About Bowie

 Try to find a David Bowie obituary that doesn’t describe the artist as “chameleonic.” It won’t be easy, as too many critics plot a lazy way to classify a musician who defied simple labels.

For me, his albums often represent moods. Undeniable hooks, graceful vocals and top-notch instrumentation no matter the genre define his best moments. Scary Monsters could only come at the end of the 70s, just as Space Oddity fit the Sixties’ end. The Next Day has moments of a man taking stock of his life.

 Once I claimed that if Bowie died in 1979, he would be remembered as fondly as the Beatles. Living into 2016, his body of work does not fall far from the lofty heights of the Fab Four. The string of great 1970s releases is almost unmatched, and work from subsequent decades boasts far more hits than duds. His influence runs broad and deep, from classic albums to singles embedded in the popular consciousness.

I came to the deep waters of Bowie’s music one toe at a time. By high school I knew the big Eighties singles (Let's Dance, China Girl), Tin Machine and Ziggy Stardust. Somewhere after Nirvana Unplugged came out, I remember sitting in Brett Borovic’s basement, listening to Bowie's The Man Who Sold the World. Our initial reaction: “Nirvana didn’t change much.”

On repeat listens, what Nirvana could not replicate grew clear – Bowie’s washed-out vocals, world-weariness and his ominous, wordless moans and howls over the outro. Soon, The Man Who Sold the World turned into the anchor of my favorite David Bowie album, a titled track wedged between little-known masterpieces from All the Madmen to Black Country Rock to She Shook Me Cold.

During college, I found his electronic work and collaboration with Trent Reznor stayed in steady rotation. ChangesBowie stayed in my car’s CD player for long stretches. From there, Ziggy Stardust and Hunky Dory were the obvious next steps. In form, Hunky Dory reminds me of Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush – it sums up all that the artist does best without any retreads.

The breadth of his catalog works in favor of casual fans. Need to dance a little? You can pick Young Americans or Scary Monsters. Need something that doesn’t quite make sense? Go with Low - even if it hits you immediately, you'll raise an eyebrow or two along the way. 

How does an artist stay fresh across almost a half-century, always touching on genres at the right moment? Good choice in friends went a long way for Bowie.

Bowie always boasted top-notch collaborators – guitarist/arranger Mick Ronson, longtime producer Tony Visconti, Brian Eno, Robert Fripp, etc. The best albums also bear their fingerprints. The kraut-rock of the Berlin trilogy sometimes leaves me cold, but few artists ever put out a compelling string of songs as on Heroes – I never tire of Beauty and the Beast, Joe the Lion, Heroes and Sons of the Silent Age. The Next Day was criticized as being too close to Bowie’s past efforts. Still, it was an enjoyable return to form for an artist thought retired.

Occasionally he broke his decade-long absence. When TV on the Radio’s Province debuted, I immediately knew the rich yet delicate backing voice, giving the song depth it would have otherwise lacked. Moments like that make me miss David Bowie the most. He could always surprise, he could bend a song to greater heights, even if he was just a guest vocalist.

 As for his artistic leaps, I always thought of All the Madman as containing a great creative ethos in its chorus –“I’d rather stay here with all the madmen, than perish with the sad men roaming free.” Now that he has perished, there’s nothing sad to find in his decades of innovative song.