David Bowie's Earthling at 25: Still An All-Time Favorite

I didn’t really know what to expect on 3 February 1997 when I bought David Bowie’s new album, Earthling. All I knew or cared about was that there was a new album. Little did I know I would  come to consider Earthling among the Bowie albums to which I return frequently.

I’ll admit, the album, with its drum-and-bass, jungle music had me initially scratching my head. Without the internet, I was unaware that, in the London clubs, there was a new musical style. Like many things in those days, I was introduced to new things via established artists like Bowie experimenting with them. His previous album, 1995’s Outside, saw Bowie experiment with industrial sonic palettes and I mostly enjoyed that album. By that point, I owned all of Bowie’s albums and knew he’d take me on an interesting musical journey. In fact, I’d come to expect it, and he delivered with Earthling.

Many of the tracks on the album came across then as a mishmash of styles, beats, and instruments. Anchored by guitarist Reeves Gabrels, Bowie created various grooves over which he and others could sing, play, and solo. But they are not mere jams like Miles Davis’s electric era. All these tunes are songs, conforming to a logical structure, and meant to be played on the radio or in clubs.

Despite how intense many of these songs sound, Earthling further establishes the basic fact that Bowie, as a singer, is basically a crooner, especially on my favorite track, “Dean Man Walking.” The beat of the song is relentless yet Bowie sings in long, slower, melodic passages. It’s that juxtaposition that really enamors this album to me. I like it when artists I appreciate take a thing—Bowie with drum-and-bass; Sting with Arabic rhythms and structures, Paul Simon with African beats—and put a new spin on it. I almost always do a deeper dive into the source material, but the interpretation is where I start. 

Reeves Gabrels is the co-star of this album. His guitar work is often blistering in its intensity, and I’m not sure I’ve heard a player more in love with the whammy bar than Gabrels. But he, like Bowie, was more interested in creating an atmosphere of music than traditional songs. If there’s a most-blistering moment, it’s the slow buildup during his solo in “Looking for Satellites.” 

Then there’s the brilliant Mike Garson. I’ve loved and enjoyed his piano work on Bowie’s songs since his famous turn on Aladdin Sane. In fact, his presence on many of Bowie’s 1990s albums and in his touring bands is often my favorite part. There’s nothing quite like a furious beat with crunchy guitars over which Garson plays his discordant piano solos (“Battle For Britain (The Letter)”). His solos might sound dissident, but they are nonetheless melodic. Also of note is his trilling up and down the keys at the end of “Dead Man Walking.”

By 1997 and the success of MTV’s Unplugged, going acoustic was all the rage and Bowie was no stranger to stripping down his songs down to their essence and delivering unique takes. He did it for old songs like “Quicksand” and “Scary Monsters” but how would these songs from Earthling sound without all the techno trappings? Turns out, pretty damn good. He revealed the beauty of his music and voice even at the age of fifty. It was during 1997 and the years following that I’d scour record stores hoping for (ahem) bootlegs of shows I couldn’t see, many of which featured the acoustic versions. He performed one on Conan O’Brien’s show, a performance Conan himself re-broadcast when Bowie passed away in 2016. 

One holy grail bootleg was the concert to celebrate Bowie’s fiftieth birthday in January 1997. He performed seven of the nine songs from Earthling, all with guest stars. I got only bits and pieces back then, but courtesy of YouTube, it’s all there.

Speaking of the album’s rather limited track list, it’s not as few as Station to Station’s six, but I appreciate Bowie’s restraint on Earthling. After the previous album’s nineteen tracks, nine seemed like a good number, especially with all the moods they elicit. 

I freely admit I was one of the listeners who discovered Bowie via Let’s Dance. Actually, it was when I had Queen’s Greatest Hits and wondered who the other guy was on “Under Pressure.” But over the years, I have a tremendous fondness for Bowie’s 1990s-era material. His performances in the Earthling era are particularly great. Not only does he play a huge chunk of his new material, he reinterpreted older songs like “The Man Who Sold the World” and “Fashion” with a techno/grungy vibe. In fact, I recently discovered the full concert for the 1997 GQ Awards and thoroughly enjoyed it. Bowie himself called this band, which included the wonderful Gail Ann Dorsey on bass and vocals, among the best he had. The proof is in the music where folks like Gabrels get chances to expand solos and Garson layers over his piano work across all the tunes.

I have purchased this album at least three times. There was the original album, all the special CDs available in random places (like the Earthling in the City CD glued onto an issue of GQ), I bought the double disc in 2004 that included a ton of remixes. Then, just last year, I picked up the Brilliant Adventure box set showcasing the entire 1990s era. 

If you haven’t listened to Earthling in a long time—or perhaps you never have—give it a spin, but do yourself a favor. Don’t just listen via the small speakers on your laptop or phone. Plug in some earbuds or headphones and listen to all the sonic goodness David Bowie delivers on Earthling. It may be twenty-five years old today, but it still sounds fresh and energic, the portrait of an artist trying out new things, constantly looking forward rather than backward. 

David Bowie - Hours at 20

Fun fact I was reminded about just this week: David Bowie was fifty-two when he released his 21st studio album, ...hours, twenty years ago today. I'm just a year shy of that mark, which means yet another shade was added to my enjoyment of this album.

The Music of 1999

The last year of the Twentieth Century was a particularly great one for me in regards to music. Some of my favorite veteran acts released new music: Sting's Brand New Day is only a week older than Hours. Tom Jones presented Reload to the world. Santana's Supernatural was everywhere as was Moby's Play. I discovered new-to-me artists like Bruce Cockburn. Chicago released a live album with some new songs. And I was still spinning 1998's Psycho Circus by KISS and Painted by Memory by Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach.

But the album that I looked forward to the most was the new one by David Bowie. I was (and still am) a huge fan of Bowie's music in the 1990s. After the experimentation of 1995's Outside and 1997's Earthling, it was exciting to ponder what kind of music we'd get on the new album. Little did we know we'd get an introspective album many critics compared to 1971's Hunky Dory.

The Album

Hours landed square in the middle of a life and cultural turning point for me. I was newly married and rediscovering my hometown of Houston after moving back home after graduate school. I was finally (!) out of school for the first time since I started in kindergarten. I had my first job. I was a grown up who finally (!) didn't have homework to do. I had time to soak in life and listen to music.

