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Jan. 11th, 2016 09:44 pm
Some cat from Japan
David Bowie is someone who I've always experienced at something of a remove. He's one of those pioneers without whom the stuff I've loved wouldn't've existed, but I've never gotten the same enjoyment of his work as I have from the work it spawned. (Despite years of being subjected to the classic rock station in my hometown, I'll wager I've listened to Bauhaus' cover of "Ziggy Stardust" more time than I have Bowie's original. And I know I've listened to Schilling's "Major Tom (Coming Home)" more times than I have "Space Oddity".) I didn't even really make the connexion until several years back when I saw Velvet Goldmine and realised how much the 80s New Wave (and in particular the New Romantic movement) was a reincarnation of glam rock--and this despite the evidence staring me right in the face for years in the form of the Blitz kids marching through the "Ashes to Ashes" video[*].
So all my most poignant memories of Bowie are really memories of friends who loved Bowie. Like my high school friend (now a moderately successful performer in NYC) who would dissect his personae for you at the merest provocation. Or the time I wormed myself back into![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladytiamat's good graces by translating an interview with him in Der Spiegel on the fly. By the time I really became aware of him, it was during his more "corporate" Let's Dance/Tin Machine period. I never owned those albums, and when he vanished from the pop airwaves (and later when I stopped listening to radio altogether) he faded from my memory. Just a few months back, I hunted up some of his more recent work on YouTube and tried to give it chance but it just didn't grab me.
Vicarious experiences can still be powerful ones, however, and as I was lying in bed scrolling through my friends' and acquaintances' heartfelt tributes on social media, I felt my eyes grow wet. I don't have to enjoy or even understand someone's art to recognise when my society has lost a major artist. But my personal reaction was, after learning his age, to findmonshu and tell him, "Dude, you outlived Bowie."
[*] I was genuinely surprised to discover that this single came out the same year as "Fashion", because "Ashes to Ashes" feels so 80s and "Fashion" so 70s. Plus I have vivid memories of seeing the video on MTV and I could've sworn we didn't get cable until 1981 at the earliest.
So all my most poignant memories of Bowie are really memories of friends who loved Bowie. Like my high school friend (now a moderately successful performer in NYC) who would dissect his personae for you at the merest provocation. Or the time I wormed myself back into
ladytiamat's good graces by translating an interview with him in Der Spiegel on the fly. By the time I really became aware of him, it was during his more "corporate" Let's Dance/Tin Machine period. I never owned those albums, and when he vanished from the pop airwaves (and later when I stopped listening to radio altogether) he faded from my memory. Just a few months back, I hunted up some of his more recent work on YouTube and tried to give it chance but it just didn't grab me.Vicarious experiences can still be powerful ones, however, and as I was lying in bed scrolling through my friends' and acquaintances' heartfelt tributes on social media, I felt my eyes grow wet. I don't have to enjoy or even understand someone's art to recognise when my society has lost a major artist. But my personal reaction was, after learning his age, to find
monshu and tell him, "Dude, you outlived Bowie."[*] I was genuinely surprised to discover that this single came out the same year as "Fashion", because "Ashes to Ashes" feels so 80s and "Fashion" so 70s. Plus I have vivid memories of seeing the video on MTV and I could've sworn we didn't get cable until 1981 at the earliest.