Missing David
David Bowie left us ten years ago today. Just two days after celebrating his 69th birthday and releasing his final studio album, Blackstar.
A high school friend was a fan of the Thin White Duke long before I jumped on board. He had bought Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) on cassette. I’m over here still jamming to radio’s biggies like AC/DC, Journey, and The Eagles, not emotionally mature enough to understand the brilliance and genius of Bowie. That soon changed.
In the dawn of the digital music age, I bought my first CD player at Best Buy. My first purchase in that format was Let’s Dance, Bowie’s “commercial breakthrough,” though there were many of those. I quite love the deeper cuts, especially “Without You” and “Criminal World.”
A few years later and deeper into my growing Bowie phase, I was working at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Kansas City. Numerous artists touring through KC stayed there. I was a bellman while in college and The Ritz was the place to stay (if you had the cash). I was lucky enough to be working the day Bowie and his Sound+Vision Tour came through town in the summer of 1990. As he exited the hotel en route to sound check that afternoon, I approached him and extended my hand saying something like, “Ready for the show?” to which he replied, “Rain or shine!” He flashed that big smile and shook my hand. It was a moment.
A few minutes later, the tour manager called me over and asked if I would like a couple tickets for the show that night. You know my answer. I was able to finish the shift, get back to the apartment to change, and make it to the concert. It was my one and only time seeing David Bowie in concert. A grand experience.
Over the years, I’ve counted him as one of my favorite artists. Not simply due to that diverse and brilliant catalog, but for his ability to change-up personas so effortlessly. To take chances. Live on the edge. Shock and surprise people. From Major Tom to Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane, to the Thin White Duke, he was a chameleon always one step ahead of every other artist. He was a trendsetter. The coolest.
Fast-forward a few years when a coworker walked over to me asking, “Did you hear about David Bowie?” My breathing momentarily paused. My heart may have skipped a beat or two. It was January 10, 2016. It was a gut punch like no other. I even remember the day Elvis died, running to tell my mom. She did not believe me. But eventually, she got her gut punch.
David’s final gift to us was his last studio album Blackstar, a mind-blowing work of art rivaling everything he had ever recorded. On the single “Lazarus,” released just three weeks before his death, he sings:
Look up here, I'm in heaven
I've got scars that can't be seen
I've got drama, can't be stolen
Everybody knows me now
The public had very little knowledge of the cancer. Despite his outgoing and sometimes over-the-top public image, he was a very private person. These lyrics hit a nerve when word of his death was announced.
Today, on the tenth anniversary of his passing, I will remember that smile, revel in his artistry, and never forget how it all made me feel. Miss you, David.