And I listened to Hours for...hours. Hey. It was right there. I have no conscious memory of where I bought the album, but I know it was twenty years ago today. I have always be a day-released purchaser of albums by favorite musicians. Back then, it was likely Best Buy, and it was likely on my lunch hour. However, I got the CD, I spun it as soon as I could, which was in my Ford F-150's player.

Again, I have no memory of how I felt or what I thought when those first notes of "Thursday's Child" washed over me, but it has remained a favorite song ever since. Not Top 25, but certainly Top 50. (That's an interesting exercise. I might have to compile my Top 50 favorite Bowie songs.)

Thursday's Child is the song a middle-aged man speaks about his life. It's a crooner's song, full of croonery music. Holly Palmer is fantastic as the lead background singer, but Bowie's third rendition of "Seeing my past to let it go" is heartbreakingly nuanced.

Something in the Air has a decent back beat over which Bowie can sing through a device that distorts his voice. This is a tune I've always enjoyed mainly for the fraying edges of Bowie's voice. He still had it at the time, but there are moments in this song where you realize he is a middle-aged man with a lifetime's worth of singing. It takes a toll after awhile and in this song, that age pays off well.

Survive is likely the song that echoes the vibe of Hunky Dory. It's an acoustic guitar-drive tune layered over with orchestral strings interspersed with tasteful electric guitars by Reeves Gabrels and saxphones. This song made it into the 1999 tour setlist. Again, a younger man probably doesn't write this song.

I'm Dreaming My Life is highlighted by the tempo changes, speeding and slowing the beat. While I like the tune, it is one that doesn't make it onto my MP3 CD compilations. The latter half of the song, with its plodding section punctuated by "ooohs" is...just okay.

Seven is yet another 1999 outtake of Hunky Dory. Even more than Survive, Seven's acoustic jangling guitar chugs along quite nicely. This one builds and builds, adding in different instruments along the way, until it reaches its wonderful ending. A highlight of the album.

What's Really Happening would have opened side 2 of the album if it was pressed in vinyl back in 1999. The guitar of Gabrels is more upfront here, and I get the impression its more his song than Bowie's.

The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell reminded folks in 1999 that Bowie remained a rock star quite capable of punching out a crunchy rock song. Think Hallo Spaceboy for another example. Always enjoyed this one, especially the tambourine during the chorus. The guitars are great, and really added to that Fin de siècle vibe that permeated most of 1999.

New Angels of Promise chugs out of the speakers using various of-the-era electronics before quickly morphing into a more straightforward pop tune. Lots of studio trickery on this one, mostly with Bowie backing himself, a practice I don't normally like, but don't mind too much here.

Brilliant Disguise is a short instrumental piece with a distictive Asian influence. In mood and vibe, it would have worked well on side two of "Heroes", but here just serves as a nice little piece.

The Dreamers rounds out the ten tracks of Hours. It showcases Bowie's crooner singing, but often it's distorted by oddball sound effects. But when the song hits the chorus, it is beautiful. And Bowie's sustained notes are gorgeous.

The Remixes

There were so many remixes of the various songs on this album that in 2004, there was a double CD boxed set with the second disc only containing the remixes. Some were marked improvements on the originals and my preferred versions: Thursday's Child (Rock Mix), Something in the Air (American Psycho Remix), and Seven (Marius De Vries Mix). There are something like four versions of The Pretty Things are Going to Hell, but I still prefer the original, just like the original version of Survive.

In the twenty years since the album's debut, certain songs float to the top, giving me continual listens. I ended up making my own version of Hours with those mixes I mentioned filling in for the actual album versions. But these five songs are my favorites from this album and among my favorites of the entire 1993-2004 era. I have an MP3 CD player in my car and I am able to cram up to 130 songs on each. Not only do I have a dedicated "Bowie 1993-2004" disc, but I have a "Bowie Retrospective" in which I select songs from his entire catalog, up to and including Blackstar. These five songs make the cut every time, although I use the version of Survive from the 2000 Bowie at the Beeb concert.

Hours Live

Ironically, just this year, at a record store here in Houston, I discovered a CD copy of the 1999 "Small Club Broadcast" show. Bowie only toured in Europe in 1999 so I never got to hear any of these tunes live. Which makes this discovery such a joy. All the Hours songs (Thursday's Child, Something in the Air, Survive, Seven, and The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell) sound great live, especially with Mike Garson playing piano. Huh. Isn't that something, those list of songs Bowie himself performed.

By the way, of all the live albums Bowie released officially, the 2000 concert is my favorite. He and the band sound so good, and some of the songs on this track list (Ashes to Ashes, Absolute Beginners, Survive, Always Crashing in the Same Car) are my preferred versions.

The Verdict

It's been a great twenty years with this album. I have so many memories in which these songs are intertwined. It was an awesome time for music in 1999 and while Hours my not be the best Bowie album from the 1990s, it holds a special place. It was the perfect album for those last three months of the Twentieth Century, especially when combined with Sting's Brand New Day and the other fantastic albums of 1999. It was of its time. It was by an artist whose age nearly matches mine now assessing his own career and music and doing something different. I also enjoy it along with Heathen and Reality, the last great trilogy of albums Bowie produced.

If you haven't spun Hours in a long time, give it a listen today to commemorate the album's anniversary.

Favorite Songs by Year - 2019 Edition

I saw a tweet by writer/podcaster Marc Benardin last week in which the exercise was to choose a favorite song for each year you've been alive. Easy. The only caveat: you can only choose one song per artist. Not easy.

You see, I am a hard-core fan of my Four Pillars of Rock. They are, in chronological order of how I discovered them: KISS, David Bowie, Chicago, and Bruce Springsteen. For each one of these bands I could pick a favorite song per year. Mostly. But with this exercise, that was off that table. Then comes the real question: what song do you pick for your favorite bands? Throw in Genesis and Sting into this conundrum as well. I went ahead and applied this rule to composer John Williams because, let's be honest: I could easily select fifty great pieces of music by the composer of Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark.

