A Crash Course for the Ravers


David Bowie died just after his 69th birthday, on January 10, 2016, and I had a hard time dealing with it. This is a little ridiculous. It’s not as if I ever met the man. My fandom isn’t lifelong. I’m not encyclopedic on his work. I hadn’t even listened to his last album. And god knows there are more important things in the world to be unhappy about.2016-01-16 09.26.34

But, as a wise person said,

I grew up on Labyrinth. Another Bowie film introduced me to my great World War II passion. One of my novel’s main characters is indirectly named after him. More even than others’, his death feels like the end of an era. For whatever reason, I’m stuck on this sidewalk.

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My photo of Bowie and Iman’s doorstep, Soho, Manhattan, January 17, 2016

So here’s what I’m up to: A chronological festival hearing afresh the complete(ish) recorded works of David Bowie. One album(ish) at a time until I can sing along. Just you and me, Davy boy.

It’s a challenge. Bowie’s recording career lasted over fifty years, with a rare percentage of quality and innovation – not much to skim over. I’m much too accustomed to skipping around, sampling musical moods. But I think the Starman still has something to teach me.

A Crash Course for the Ravers

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