“… And these children
that you spit on
as they try to change their worlds
are immune to your consultations.
They’re quite aware
of what they’re going through…”
Those are the lyrics staring you in the face at the beginning of The Breakfast Club, one of the greatest movies ever made and the beginning of my journey, down the rabbit hole, into the world of David Bowie.
His new record, Blackstar, was one of our albums of choice this weekend. So, it was a surreal moment for me yesterday morning, standing in one of the industrial coolers in the school kitchen, holding a packet of ginger biscuits and talking with the head of catering that I learned of David Bowie’s death. I almost dropped the biscuits. How could we have spent the weekend listening to him and discussing his music and now he was gone?
With stars that shine so bright, we feel connected to them – as if we know them. And when we lose them it is like a part of ourselves is lost with them. Their music takes you right back to a car ride on the way to the beach, with the wind blowing through your hair; to the smell of low country pines in the air; to the last day of school when you buckled up and squealed out of the parking lot; to that oh so sweet first kiss; to laying in bed on a rainy day with the music turned up to eleven.
David Bowie, Ziggy Stardust, The Thin White Duke, however you choose to remember him, there can be no doubt that he was such a varied talent. The music he wrote, the people he collaborated with, his acting roles – he was a North Star to those of us who are different, who live life on the outskirts, who fly our ‘freak-flags’ with pride. His lyrics spoke volumes.
I don’t have a singular favourite song as so many of his records have been influential in my life; from teenage angst to the need to break free and find my own adventures. I remember growing up, watching him as the Goblin King in Labyrinth and was totally scared to death of him as a kid, yet strangely drawn to him at the same time. He had that quality. He was an enigmatic figure, who will be missed. Yet we are blessed – his music, like Lazarus, rises up and lives on.
{Image: Craig & Karl}