There were some years in which the favorite song leaped into my head (1969, 1999, 2015, 2016). Other years in which I had to select a song that I liked but don’t love (2011). Then there were years (like 1975, 1977, 1984, 1989, 2004, 2016) in which there were so many good songs I ended up having to cast aside songs I truly love and listen to constantly.

But what ended up happening was by restricting the number of songs I could select, it actually ended up becoming a more freeing exercise. For example, if I could not choose Chicago's "25 or 6 to 4" fin 1970, then I was now able to choose a Beatles song.

So, here's my list, broken out by decade, with notes on a few.

1968 - All Along the Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix
1969 - Introduction - Chicago

1970 - Let It Be - The Beatles
1971 - One Fine Morning - Lighthouse*
1972 - Supper's Ready - Genesis
1973 - Band on the Run - Wings
1974 - Miles Out to Sea - Slade
1975 - 100,000 Years (live) - KISS**
1976 - Hotel California - Eagles
1977 - Star Wars, Extended Version - Meco (aka Disco!)***
1978 - Summer Nights - Grease soundtrack
1979 - Rainbow Connection - Muppet Movie

*Another favorite horn rock band out of Canada. I take a daily walk around my office building and this song is one of the ones I choose often.

**Not my favorite KISS song, but if I have to choose only one tune, here, I get an 11-minute tune with Paul's singing, Gene's bass solo, Ace's guitar solo, and a Peter drum solo. Plus, Paul's stage rant.

***I love the disco version of Star Wars, and this 15-minute song gets every major theme from the movie. Plus disco!


1980 - Back in Black - AC/DC
1981 - Under Pressure - Queen and David Bowie
1982 - Hooked on Classics
1983 - Separate Ways - Journey
1984 - Heaven - Bryan Adams
1985 - The Power of Love - Huey Lewis
1986 - Livin' on a Prayer - Bon Jovi
1987 - I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For - U2*
1988 - Lead Me On - Amy Grant
1989 - The End of the Innocence - Don Henley

*Brilliant Disguise was the song that turned me onto Springsteen, but it doesn't make this list.

1990 - Silent Lucidity - Queensryche
1991 - Enter Sandman - Metallica
1992 - Pull Me Under - Dream Theater
1993 - Rock and Roll Dreams Come true - Meat Loaf
1994 - Singin’ with the Big Bands - Barry Manilow*
1995 - Peace Prayer - Clarence Clemons
1996 - Christmas Eve (Sarajevo) - Trans-Siberian Orchestra
1997 - Follow Me - Pat Metheny Group
1998 - Basic Instructions - Burlap to Cashmere
1999 - Desert Rose - Sting

*I could have easily selected The Brian Setzer Orchestra's "Lady Luck" but the historian in me is drawn to Manilow's recitation of famous big bands in this tune.

2000 - Absolute Beginners (live from Bowie at the Beeb) - David Bowie*
2001 - The Middle - Jimmy Eat World
2002 - The Rising - Bruce Springsteen
2003 - It's a Groove, This Life - Robert Lamm
2004 - Black Crow - Diana Krall
2005 - Mother India - Caedmon's Call
2006 - Crazy - Gnarls Barkley
2007 - One More Night With You - Brian Setzer Orchestra
2008 - Sister Lost Soul - Alejandro Escovedo
2009 - Haven't Met You Yet - Michael Buble

*Absolute Beginners (1986) is probably my favorite Bowie song, and this live show is my favorite concert he's released. Only bad thing: Had to jettison The Howland-Imboden Project's "Inching Towards..." (2000), but I got the Bon Jovi song on 1986.

2010 - City Noir - John Adams (as performed by Gustavo Dudamel and the Los Angeles Philharmonic)*
2011 - I Am Made of You - Alice Cooper**
2012 - Cinnamon Tree - Esperanza Spalding
2013 - Give Life Back to Music - Daft Punk***
2014 - Gimme a Feelin' - Ace Frehley
2015 - Uptown Funk - Bruno Mars, Mark Ronson
2016 - Put Your Money on Me - The Struts****
2017 - Cumberland Gap - Jason Isbell
2018 - On the Soul Side of Town - Tower of Power
2019 - In and Out of Love - Perfect Plan*****

*Saw a performance of this classical piece on PBS and was hooked. Even got a chance to see Adams conduct the Houston Symphony Orchestra doing this work. Turned me on to modern classical music.

**Here's ironic timing: as of 4 January 2019, I had never heard this song or album. But I love it. This song, with its dramatic entry of electric guitar, is everything you'd want to hear in an Alice Cooper song.

***Had never heard of Daft Punk, but I bought this album because of this song. The entire album is one of the best of this decade.

****This was THE song that turned me onto The Struts. In fact, it was purely the opening chord. This will likely be my favorite song of the decade, edging out Uptown Funk by a hair. And, in a week, I finally get to see the band live!

*****As of 26 April 2019, with the debut of the new Bruce Springsteen song, "Hello Sunshine," the category of Favorite Song of 2019 is now over. One word review: Gorgeous.

It's been three years since I had an emotional reaction to a song on first listen. That one, The Struts' "Put Your Money on Me," was joy. This one was simultaneously happy, melancholy, and nostalgic. It was like a song from my childhood I hadn't heard in decades, yet it's a tune my fifty-year-old self experienced for the first time. I didn't roll a tear, but they were in there. And, as I listened to this song about fourteen times on Friday, the emotions came over me more than once. Still don't understand it, but I'm good with it. Beautiful song. Instant classic Springsteen song for me.

If this is any indication of how the rest of the new album is, then the contest for Favorite Album of 2019 is done.

Yet as much as I love that song, I'm still going to keep "The Rising" on this list.


I hope you enjoyed this list. Turns out, I did something similar back in 2017. I'd love to see your list. Post the link in the comments.

Tune in Tomorrow...

For thoughts on Avengers: Endgame

A Bowie Celebration Exceeds Expectations

David Bowie may be gone from this earth, but his music lives on. And Wednesday night in Houston, the musicians and the audience in the Heights Theater were enveloped in his spirit.

Expectations Were High Yet Open

As soon as the Houston date was announced, I snagged a couple of tickets to "A Bowie Celebration." But I read no reviews. I wanted to go into show as clean as possible. I wanted the experience to be like it was for me, back in 1987, when I first saw David Bowie and had no idea about the setlist.

