Let me start off with an admission: I’m not a huge David Bowie fan. I like much of his stuff (Space Oddity, Young Americans, Modern Love) and some not so much (Fame, Changes). Then there’s the downright inexplicable, and I’m not even talking about The Thin White Duke. (Yeah, looking at you Mick Jagger!)
But even though I can’t classify myself a die-hard Bowie fan, when I woke this morning to the news of his death, I was sad. Really sad. He was part of the landscape of my childhood, always present in some form or another…on my MTV (back when the M stood for Music not Moronic), on my radio, in my movies. He was Ziggy Stardust, Major Tom, the Goblin King…a rock-and-roll chameleon who changed personas almost as often as Katy Perry changes hair color. Even the name we know him by, David Bowie, is a persona.
My (then) 8-year-old son as Major Tom for Halloween. Not an astronaut, Major Tom.
One thing never changed, and that was his unique sound. Whether you like his music or not, there’s no denying he was a cultural icon whose influence has been and will be felt for years to come. I respect and admire his contribution to music–heck, his contribution to the world as a whole.
His death means his last album, released this past Friday, truly is his last album. That’s what makes me most sad. There will never again be a new persona or a new character for him to play, no new album or single or appearance to look forward to. David Bowie takes his creative genius with him to the beyond. And the world is all the poorer for that.
Rest in Peace, Ziggy… Rest in Peace…
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