On Life, Death, and Bowie
By Veronica Brown
In his career spanning over 5 decades, David Bowie released 27 studio albums - the most recent released 3 days ago on his 69th birthday. Bowie transcended not only genres, but also artistic styles, mediums and sometimes genders. When everyone else was striving to keep pace with one another, David succeeded so effortlessly in being different. Yesterday, he died.
David Bowie's "Changes" was the first song I ever bought on iTunes over ten years ago. A song I played obsessively, and that served and a coming of age anthem for me and so many others before (and after) me. There was something so beautiful about the layered saxophone, piano and guitar combined with Bowie's captivating lyricism and emotion he conveyed so purely in his voice. I would listen as he so beautifully conveyed that people change and develop every day, growing based on their experiences, memories and time, and that there was no way to control it. Time changes all things, I learned this from Bowie at a time of great transition in my life, and in some absurd way, this song by someone I had never met provided me with comfort, and such a valuable lesson. Simultaneously, I felt akin to Bowie in a way, maybe being a little out of place or odd, and gravitated to his music so deeply. Though there are millions that surely loved, admired and treasured his work far more than I did, Bowie has proved to be incredibly significant within my life, something I failed to truly recognize or rationalize until today.
A few years after connecting so deeply with "Changes" I remember rifling through my Father's record collection and finding an album (that which I now believe to in fact be Hunky Dory). I remember it so distinctly - the liner notes dedicating it to "little Zowie Bowie", the weighty record enveloped in colourful packaging. This little discovery re-captivated my interest and fascination, and ultimately lead to me to discovering his album Let's Dance (on which Stevie Ray Vaughan provides his unique guitar stylings). I was again mesmerized by David's ability to eclipse decades and connect with me so many years later. To this day I am overwhelmed by beauty of Bowie's craft and the immense skill he possessed. He was truly an artist like no other.
Many people in generations that precede mine can remember the distinct, yet distant pain that comes from learning that an artist they loved or admired had passed away - maybe it was John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix or even Kurt Cobain. Some people my age got a taste of that foreign sorrow when Michael Jackson died, languishing in his hits and remarking on the legendary life he lead. However, I had never felt that feeling before - that of losing an artist you enjoyed or cared for significantly, mourning for someone you'd never met but who entertained or connected with you so profoundly. I, naturally, felt sadness when I learned of the passing of MCA of The Beastie Boys,and felt twinges of sorrow when Robin Willaims died, but never before have I understood what it was like to lose an artist you truly cared for, until today. Today I exemplify irrational behaviour, and mourn for the life of someone that I've never met,and that never knew I existed, but whom brought me such great joy.
In Don McLean's seminal (and lengthy) hit "American Pie" he poetically recants "I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride, but something touched me deep inside,the day the music died." These lyrics ring so true for me today. One of the prolific musicians (at least within my life) has died, and indeed, something touched me deep inside. But, while I draw parallels to McLean's lyrics, I am possessed to write (and believe) that though Bowie may be gone, the music will never die. I sit here typing during my lunch break listening to Hunky Dory, the hairs on my arms standing on end as I hear him delicately cantillate "Time may change me, but I can't trace time" and I know that like so many artists before him, Bowie's spirit and legend will live on long past his death. He was a great one, an artist like no other. Today I mourn for his death but celebrate his life, for his legacy and impact will live on forever.