That proved to be the best decision I made. I was thoroughly entertained.

The brainchild of Mike Garson, David Bowie's longtime pianist, A Bowie Celebration gathers members of Bowie's longtime bands—including Carmine Rojas and Earl Slick from the 1983 Serious Moonlight Tour (two names I memorized by listening over and over to the recorded FM broadcast back in the day)—to tour and play songs from Bowie's vast array of songs from all eras of his career. Bowie might be linked with his lead guitarists over the years--Mick Ronson, Slick, Adrian Belew, Carlos Alomar, Peter Frampton, and Reeves Gabrels--but for my money, Garson's piano is the secret ingredient. He's the one enhancing everything from "The Lady Grinning Soul" to "The Heart's Filthy Lesson," to say nothing of the spectacular piano solo on "Aladdin Sane."

To sing the songs of one man, Garson recruited four vocalists, all of whom brought something special to their performances. Bernard Fowler has sung with The Rolling Stones for thirty years. His voice has an incredible range, able to hit the high notes while going very deep, all with crystal clarity. Gaby Moreno is a singer from Guatemala whom I didn't know before last night, but will be looking for some of her own music as of today. I knew Corey Glover as the lead singer from the great band Living Colour and man was he fantastic.

And, of course, there was Texan Charlie Sexton. I first saw him in 1987 when he performed with Bowie on the Glass Spider Tour. He was a member of the band last night, playing guitar and singing. Interestingly, with his high cheek bones, dark-colored rock star hair laced with gray, he somewhat resembled Bowie himself. Like an American cousin.

The Heights Theater Was The Perfect Venue

The Heights Theater, as its name implies, is a converted movie theater. For those of y'all who don't live in Houston, The Heights is like its own city, just to the north and west of downtown. When you drive up and down its streets, you can disappear and almost think you're in a small town. And in the 1940s. Which made the Heights Theater an excellent venue for this concert. Seating approximately 300, just about every seat was filled, and folks were standing along the walls. Bar tables with chairs occupied the front area. My wife and I were along the balcony, probably twenty feet from the stage, with a clear view of the piano keys. Of all the things I wanted to see, Garson's hands playing the keyboard was top on the list.

The eclectic mix of people sported more gray hairs than your typical rock concert, but every age was represented. The Heights being known for its artistic flair, the members of the audience did not disappoint. Not only did you have folks like my wife and I—suburban parents who haven't lost what it means to go out on a week night—but there were also folks you could tell were rock stars, albeit of the local variety. Heck, I even saw one woman dressed in a sequined white leotard with a red lightning bolt a la the cover of Aladdin Sane.

Bernard Fowler's Dramatic Voice

Five minutes after eight, Garson emerged from the back and walked on stage. He introduced himself, talked about the project, then sat at his piano to play "Bring Me the Disco King," from 2003's Reality album. Bernard Fowler came out to center stage and approached the microphone. This was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for. How would he interpret this song? Would he try to caricature Bowie or make the song his own?

The latter was the answer, and set the tone for the entire evening. Bowie was often a crooner. Think of "Absolute Beginners," "Wild is the Wind," or "Life on Mars." “Disco King” has only piano, minor drums, and voice. Fowler took this song and made it his own, adding wonderful inflection and emphasis not present in the studio version, breathing new life into the music. Make no mistake: this band is not a tribute band. These are musicians who played with Bowie, knew him, worked in the studio with him, and toured the world with him. They are channeling him but, in keeping with Bowie's adventurous spirit, this was not a rote concert.

The full band came out as the song finished. The three backup singers—one of whom played bongos and one was Corey Glover (that’ll tell you the depth of talent when you have someone of Glover’s caliber singing backup for most of the show)—stood on a small riser stage right. Carmine Rojas on bass occupied his own riser stage left. Garson's piano was up front on the right. Slick assumed his station in front of Rojas, while Sexton stood next to the piano. With the full band in place, they belted out "Rebel Rebel." If "Disco King" was the contemplative template for some of the obscure songs, then the rousing rendition of "Rebel Rebel" was the loud anthem when the gathered audience could clap and sing.

Corey Glover Soars

I'll admit I didn't know what Corey Glover looked like, although the multi-colored, multi-striped suit and colored hair peeking out from under his stylish hat should have been the giveaway. But when he stepped up to belt out "Young Americans," I had no way of knowing just how powerful this man's voice was. Coming just after "Fame," this sister song from the 1974 album showcased Glover’s incredible range. On the famous line "Ain't there one damn song that can make me break down and cry," Bowie always stopped the song and delivered that phrase with gusto. Glover blew the roof off the theater. It alone elicited cheers.

When Sexton picked up a 12-string guitar and with "Young Americans" out of the way, there was only one song that fit the bill: "Space Oddity." Haven't heard this one since 1990 when Bowie played it on his Sound + Vision Tour. Even here, Sexton did not merely mimic the Thin White Duke. Dressed in a sleek black suit with matching scarf, Sexton rocked up the traditionally slower tune, giving it that special something in this, the song's fiftieth anniversary.

Speaking of rocking things up, "Lazarus," from Bowie's last album, “Blackstar,” transformed from the dirge-like jazz number of the original to a guitar-heavy intense song. Slick, whose amps were always on top of the mix, and Sexton traded off guitar licks on an extended solo section. "Ashes to Ashes" took on the vibe from the 2000 live set "Bowie at the Beeb" and Garson threw in a keytar solo with spacy, 1980-era synth sounds.

Gaby Moreno’s Operatic Singing

Gaby Moreno took center stage as the opening drum beats of "Five Years" thundered in the theater. Again, she interpreted the song in her own way, adding newer notes to the established flow of the song. But as the song neared its end, she let loose an extended single note, high in the register, and near operatic in tone. She held it so long, cheers erupted before she finished the note. Incredible. Her onstage role continued a bit later in a duet of the song "Time" with Sexton. The dichotomy of the young Moreno and the older Sexton each taking turns with lines like "Time, he's waiting in the wings" and "You are not evicting time" took on new meaning.

