his music. Half of 'Heroes' is rarely listenable to me. 'Low', is my parents worst nightmare. But Bowie wasn't interested in pleasing a body of people, he was interested in experimenting, trying different sounds, and as a result, "Low" was WAY ahead of its time. He has inspired more artists than people realise, even if they turn into horrible pop monsters like Lady Gaga.

After this film warmed my heart, I couldn't help but lament on the fact that I do not live in the 70's, and Pennebaker's film was the closest I was ever going to get to that amazing moment. David Bowie may (oh, PLEASE) tour here again, and it will be epic... I would be the happiest girl in the room would it happen. But of course, he is a much saner, and older person now (and I have to say, he's aged better than he should have). The magic of glam, groundbreaking live music is over, and in its place is a memento of what was. The what was, I never experienced nor ever will.

In the 60's and 70's, what was played on the radio, was actually pretty good. Have you ever wished you were born in another era or place, and you got stuck here when you were supposed to be somewhere else? Sometimes I feel mad that I'm in a world where Justin Bieber is a household name, and a The Books gig isn't even half sold out in a small room.

But I'll stop feeling mad, and instead grateful that I got to see a classic live performance on a big screen, and thank GOMA for making it happen, and see some more terrific shows at the same venue. AND SO WILL YOU.