It's over a fortnight now since David Bowie unbelievably passed away. Since then, I don't think I've listened to or read about any other thing on earth that didn't concern him - albums, songs, interviews, out-takes, world views, parodies, obituaries, everything about him. I'm really not interested in much else at the moment. Even now I'm sad, but not as much as I was when I woke up to the news last Monday morning. To say 'numbed' would be an understatement and I'm sure the majority of you felt the same way.
Yeah, all you had to do that awful day was to look at any screen on the planet and you could tell that the whole world was hit for six. It must've been the most coverage the death of any star has ever received. Elvis, John, Hank were big but ...
Yet, while there was good reason for all the publicity, i.e. his being Bowie, it was the
personal nature of our
collective reaction to his death that has given me most pause for thought. Why was I, and maybe you, and many millions of others, so affected by his passing? Why did it feel like a personal bereavement?
I reckon the reason, my reason, is because of the huge part he played in my life ever since I became conscious of things called records. Much more than any other artist, every one that he released took on a powerful significance of its own, had a meaning intended only for me - to the extent that they (and thus him) informed and then became part of my
life! So on the day that he died, a part of me, a part of that life, died too. As did parts of the lives of millions of others, I'd wager. So much so that while we were all grieving his loss, we were probably grieving our own personal losses too - and reflecting as well on our own mortality. Which is heavy ... but ye know what I mean!
Either way though, the peerless DB has gone now and I miss him much. But at least he's left us here to face our finite futures with his memory and his brilliant legacy to guide us. And for that I say a million thanks.
RIP DB.
More soon ...
Rest well, sweet prince.