Going into the show, I honestly expected Garson to break out the song "Aladdin Sane" and duplicate his piano solo. He didn't, but to make up for it, his piano showcase was on the rarity "Sweet Thing/Candidate" from 1974's “Diamond Dogs.” After Fowler crooned out the main verses, Garson took over. Musically pared down to bass and drums, Garson's piano soloing was exquisite.

A Triptych for the Ages

After a rousing, hard-edged rendition of "Let's Dance"—where Sexton and Slick again traded guitar solos—it was time for a trio of songs to close out the main set. "Under Pressure" got it started. This song took on added meaning after Bowie's death. I got emotional with the ad-libbed words Fowler spoke in "Disco King," but with "Under Pressure," the tears almost escaped, despite me singing along. With Fowler and Glover trading verses (rather than each man taking a single part), the words assumed greater meaning, especially as they often sang arm-in-arm. The entire audience was singing along now, and it was cathartic.

Next up was the crowd-pleasing "Suffragette City." With the audience already on its feet singing at the tops of its collective lungs and Glover actually in the audience leading the song, you know what was coming when we got to the "Wham Bam, thank you ma’am" line. Everyone belted out the words, fists raised. The old building's seams probably cracked at that point. "All the Young Dudes," closed out the main section. Written early in Bowie's career, it's a fitting song for a crowd sing-a-long. Many in the audience swayed with the beat, mesmerized by the finale.

Closing Out With Heroes

As the band took a short break, I leaned over to my wife and asked her opinion about the last song. To my mind, there could only be one.

"Heroes" started and it served a fitting close for the night. With the full band jamming, Fowler's powerful voice heralded into the theater, filling the venue. He held up his index finger while singing "just for one day." The audience got the message and did it with him every subsequent time.

With a final group bow, the evening was at a close.

Afterglow 

As the lights came up, everyone beamed with happiness and excitement, knowing they'd been a part of something special. Fans on the floor came up to the stage to say hello to the band. The musicians gratefully talked with everyone. It was like a family party. My wife and I found the other couple we chatted with before the show. Their grins were radiant. Before the show, I was hesitant to buy a concert t-shirt. My wife convinced me otherwise. We drove home under the full moon—a serious moonlight? —talking about the experience, the musicians, and a vow from her to find her Charlie Sexton cassette.

The Music of David Bowie Lives On

I've been a fan of Bowie since 1983 when I figured out who that guy was singing "Under Pressure" with Queen. He is one of my four favorite rock acts of all time. I loved his willingness to change styles, taking some current trend in music and putting his own unique spin on it. His 90s era is quite underappreciated. And, in 2016, while the sounds of his new record was only two days old, his death hit me hard. It was awhile before I could listen to his music again without sad emotions.

That time has passed. Honestly, I've been listening to Bowie's music with great happiness for a long time now, even a renewed interest in his 80s material thanks to the most-recent box set. And, as much as I fist-pump in the car while driving in Houston traffic, nothing compares to the splendor of last night's show.

If you enjoy consummate music professionals at the top of their game, this show is for you. That those same pros are intimately familiar with the music of David Bowie, their love and appreciation for him shines through in their playing. The performance last night ranks as one of my all-time favorite shows.

In short, A Bowie Celebration is a must-see event, a one-of-a-kind musical experience worthy of the man himself. And, for just one day, David Bowie was again alive.

A Year Without David Bowie

One year ago today, David Bowie left this world. Little did we know at the time that his death was merely the beginning of a deluge of death. From David Bowie to Carrie Fisher and everyone in between, the year 2016 witnessed what seemed like an unprecedented number of cultural icons passing away.

But David Bowie was the first. I remember a year and two days ago, I was flush with the music of Backstar, Bowie’s final album. In the days leading up to its release, saxophonist Donny McCaslin was interviewed on NPR about what it was like for him and his band to record with Bowie. The music I had heard in that interview was spellbinding. Hearing the entire album only more so. The CD was released on Friday, 8 January 2016, Bowie’s 69th birthday. By Sunday night, he was gone. The shock I felt was palpable, as it was for folks the world over. I wrote about my thoughts back then. You can read it here. Today, I’m talking about the year since.

I’ll freely admit that I went into a Bowie-only place a year ago this week. I played his songs constantly, not just Backstar, but his entire discography. Later in the spring, I contributed a review of the album. That’s here.

Then…nothing. For the longest time, I discovered I couldn’t listen to any of his music. The emotions I felt remained raw. That may sound maudlin, but the older I get, the more emotional I’ve become. In early summer, I was cleaning out my garage, the radio station tuned to the local classic rock station. “Changes” came on. I held it together until Bowie sang “Turn around and face the strange.” That was it. Waterworks flowed. I sat down on the floor and just listened. It had been months since I had heard his voice, and now it spoke to me from beyond the grave.

He was always just there. Even during his decade-long absence from recording music—or even the media—from 2004 to 2013, it didn’t really matter because somewhere, probably in New York, Bowie was alive. Now, he’s not. Now, he’s had his final say. And damn if Backstar isn’t just the perfect send-off.

When the fall rolls around each year, I tend to get in a Bowie mood, especially his later catalogue. I love his post 1995 oeuvre and I contend that some of those songs can stand head and shoulders with “Ziggy Stardust,” “Heroes,” and “Scary Monsters.” But I refrained. Not sure why. The David Bowie vacuum persisted.

Christmas was going to be sad, too. His version of Little Drummer Boy with Bing Crosby is one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs. Now, they’re both gone. One night, I watched the video before heading out to pick up some take-out food. Tears came to my eyes, but they weren’t deep. In retrospect, that moment was the turning point.

On the always excellent New Yorker Radio Hour, Donny McCaslin was interviewed. What was it like to be Bowie’s last band? What has this year been like for him and his band since? There’s this moment, about the 35-minute mark, when the interviewer asks McCaslin about the time Bowie came to hear the McCaslin band play. “So, one night, you were playing, and David Bowie walked in,” the interviewer says. Right then, both of them paused a second or two, just marveling at the gravity of her sentence. They both kinda laughed, sighed at what a moment that must have been for McCaslin. He goes on to tell the interviewer about the process of meeting Bowie and, ultimately, recording with him. You get the palpable sense that McCaslin is truly humbled to have worked with Bowie. Hearing him reminisce about the recording sessions, how Bowie was still pushing the boundaries of his music, helped me remember all the reasons I enjoy Bowie’s music.

