I, like many people around the world, have been hit pretty hard by the passing of David Bowie, and that was by design. I saw the announcement in my news feed from his official page within a minute of it being posted. "What?!?! This can't be real." I trawled the thousands of comments that appeared like raindrops from a breaking storm to get verification. Shock and sadness were immediately evident, as was the word "Hoax". I don't like to be made a fool by sick jokes so I did a quick search and found a website that already claimed to verify it as a hoax. Phew!
I didn't check the Internet again until I was on my way home, and found the world bursting with news of its truth and despair at the thought we had just lost one of the greats. I felt sick. I felt angry. I felt sad. A range of emotions the dead auteur had intended me to feel. It’s exactly what he wanted.
He knew he was dying for 18 months prior to it occurring, and he used that time to make death his ultimate statement. A multi-platform piece, that included the release of an album, two music videos/short films and the cessation to function as a biological organism.
Blackstar, his final album, pensively ruminates on his life, legacy and afterlife. But as is his art, it defied expectations. Instead of a gentle somber album it is energetic. Instead of making a series of concrete statements of lessons learnt, wisdom passed on for future generations - he opts to don a series of cryptic lenses to look both back and forward. Rather than genteel it is explicit. Rather than resigned and boring, it’s driven and vibrant.
“Something happened on the day he died. His spirit rose a metre then stepped aside.
Somebody else took his place and bravely cried. ‘I’m a Blackstar’.
How many times does an angel fall. How many people lie instead of talking tall. He trod the sacred ground he cried loud into the crowd ‘I’m a Blackstar’.”
These lyrics struck me hard on listening to the album for the first time following the news. I'd seen the music video prior to his death, and while the words were still striking, the context had significantly changed. Who is this apparent replacement? It is as though he knows. The symbolism of the black star took on multiple layers: It was a reference to his unique place in the pantheon of celebrity. The light of his fame did not shine like that of the tabloid pin-ups and cookie-cutter movie stars. His stardom was the anti-matter to that of the majority of his famous peers. It was based on his otherness. It was based on his constant introversion. A star that turned itself inside out. A black hole.
It also speaks to the entering the void of the unknown of death. This is all spelt out in no uncertain terms in the video for Blackstar. The corpse of an astronaut lies in a tattered space suit, Blackstar in the background; a reference to himself dating back to the start of his career.
A woman removes the jewel-encrusted skull from the helmet. An item of reverential, and apparent religious significance later used in a cultish ritual. A reference to what he expects will be his legacy, the cult of Bowie. The part of him that the living and future generations will value are his ideas, his genius. The video ends with the image of the astronaut's body floating toward the Blackstar - an eclipse - the unknown of the afterlife.
Overall the 10-minute video and its constituent lyrics are so heavily laden with such lyrical imagery, entire essays could be written, and yet continue to conjure alternative interpretations.
Lazarus, the second single and video released simultaneously with the album's release, is no less subtle about its subject matter. Lazarus of course being the man Jesus raised from the dead. Bowie plays the same character he plays in the previous video - the dead man. Bandages around his face and buttons on his eyes.
“Look up here, I’m in heaven. I’ve got scars that can’t be seen.”
The opening lyrics to the song. He writhes and reaches out from a hospital bed he can't escape. In another scene he writes furiously, with great verve and expressionist flair. It will be the last thing he leaves behind. A woman hides beneath his bed. Possibly waiting to take his place. When he is done, he withdraws into a wooden wardrobe, evidently a coffin. And that is the last we see of Bowie.
In "Girl Loves me" he spits gibberish, the only coherent sentences being "Where the fuck did Monday go?" and "Girl loves me." A character who's only touchstone in the chaos of his mind is the love of his wife.
The last song "I can't give everything away" speaks to the intangible nature of the riches he takes with him. His experiences, his self-aware genius. He can't keep giving when he's gone. Though I suspect he will. He already has.
Musically the album is both forward looking and retrospective. On the surface the sonic palette is modern. Contemporary artists like Beach House, TV on the Radio, Flying Lotus and Radiohead seem obvious, but a consistent thread of saxophone runs through most of the songs. It was his first instrument. Heavy drum-beats and bass lines, invoke the influence of hip-hop. Restive drums and desperate horns recall free jazz - quite likely the influence that Kendrick Lamar had on the album. Then Later in the album the familiar jangly strum of an acoustic guitar calls to mind his first hit, Space Oddity. Influenced by Stanley Kubrick the pre-eminent auteur of cinema as art, Bowie began his career as the pre-eminent auteur of life as art.
I am a believer in the concept of eudemonia; count no man happy until his end is known. It was this thought that kept me going during some darker periods in my own life, and it is this concept that I think David Bowie has embodied better than any artist I am aware of. He made his end a vibrant, confronting artwork. He never shied away from his demons, they were there for all to see and hear. He challenged the status quo in every area of his life and never gave anyone the opportunity to challenge his authenticity because he always told the truth.
Where other flamboyant stars sought to ensure their legacy through lies, and propaganda. Bowie left a groundbreaking, yet concise body of work on which to be judged. Rather than hide his sexuality, it permeated his public life and work. Contrast this with Liberace who created museums in his own honour, literally created others in his own image, yet perjured himself in court denying his own sexuality only to have his secrets revealed and his legacy-building efforts destroyed within moments of his death.
David Bowie left it all on the field. To be interpreted, and reinterpreted. Rather than announcing the terminal nature of his illness he used what time he had to construct the ultimate examination and expression of death. He didn't want the media staking out a deathwatch; the subject of a pity story. He found no pity in his end. He found inspiration. He died as he lived: big, brave, rigorously creative, bright and dark. That's how I want to go.
Yule
PS: Our show this coming Saturday will be dedicated to David Bowie with a Dj playing nothing but his tunes before, after and between sets. I may even hazard a dedication myself.