Four years ago, for example, I could say I appreciated and even admired Lady Gaga (Bowie's most assured progeny, at the time). But when my 14-year-old daughter said the same thing, it meant something on a very different scale. She got Gaga.
Bowie was never that for me. I could appreciate the freakiness -- thanks to him, and a heap of others, my generation pretty much accepted freakiness as our birthright. But I never bought anything by Bowie. I was happy enough to hear him on the radio -- I never switched the station when he came on, but I never put down the money, either. He was too poppy, too focused on casting a broad, popular spell. I needed crunch, dammit -- something with a little more dissonance.
Then in 1989 he formed the distinctly metallic Tin Machine.
They faced some stiff competition -- Lou Reed and Jane's Addiction, for starters. Nevertheless I put down the money and took home my first David Bowie project. I was 24.
It hasn't aged well (and this isn't the most durable song on the album) but I still appreciate Bowie's game face. And any opportunity to bring Reeves Gabrels' guitar to the fore is always welcome.
RIP, Jones. And thank you for the indefatigable, lifelong performance -- "a supple text that can be endlessly reinterpreted."
4 comments:
Eloquently put. I was a fan until he became mainstream. I felt at the time, he sold out. Now I see it as he changed with the times. That was something I was unwilling to do during the 80s. Long live his freakishness of the 70s.
Hey Liane -- thanks for chiming in! The suit, the hair, the swagger -- he could have been the manager of a Le Chateau outlet, no? And then Robert Palmer just had to join him. How were we supposed to fly our freak flag after that?
Yes, well... Although I am technically a teen of the 80s, not a lot of good music came out of that time. Did like the big hair though, got to be a whopping 5 ft. Lol.
Ha! "Mousse" was the word (you might say).
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