And I had not listened in awhile.

Time to change.

That was just last week.

The more I considered McCaslin’s thoughts on the Backstar project, how Bowie was always looking forward, I looked back on 2016 and the music I discovered. I found a lot of music I loved, more than any year in recent memory. A few weeks after Blackstar, I found The Struts and their Everybody Wants album, my favorite of the year. Listened to those songs almost nonstop last year, and you could hear Bowie’s influence on their sound. I went on to enjoy albums by Reagan Browne, Wolfmother, The Heavy, Robert Ellis, The Eccentrics, Survive, Twenty One Pilots to say nothing of veteran performers who also released stellar albums last year: Sting, Ace Frehley, Santana, The Monkees, KISS, Michael Buble, and Lady Gaga. Come to think of it, I did what Bowie always did: find new things, move beyond the things to which I constantly listened.

In these past few days, it’s like a veil has lifted. Perhaps a moratorium, maybe even a mourning period. Not sure, but I’ve been spinning Bowie classics with great frequency. Just yesterday, on the way home from work, I cranked up “Hallo Spaceboy” and sang at the top of my lungs, giving way to the softer “Everyone Says Hi” and the 2000 live version of “Absolute Beginners,” perhaps my all-time favorite.

So, yesterday, I listened to the four-song EP No Plan. These are the last songs Bowie ever recorded. I haven’t done a deep dive into the songs yet, but on this initial listen, one thing come to mind: this guy still had it. “No Plan” is an ethereal gem where Bowie got to throw his soaring voice one last time. His lyrics of “This is not quite yet” a poignant reminder of what this EP actually is. There's a nice video for it. “Killing a Little Time” is a crunchy rock song, visceral in its drum beat, the McCaslin band adding that special little extra spice to really propel this song forward. The pianist channels Mike Garson a la “Aladdin Sane” and it’s wonderful.

Then there is “When I Met You,” the last song, and the last new song we’ll ever hear from David Bowie. I’ll admit something: there was a part of me that didn’t want to listen to it. I wanted there always to be just one more song out there, still something new to help me imagine Bowie was still with us. Then I shook my head. The thought, no matter how genuine, was, in the end, silly. I pushed play and the song washed over me. Bowie’s voice was still strong, clear, and direct. A little over four minutes later, the song faded away. And that was it.

Yes, it’s a somber thought to realize that you’ll never again hear new music from an artist with whom you’ve grown from young teenager to middle aged man. But, damn, is his body of work simply stunning. All the countless hours listening to his songs, part of the soundtrack of my life. All those times seeing Bowie in concert, watching him perform and displaying his God-given gifts to the audience. All the memories. All the feelings. All of it. It’s breathtaking.

And there’s one last thing, too. His example. When it came to music and art, he acknowledged the past, but kept his eyes on the future. Where some rock stars settle into a comfortable existence making hardly any new music, David Bowie pushed forward. He always wanted to hear the next great thing, the new singer, the new band. By one definition, the new could also be characterized as the strange. That’s the kind of example we can all get behind. Yes, cherish and nourish our long-time favorites, but make room for the new. I certainly did that in 2016.

And I’ve continued into this new year. NPR Music has a Tiny Desk Concert with Donny McCaslin. It was my first time to hear his ensemble. In just these songs, I could easily hear what caught Bowie’s ear. As I wrote on Facebook, “Holy cow this is some incredible music. Donny McCaslin and his band backed David Bowie on his final album last year. Here, you get 2 originals plus their version of "Lazarus." McCaslin's tenor drips with emotion, both strident and somber, but it is keyboardist Jason Lindner and drummer Mark Giuliana that really make these pieces shine. I'll definitely be getting their new album....Today?”

Today marks a full year since David Bowie passed away. To commemorate his life, his music, and his example, I bought McCaslin’s latest CD, Beyond Now. It's fantastic. But of course it is. David Bowie knew good music when he heard it. He always made room for the new.

To put it simply, I’m following David Bowie’s example. I’ve turned and faced the strange.

Now, it's your turn.

Favorite Songs of 2016

 

The year 2016 produced some fantastic albums and songs. Here are my Top 10 favorite songs of the year, presented in random order…except the first one. That is my favorite song of 2016.

“Put Your Money On Me” by The Struts

 

The Struts put out my favorite album of 2016. They are my favorite new discovery of the year. I listened to this album far and away more than any other album released this year. I first discovered the band via an article in Rolling Stone. The article name dropped “glam rock” and that’s pretty much all I need. I then went to Spotify to give the record a virtual spin. The first three cuts (can’t remember them because I have the free version of Spotify and it shuffled the songs) were great, but “Put Your Money on Me” sold me this album with the first chord. Not kidding. It is the sound of summer, a Mountain Dew commercial, unabashedly fun music, with an infectious chorus. The words, as sung by Freddie Mercury’s musical descendant, Luke Spiller, is all about winning over his girl. That this song includes brass is icing on the cake. The MVP of this song—other than the person playing the tambourine—is guitarist Adam Slack. His ferocious solo grounds this song in the rock world so it’s not always just a shiny pop song. And the song ends with a final chord, not a fadeout. By far my favorite song of 2016. “Uptown Funk” was already my favorite song of the decade. We now have another contender. Video.

“Going All the Way is Just the Start (A song in 6 movements)” by Meat Loaf

 

This song comes from Meat Loaf’s new album, Braver Than We Are, a collection of songs all written by Jim Steinman, the man behind the songs from Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell. To be perfectly honest, this album is a mishmash of styles and influences. Meat’s singing voice is all but shot, but there’s still an earnestness behind it. Much like other long-time singers, Meat singing less powerfully than he used to gives the songs here a unique quality. This song is special as it features both female co-singers from his Bat Out of Hell Days, Ellen Foley and Karla DeVito (vocalists from the studio and live versions "Paradise by the Dashboard Light", respectively). I’m a sucker for Broadway-like rock songs and Meat Loaf is perhaps the best example. This song clocks in at nearly eleven minutes, and it is excellent. The two ladies certainly carry the song, but when they both sing together, it’s magic. To give you an idea of the type of song this is, were this song part of a Broadway play, it closes the show. It builds and builds to a magnificent ending, especially when the counter melody kicks. When I first listened to this album at work, this song captivated me. It made me want to hurry up and finish the record so I could come back to this song. Video.

