David Bowie was my first concert. Or, the first concert I remember. My recently-separated mom got tickets to see him with her girlfriend, only said girlfriend bailed, so it was me she dragged along to the old Tampa Stadium, where the Thin White Duke landed on September 19, 1987 with his big, bombastic “Glass Spider Tour.”I wish I could regale you with tales of how he was lowered to the stage seated in a shiny silver chair, clad all in red and accompanied by a full fleet of back-up dancers, pranced his way through a series of choreographed vignettes while commanding the stage with a setlist touching on hits at the time, elder fare and unexpected deeper cuts, and ending the dazzling performance in a gold lame leather suit replete with winged cowboy boots. And I sang and pranced along the whole while long.
Sadly, I can only relate what I know to have happened, not what I actually witnessed. I was 7, and spent most of the show curled up next to my mom on a concrete bleacher in the stadium’s nosebleed section, trying to get some shut-eye. I don’t remember much other than the bright burst of lights that washed over the place when the concert started. The roar of the crowd that interrupted my sleeping. Discomfort. General unhappiness. Seriously, people, I was 7! And I’d like to point out that if my mom had explained to me that the lead dude in one of my three favorite films at the time (Labyrinth), was the same dude who was on the stage that night, I probably would have paid better attention. I’d like to think so, anyway.
Concert aside, my childhood is littered with snippets of Bowie despite being mostly nonexistent in my parents’ vinyl library. My dad’s interest was nonexistent while my mom’s was spurred by his 1980s material, though she didn’t even own a single album by him. I grew to know him from Labyrinth, from his New Wave style and that era's hits catalog. One of the earliest videos I remember seeing on MTV was his re-imagining of that old Motown tune with Mick Jagger, “Dancing in the Street,” hearing kids in my daycare van joking about how those two went to bed together (which, at the time, I thought confusing and physically impossible).
I was introduced to his later material by the collective subconscious; radio, television, films, bands I dug covering his material. I didn’t hear “Sound and Vision” until the Sea and Cake forced me to go looking for Bowie's original, and I’m sure I'm not the only one who first heard “Man Who Sold the World” when Nirvana performed it on MTV Unplugged. That material — released from the late ‘60s through ‘70s — shaped and molded the man I grew to know in the '80s, and was more adventurous and avant garde that the tunes I was exposed to as a kid, while still feeling like they were from another time and place.
But, listening to Let’s Dance, and hearing the layers of cooing on “Without You”– which still sounds so pristine two decades later, his pointed vocals so theatric yet restrained – I still love it best of them all. It’s a nostalgia thing.
I wanted to go as David Bowie ala 1973’s Aladdin Sane this past Halloween. I got the idea from an advertisement in The Stranger for a themed Halloween party, where everyone was encouraged to come dressed in costumes inspired by album covers. Only, I was lazy, couldn’t get the proper makeup together in time nor figure out just how to achieve that glorious orange pre-mullet mane, so I opted to forgo it all together. Now I wish I’d gone to the trouble. He was definitely worthy of it.
Yesterday, I woke to a slew of messages that alerted me to his passing even before I'd reached full consciousness, and it left me feeling snarly and restless all day, as I pondered the fact that I'd reached the point when all my idols were falling, one by one, while I looked on in disbelief and horror that they weren't the immortal creatures I'd always assumed.
Rest in peace you fine, pioneer. And if there’s a rock n’ roll heaven, I’m sure you’re bringing plenty of style to the place – while raising some classy British hell.
SOME COMMENTS FROM OTHER CL STAFFERS
How does one summarize or convey the meaning or the impact of one indescribable force of nature?
How can I put into words the importance, the significance or the profound influence David Bowie has had over me for the majority of my life?
How do I capture the attraction I've always had to his mind, his creativity, his style, his swagger, his courage or his fearlessness?
David Bowie didn't provide me with all the answers I was seeking in my adolescence. But his words armed me with the courage to go find them on my own.
David Bowie didn't stop close-minded people from calling me a queer or a weirdo or of making fun of me. But his presence made me feel like it was okay to be myself.
David Bowie didn't invent music or art. But he made it more relatable and engaging for so many of us.
For that and for so many other reasons, so much of what I am is a true testament to the existence of David Bowie.
There will never be another. —Gabe E.
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David Bowie already released over a dozen albums by the time I was born. His commitment to true individuality and making art influenced so many of the artists I love as well as many of my friends that I care so deeply about. It’s heavy to know know that my life, whether I cared about Bowie or not, was touched by him. His mere existence empowered so many who experienced it whether on record, video, or live. It’s very rare to immediately feel like a void in the world has been created in the world. I hope that his legacy will be even more celebrated than his time here on Earth. –Ray Roa ***
For me and many people my age, we not only grew up with older siblings or parents teaching us about David Bowie along with the Stones and Beatles, his videos ushered in the MTV video revolution and his movies —The Man Who Sold the World, Absolute Beginners, Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, among them — lured us into staying up late on weekends, whether we watched them on VHS or USA's Night Flight. An unabashed crooner who belted out like no other and musical genius who defied genre and expectations, Bowie made us realize that we didn't have to do what we were told. We could listen to our inner muse and let the colors and freakiness fly and be as beautiful, grotesque, poetic, tender, angry and disjointed as our inspirations and emotions dictated. He taught us that we could appreciate the musical styles of older generations. Or, we could play with the spooky, atmospheric sounds of new gizmos. We could be adventurous and empathetic at the same time, but most importantly, true to ourselves. Being weird didn't have to alienate. We could revel in our misfit-itude with Bowie. When The Breakfast Club premiered on the big screen so many of us cheered when we read that passage from "Changes" quoted in the beginning credits. When Labyrinth came out, we taught kids about this strange but beautiful wizard who gave us songs to sing along to, lyrics and videos to puzzle over. He also gave us plenty of lurid trysts to gossip about. If this all weren't enough, Bowie took his last curtain by giving us a surreal, otherworldly postmortem farewell oeuvre to take in after his passing. It's amazing that one person gave us so much. ... Maybe, it's true that Bowie wasn't from this world. Goodbye, Star Man. We'll miss you. –Julie G.
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I think a lot of people my age who grew up with MTV (back when they played music) had one of their first exposures to Bowie in heavy video rotation to support the Let's Dance LP, then as part of the duo with Mick Jager on the cover of Dancing in the Streets in 1985.I was 11 then and a lot of Bowie's more seminal work was wasted on my youth. But then Labyrinth came around in 1986 and so did I. That was a defining moment for me in regards to seeing Bowie beyond just a flamboyant ‘80s pop star... he was the total package.
I never was what one could call a diehard fan, but due to my love for another band, Phish, eight years later, I was reacquainted with his magical force. Hell – my favorite band was doing a song about him!
Throw in some amazing film cameos (Zoolander and Basquiat) and his music scored in Portuguese for The Life Aquatic and it is clear that Bowie and his influence wove through my personal gestalt.
Today was a black star day for sure. Thank you, Ziggy! –Chris M.
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More here and here.Bonus playlist below features some favorite Bowie tracks along with some fine re-imaginings by other artists...