RIP, David Bowie

Rebel Rebel

I'm not a student of David Bowie. You won't get me waxing about Bowie deep cuts or some of his experimental forays. But his work wormed its way right along with me from the years I spent listening to Classic Rock radio right through to when my tastes changed to things a little more left of center. I'm sure Bowie helped me along that journey. That was his magic, I guess. Even his biggest, most mainstream hits defied classification or pigeonholing. Everybody loves a Bowie song, from garage rockers to punks to fans of pop or electronica. Everybody, at some point, had their mind expanded or opened -- even if only a little -- by Bowie's genius.

"Under Pressure." 11 years old, and I loved this damn song. I had no idea about the politics behind it, but it spoke to me by just being so epic. It's a song that will keep me in the driveway until it's over.

Danny McCallum and I would sit in his room after school, playing video games on his Commodore 64 and listening to Danny's brother's copy of Changesonebowie on the turntable. Bowie's androgyny was something alien to a couple of sheltered suburban kids in the early 80s. But the music and the artist seeped into our consciousness and into the fabric of pop culture. It made our stupid, 12-year-old brains more accepting of difference and individuality; and we never even knew it was happening.

"Space Oddity," "Changes," "Suffragette City," "The Jean Genie," "Rebel Rebel," "The Young Americans," and "Ziggy Stardust." Oh my God.

I'll admit that I kind of hated Let's Dance when I was 13 years old. It was a huge commercial success, and "Let's Dance" and "China Girl" were everywhere. To me, it was some weird rock / dance combination that I didn't get or like. I loved "Modern Love," though. I still do. Something about those other songs eventually wrapped itself around my mind; and, whenever I hear them, I think of the summer. Family vacations in Upstate New York. Feels like a weird association to have with David Bowie, but there you go.

There wasn't too much direct interaction with Bowie's music for me after the mid-80s. "Blue Jean" and the mind-blowing (to 15 year-old me anyway) "Dancing In the Street" video with Mick Jagger. Maybe "Fame 90." My high school girlfriend had a copy of Tin Machine 1 that her dad had given her, but I never really gave it a chance. I've checked out some of that Tin Machine stuff this morning, and it may deserve further research.

Madonna.

Eurythmics. Culture Club. Pet Shop Boys.

The Smiths. The Cure. New Order. Depeche Mode. Siouxsie And The Banshees. Psychedelic Furs.

Bauhaus, of course. Love And Rockets. INXS.

Nirvana's cover of "The Man Who Sold the World" on Unplugged is one of the greatest things ever aired on MTV, and I stand by that to this day.

Pixies.

Pulp. Blur.

Bloc Party. TV On The Radio. Interpol.

Gaga.

Of Montreal.

Arcade Fire.

Beach Slang.

There are 100s more bands and artists that can trace a direct line to David Bowie. The ones I listed are just the ones who have, at some moment, literally made me speak his name under my breath.

I may only be a casual David Bowie fan (a casual fan that knows all the lyrics to, maybe, a dozen or more of his classic songs). Even as a casual fan, though, I cannot measure the influence that David Bowie has had on my musical tastes. I cannot measure the influence that David Bowie has had on the way I see the world.

The cooldaughters were trying to sing along with "Changes" and "Ziggy Stardust" this morning as we drove to school. It's something that CD #1 does, even if she's never heard a song before. Kind of her way, I think, of committing something to memory that she likes. They're 12 and 9 years old in 2016. They may not know it, but David Bowie changed their life this morning.

What Year Is This Again?

I Was Sure It Was 2013

I did my usual Friday trip to Jack's today. I picked through the new vinyl and the used CD's and saw, mostly, the same stuff I see every week with a few, new additions here and there.

Jack's has a wall display where they display new releases and the top sellers in the store. As I walked out, I walked past the top sellers and this is what I saw:

1. Eric Clapton, Old Sock

2. David Bowie, The Next Day

3. Bon Jovi, What About Now

4. Jimi Hendrix, People, Hell & Angels

I think Van Morrison was number 9.

Really, people?

Nothing wrong with any of those artists, and I'm sure the albums contain some fine, fine music. But is this really where we're at now? Are we this conservative, nostalgic, resistant to change, whatever when it comes to our music? Is it a local phenomenon? Or is this saying something about the state of the music industry, who gets promoted, who buys albums?

This is just another one of those times when I'm jolted out of the little hermetically sealed bubble that is "indie" music, which, I'm beginning to agree, gets a great deal more press and attention than its cultural impact merits.

Maybe it's just temporary, and Mumford & Sons and The Lumineers will be back on top next week.

If it is more than just a temporary, local phenomenon, though, it sure would explain the lineup at that 121212 concert.

Options

Growin' Up

When I was in grad school, I also had a job.  At that most ridiculous of all rituals, The Annual Review, my boss and I discussed the possibility that I would make the leap and become a full-time employee.  He described growing up to me then as a conscious decision to reduce your options.  “I choose to attend NYU.”  “I choose to major in economics.” “I choose to work instead of pursuing a Ph.D.” “I choose marriage, kids, mortgage, …”

He wasn’t saying that reducing your options is a bad thing.  I think he was saying the opposite.  Choosing your path – making a commitment – is better than floating around aimlessly.  I made a choice on that day and took one of many steps toward becoming a grown-up.

I’ve thought of this a lot over the last few days upon hearing the news of Mariano Rivera’s career-threatening injury (He says he’s coming back, but I’ll believe it when I see it.) and the deaths of Adam “MCA” Yauch and Maurice Sendak.  You can choose to grow up by reducing your options, or it can just happen to you as the book gets closed on parts of your life, whether you want it to or not.

I was awestruck by Mariano Rivera’s performance in Game 2 of the 1995 American League Division Series against the Mariners when I was living in Seattle.  Since then, he has been a fixture of every summer and almost every fall for me.  That’s likely over now.  Adam Yauch and the Beastie Boys showed up when I was 15 or 16 years old.  My brother was ahead of me as a big fan, while I started to take real notice with the release of Ill Communication.  Still, they’ve been part of the background music of my life for all of that time.  Now, they’re finished as an act.  In 1977, I sat in the school library while Mrs. Flannery paged through Where The Wild Things Are for my first grade class.  For the last nine or so years, I’ve sat with CoolDaughters 1 & 2 through every television episode of Little Bear in all of its calming and soothing glory.  And, now, Maurice Sendak is gone, too.

It’s made me kind of sad lately to see the chapters of “Young Adult,” “Teen,” “Child” end as their component parts start to fade away, both through my own choices and just because that’s what happens.  Not to diminish the chapters of “Adult,” “Husband,” “Father” that are still in progress, but I think I chose to start “CoolDad” – buying music made by kids, going to so many shows, maintaining this blog, playing the guitar – in response to what’s been happening to some of those earlier parts.  Mid-life crisis?  I don’t know, maybe.

I do know that there are a lot of bands out there that interest me now.  I don’t have to wait for a reunion tour or album and wonder who’s going to fill in for the missing members.  Because of where I live, sometimes multiple bands I love are playing on the same night at different venues.  On those nights, I have lots of options.