“Still That Boy From Texas” by Reagan Browne

 

The discovery of this album, Rhapsodic Roar, is proof that words can still sell albums. I was sitting at a convention in Austin, Texas, and I read a Waterloo Records ad that mentioned Browne’s new album was a great example of melodic rock. I got to the store and listened to a few cuts…and bought the album. He’s new to me, but this is his fourth album. The songs range in heaviness from the opener, “Accelerate to the Straightaways,” to terrific cuts like “The Universe Gives Me What I Want” (my other favorite song) and “Gypsy Woman’s Got the Groove,” featuring Texas guitar wizard, Eric Johnson. “Still That Boy From Texas” is the song I kept returning to. Browne’s powerful, deep baritone voice soars over this song about a guy who longs to be back in Texas even though he’s plying his trade in California. Browne was born and raised in the Texas Hill Country so the song comes from the heart. It’s evident on the song. Here’s a link to his website’s video page where you can listen to the song and hear some other cuts.

“Victorious” by Wolfmother

 

Sometimes, albums can be sold merely by the cover. Wolfmother’s new album, Victorious, got my attention with a cover that evoked those great painted rock covers from the 1970s. Heck, all their covers have that in common. Well, that’s not all that the band, formed in Australia in 2000, draws from. This entire record is chock full of influences from 70s rock, prog rock, and even metal. It’s a fun listen, especially when  you try and guess the song Wolfmother was listening to when they wrote their songs. When I got/persuaded/trapped her in a car and played the record, she said it was good, but that she liked it better the first time. No matter. The entire record is good, but “Victorious” is my favorite cut. A fast, adrenaline-fueled driving rocker that is best listened to when driving, windows down, and singing along at the top of your lungs. Here is the tripp video.

“Can’t Stop the Feeling” by Justin Timberlake

 

I can’t say exactly how/when I first heard this delightful pop song, but my son—who discovered music this year—had it on his iPod. He played it more than once and I latched onto it. I don’t have any of Timberlake’s albums, but then again, everything I heard from him I like. He’s immensely talented, and this song is an effervescent slice of pop goodness. The bass line during the break is funky and dirty. This is the aural equivalent of a smile on a summer’s day. And the video is charming as just about anything I saw this year. Video

“Go Big or Go Home” by American Authors

 

Speaking of my son finding music I like, this is another one. This band takes a slice out of the Mumford and Sons jangling pseudo folk playbook with mandolins spicing up this song. Its all-ensemble sung verses lead into a fist-pumping-in-the-air chorus. This song played a lot in the car in our various commutes so much that I started really to like it. Video

“You Bring the Summer” by The Monkees

 

Imagine a radar, the old-school kind with the rotating green line that would blip whenever something was within range. Got that? Well, The Monkees was beyond my radar. Frankly, I basically knew who they were…and that was it. Then their new LP, Good Times, dropped this year and this song was the lead single. Talk about starting off the summer of 2016 with a slice of pop goodness. I ended up buying this album and loving it. This cut wraps up what I know of the Monkees and produces a song that at once could have been a hit in 1967 but sounds fresh and modern. The video is out-of-this-world great, made to look like an animated segment from their TV show. I was ThisClose to picking “Me and Magdalena” (an achingly beautiful song) as my favorite song from this album, but “You Bring the Summer” was the tune I listened to most. Video

“Today is Yesterday’s Tomorrow” by Michael Buble

 

Michael Buble is a modern anachronism. He’s got a voice that could have been heard in the 1940s or 1950s but he can write wonderful modern pop songs. Buble’s song “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” is one of my favorite songs of this decade. He can write a pop song that earworms itself into your brain that you’ll be humming it all day long. To be honest, some of the cuts off this new album, Nobody But Me, tries to replicate the vibe of that song. The title track is the obvious contender. He gives you two versions, one with a rap interlude (yeah, it really works) and the other with a trumpet solo in the same spot. “Someday” is a beautifully infectious duet with Meghan Trainor that is reminiscent of  “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat as mixed by Train. Their harmonies on the chorus nearly got in this list. But it is “Today is Yesterday’s Tomorrow” gets the nod. It is the most obvious kin to “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” in musicality and style. The verbal wordplay, with its rapidly spoken verses, are rap-like, but still musical. The chorus is another aural smile (see a theme of these songs?) that’ll make you tap  your foot, even if you’re at your desk. Video

“I Can’t Stop Thinking About You” by Sting

 

Sting is back with a rock record! That was the headline this year. Yeah, kinda. Sting is a pop star who dabbles in rock (and just about everything else). But this is his first album of new pop/rock music since 2003’s Sacred Love. If there is a theme of this list, it’s that light, poppy music seems to be where my head was this year. By that standard, “One Fine Day” off this new LP would fit on this list. It is right in that poppy groove. Heck, Michael Buble could cover it and you’d never know Sting wrote it. But the lead single, “I Can’t Stop Thinking About You” gets the nod. This is Sting at his pop/rock best. A tight band, a song that will get your head nodding up and down, and Sting singing about the often melancholy aspects of love. Is he the best one ever for that aspect of love? Video

“I Can’t Give Everything Away” by David Bowie

 

The elephant in this year’s list is David Bowie. He was one of my four pillars of rock for me. Here is my essay from January about his death. But we’re here to talk about my favorite Bowie song from Backstar, his last album. In the days leading up to the release on 8 January (his birthday), I was so excited. Bowie had recruited saxophonist Danny McCaslin’s jazz ensemble. He was going to make a jazz record! And it is so good. Repeated listenings reveal added layers of emotion and musicality. And then Bowie died two days after the record was released, and Backstair took on a different shade. To be honest, after a certain point, I stopped listening to the album. The emotions were too great. Heck, I even bought the Lazarus soundtrack, with three new Bowie songs, but I haven’t listened to them yet. I’m waiting for 8 January 2017, his 70th birthday, to play them.

