Bowie

Okay.

I have a wee bit of an addiction. An infatuation. An obsession. It's taken over my life, my thoughts, my habits and has had an effect on everything I do and how I look at the world.

I am addicted to David Bowie.



The only other musician I've been as transfixed by (at least to this degree) is Dave Matthews. But that infatuation started nearly two decades ago and was a slow build. (And I do have a tendency to become completely invested in the life of whoever's biography I am reading. The Margot Fonteyn obsession was particularly intense.) I still love Dave Matthews and have utmost respect for his talent and the art he creates. But, for the moment at least, he's been upstaged.

David Bowie has always been on my radar. I remember hearing his music on the radio in the car (back before my parents made the misguided switch to country music stations). "Modern Love" was one of my favorites as a kid. I liked "Fame" but regarded it as a bit of a novelty tune (ah, youth). "Space Oddity" was a bit of a novelty to me too, even then, but I now regard it with respect as the revelation it was at the time. "Let's Dance" got a lot of radio play. "Changes", "Rebel Rebel", "All the Young Dudes", "Young Americans", they were all there in my head.

But it was a casual relationship. I knew of Bowie. I knew what songs he did. And I liked the songs. I could recognize him in a line-up. I even knew he was British.

It became more serious when I discovered he was built into the soundtrack of my favorite movie, "Moulin Rouge!" Why do I love this movie? Mostly for the soundtrack, honestly, but I also deeply love the aesthetic, the characters, and the "find true love and then that love is lost" theme (which hits a bit close to home for me). The colors, the costumes, the Bohemian lifestyle and values, the fantastic musical numbers (I am, deep down, a stage rat), and how the modern music complements the time period of the story.

Hearing Bowie's gorgeous rendition of "Nature Boy" cemented him into my affections. One of my favorite melodies, performed so distinctively, without taking away too much from the perfection of the lyrics and line. His version is instantly recognizable. Sad, hopeful, distant, but sweet. His voice on the soundtrack I listened to repeatedly, along with his song "'Heroes'" interpolated into the Elephant Love Medley, became embedded into my brain.

The whole movie is a perfect intersection of every lovely thing I embraced then and now. It also coincided with a relationship I was in with a writer who also had a deep affection for "Moulin Rouge!" Music, like certain scents, can bring feelings, impressions and memories rushing back to you in an instant. Nostalgia, you know. And David Bowie was part of that perfect intersection.

Anyway, so after "Moulin Rouge!" life goes on. Events happen. The casual Bowie admirer in me picks up "ChangesBowie".

Fast forward to the day he died. I remember lying in bed, scrolling through the Facebook, trying to wake up to great ready for work. Someone posts an article that Bowie died. "Maybe it's a hoax", I think, as celebrity death hoaxes were a bit of a thing for a while. I google the news for confirmation. It's true. Our dear Starman had died of cancer. So shocking, I think, because it wasn't widely known that he was sick. I was sad. Genuinely sad.

That was a bit over two years ago now and my Bowie Binge has picked up steam. I held off until the immediate deluge of post-rock star death hysteria had passed. I also wanted to be sure that my fascination held beyond simply the occasion of his death. If it's popular, I hate it. Haha

Which brings us here. Now. I'm reading a weirdly put together biography (of sorts) by Paul Morely. I have collected a few more albums (and am on the hunt for several more). I've read the articles and watched the interviews and (some of) the movies. I've time-hopped his career: a glancing blow at his early stuff, a bit deeper look into who the hell was Ziggy Stardust (and where were the Spiders?!), digging through his cocaine years and the plastic soul, decoding "Station to Station", learning about Berlin, retracing his steps through the 80s when he seemed to lose his way, poking through the 90s where he came crashing back (literally, crashing. His 90s stuff is amazing, industrial, and noisy. I like it.), sifting through his artwork and his reading list, falling in love with the surprise album of 2013 ("The Next Day"), and finally, accepting "Blackstar".

Is this too much? I don't consider myself a rabid fan. I don't get into arguments with strangers over their opinions and I don't intend to. Don't care for David Bowie's music? Fine with me. Go listen to something else. But I have become a more devoted fan. And I've learned some things from this deep look at the life of a particularly off-beat rock star.

Bowie was a workaholic, and I like to think we have similar work ethics. But he was so creative and able to do anything that he imagined. I aspire to be more like that. Before the Bowie Binge, I had a lot of ideas for what I wanted to do or to create or to learn, but I didn't know how to approach these ideas and had a lot of dead days. Dead days are the days where you don't manage to get anything done. You go to work, you come home, and stare at the television or a computer screen. Maybe you're tired or depressed, but nothing of value to your soul gets done. One more day lost not chasing after personal projects or goals. Those days feel horrible. You didn't read the book, you didn't practice the music, you didn't make the Thing. One day of your life gone with nothing to show for it.

Now I feel like I have the push to make (nearly) everyday an accomplish-something day. Fewer dead days. Which is why this blog is suddenly back from the dead. It's why I've learned to edit and have started making videos. I've finished the draft of my play. It's why I've been more ready to start doing the things I've only casually considered attempting to do. Less watching others do the things I want to do and more making myself do those things. Even if I fail I will learn from it. We most often regret the things we don't do. And I want to do more.

What would David Bowie do? I'm not quite able to definitively say what the answer to that question is, but I know he'd make a decision and see it through. He'd keep reaching for the next thing, and then the next thing. And now I'm going to do that too.