I don’t post much on here anymore, mostly because I get the outlet I need for whatever I wish to say elsewhere. Usually in this funny little thing they call real-life. But now there is so many thoughts on my brain, that I felt like saying something here for a change.
Those of us who live in Europe could this morning wake up to the devastating and shocking news that David Bowie passed away on Sunday 10th of January at the age of 69. Furthermore, we learned that he had battled a publicly silent battle against cancer for the last 18 months.
I first got introduced to the wonderful collection of music that Bowie had to offer, nearly ten years ago, at the age of 13, when I heard “Life On Mars” for the first time. And how do you react to music at the age of 13? It’s different for everyone, I’m assuming, but I reacted largely with my senses and found myself loving the song, mainly because I couldn’t ever remember having heard anything like it. In addition, I remember being impressed by the lead vocals.
The following spring of 2007, having turned 14, I watched the movie Christiane F. for the first time, a movie for which David Bowie had the soundtrack, and I fell even more in love with the music (focusing as much on that as the actual movie, for better or worse).
And then the music just lingered in me, not unappreciated, but not wildly paid constant attention to either, for a long while to come. I learned some new songs, added them to my music collection and listened to them whenever I felt like it. And then my best friend started developing an obsessive interest in classic rock about a year ago, and my passion bloomed.
And thus followed a spring and summer of the two of us drunkenly screeching the lyrics to everything from “Suffragette City” to “Heroes”, horribly off key, on quite the regular basis. Yes, we went hoarse, and no, it didn’t sound pretty.
So as you can well imagine, it was true for me, as I assume it has been for many, that I always lived in the illusion that David Bowie was, in fact, rather immortal. Throughout my youth and early adulthood I have found myself in astute adoration of the legacy he has provided us with, both on a strictly musical scale, but also as one of the many faces of the sexual revolution. How he broke boundaries in his sleep without even trying.
When I only a few days ago or so learned that he had released a new album, I was thrilled and promised myself I would listen to it soon. I have yet to. School got in the way, work got in the way, you name it. Last night I actually was planning to, but then I fell asleep. And woke up these news.
It’s a tragedy, and I am still in shock, still processing. I probably will for a while more. Today I will probably play his music on constant repeat. Tomorrow I might start crying as I listen to “Space Oddity” for the eightieth time that day.
But some day I know I will celebrate his legacy more than I will mourn his presence. Because that is what the truly great legends do to us, in the end. That is why and how they are never forgotten. Because we celebrate them even long after they’ve gone.
And David Bowie will be celebrated for a long time.