I was never a shout it out fan of David Bowie like I am of The Who. I’ve always been more of a quietly passionate fan, repeatedly listening to his stuff over the years. I adored his music, have danced by myself to his stuff whilst cooking in the kitchen, have used it as a soundtrack whilst drawing. I could pick a gloriously obscure song of his as my favourite track, but my favourite will always be Life on Mars. It’s the one song that I have to stop what I’m doing, turn up the volume, close my eyes and embrace the sheer beauty of it.
My reaction to his death has surprised even me. I’ve never really grieved over someone I didn’t know. I woke up this morning, checked twitter, clarified in stunned disbelief as to whether the news was a hoax, cried and then sobbed as I played Life on Mars. Even though as I said, I’ve loved his work, I never realised just how much his music touched my life until today. I’ve been crying at every song that’s been played (yes we’re on a Bowie kick today).
Over the weekend, I’ve been looking forward to listening to Blackstar today. I’d planned on listening to it as I unpacked the weekly grocery shop and prepped dinner. But with the news, I waited and Q and I listened to the album together. It was as if, knowing it was his last album, he channeled every era of his career and left the world knowing he had delivered something sublime. We’ve ordered the cd and have the MP3 tracks on our phones.
Tonight we’ll be watching Labyrinth and when the child has gone to bed, we’ll be watching the Bowie documentary on iplayer and The Man Who Fell To Earth.
This evening I went for a smoke. The skies were crystal clear and I stood looking at the stars whilst listening to Heroes. Just as the song started to fade at the end, a very bright meteor flew across the sky.
I suppose it could only be more of a cliché moment had I been listening to Starman…
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