The first tweets were coming through (news guy wept and told
us…) with the shocking truth. Faced with
a room full of 150 people who couldn’t give a toss, I had to take a walk outside.
It can’t be wrong to feel so deeply the loss of someone you
didn’t know personally, when that someone has been such a powerful figure in
your life. It’s a story well-told, that for anyone who grew
up in the 1970s and 80s, Bowie played a pivotal, crucial role in our youthful fantasies.
His carefully cultivated image of otherness - from Major Tom
to Ziggy to the Thin White Duke and on and on, to the many and various
characters he embodied - gave young people the licence to think outside of the
norms of society, with no excuses.
His intellect and imagination was fed by a diet of the most diverse
writing he could find, some of which, like The Divided Self by R. D. Laing or The
Stranger by Albert Camus and The Outsider by Colin Wilson, inspired his music
directly.
At Live Aid in 1985, it was Bowie’s performance at Wembley, rather
than Queen’s, that had people grabbing their phones to donate. His bold
decision to set aside time in his set to show the awful images of the Ethiopian
famine, were a true measure of the man and his humanity.
He was well ahead of the game in seeing the potential of the internet and his early bowienet platform allowed him to see at close quarters how online communities might develop.
We were all
richer for having David Bowie in our lives.
That evening in Hong Kong, I went back to my flat, opened
the windows wide and played 'Life On Mars' at full volume. It never sounded
better.



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