Any of the songs from the record could be on this list, but I’m going with the last song. I wrote a review of Blackstar back in March, so I’ll just quote the paragraph about this song. “‘I Can’t Give Everything Away’ starts before “Dollar Days” is even over. Bowie’s voice is very “close” in the mix, especially in headphones. It gives the listener the distinct impression that he’s singing directly to each one of us. Which, of course, he is. The harmonica flourishes harken back to 1987’s “Never Let Me Down” while McCaslin’s sax does its own thing, almost as if the song belongs to it and Bowie is merely the guest singer. Death lances through the last words Bowie sang. They sting, but there’s joyous defiance in his voice and delivery. Yes, death will take me, Bowie seems to say, but I still possess the gifts God gave me and I’m going out on the top of my game. Fittingly, “I Can’t Give Everything Away” ends with a guitar flourish that at once would gracefully end a concert but also directly echo the guitar work on “Look Back in Anger” and “Heroes.” Guitar and strings and drums end triumphantly what is effectively David Bowie’s last will and testament.” Video

Honorable Mentions

“Since You Been Gone” by The Heavy. Dirty rock, soulful singing, and in-your-face brass. Right up my alley. Video

“Parasite” by Ace Frehley. The original writer of this KISS classic put his own, modern spin on this song. Heavier than the original and still pile-driving into your head. The solo is a clinic of Ace-isms. Video

“Love Makes the World Go Round” by Santana, featuring Ronald Isley. Santana has always had that great latin/rock vibe. It’s the aural equivalent of smoking a joint, especially in the song “Fillmore East.” This new record reunited the original band, and Ronald Isley sings on a couple of tunes. Having his soulful voice mixed with Santana’s vibe is eclectic, but ultimately rewarding. Video

“Stranger Things” by S U R V I V E. Even though I came of age in the 80s, I don’t always revisit that time in my music, especially the very 80s synths. So imagine my surprise when the TV show “Stranger Things” tapped into that perfect vein of 80s nostalgia not only with the visuals and the story but with the John Carpenter-esque soundtrack. Survive is another new-to-me Texas band (ironically, they were in the same ad that featured Reagan Browne; Thanks Waterloo Music!) that makes synth soundscapes music using old technology. It really shows, and I’ve already bought the soundtrack and Survive’s new LP. Video

Rogue One soundtrack by Michael Giacchino. I’m still processing the new Rogue One soundtrack so I cannot give definitive song yet. Giacchino is an excellent composer, a true heir to John Williams. His music for TV’s Lost, a number of Pixar films, and the new Star Trek movies show his range and ability to create a soundtrack that can be heard on its own as well as in the movie. If the movie Rogue One contained a lot of visual Easter eggs, Giacchino’s score does the same for the music. He interweaves old Williams melodies and instrumentations that hearkens back to the other seven movies. For longtime listeners of the Star Wars soundtracks, Rogue One is great listening experience.

What David Bowie Means to Me

(This is long and personal. It’s something I needed to write.)

It all started with a song.

That’s typically how most people discover their favorite artists. The one song they hear on the radio, a friend’s sound system, or MTV (back in the day). Ironically, my love of David Bowie’s music started with a Queen song.

You know the one. “Under Pressure.” I literally have no memory of David Bowie before 1983. I am an only child and discovered all my pop and rock music on my own. KISS was an easy find because, in 1977-1979, they were everywhere. Plus, I found them because of how they looked. They were right up my comic book loving, Star Wars loving alley. Bowie was the surprise. I discovered Bowie because of his voice.

I had Queen’s Greatest Hits, the original one with the black cover. There, buried as the last track on side one of the cassette, was Under Pressure. It was a duet with a guy named David Bowie. I knew Freddie Mercury’s voice so Bowie’s was that low, baritone one with the melodic voice. I loved it enough to realize I wanted to know more things this Bowie guy did.

Summer 1983 saw me back in Tyler, Texas, visiting my grandparents. Hanging out at a friend’s house, somehow I connected that the Bowie guy in Under Pressure was the same guy who sang that song “Let’s Dance.” I saw the video, heard that voice, saw the singer, and I wanted more. I bought the cassette version of Let’s Dance and that was all she wrote.

Next thing I knew, I was hunting for more Bowie music. That wasn’t difficult. He had a lot of albums. But where to start? RCA, Bowie’s 1970s label, caught on the Let’s Dance craze by issuing a compilation, Golden Years, with a 1983-era image of Bowie. That, along with ChangesTwoBowie, were my first steps into the older material. And boy was it spectacular. In looking at the tracklist of those two LPs today, I realize that I heard “Aladdin Sane” and it’s wonderful piano solo early on in my discovery of David Bowie. And “Starman,” “Wild is the Wind,” “Fashion,” and “Ashes to Ashes.” I didn’t have MTV at home, so Bowie was all vocals for me early on. And, boy, did he have a voice!

I missed the Serious Moonlight tour stop in Houston, but the local radio station did a broadcast of the Vancouver show. It would later be released on VHS. I taped that show off the radio and that became my first instance of an artist who *changed* his songs in concert. Up until then, KISS was my only reference point, and the differences between studio cuts and live performances for them were small. I listened to the cassette copy of that show for years. I still have it. Interestingly, the words “Serious Moonlight,” written in red ink, have long since faded away while “David Bowie,” in blue ink, still remain readable. Poignant, huh?

The years 1984 to 1987 were an interesting time to be a new Bowie fan. I discovered the older stuff in greater depth while hanging on every new thing he created. The Tonight LP had “Loving the Alien,” a tune that still captivates me. The Labyrinth soundtrack had the still-excellent “Underground,” the goofiness of “Magic Dance,” and the ethereal “As the World Falls Down.” There was the duet with Mick Jagger with “Dancing in the Streets” and, if you were around my group of friends back in high school, you got to see my friend, Chris, and I reenact the video. I was Bowie. The title cut of the movie “Absolute Beginners” is in my top 5 favorite Bowie songs of all time. I love the sweeping grandeur of the tune and was so excited to hear it live in 1987.

Speaking of 1987, that was a huge year. The new LP, Never Let Me Down was going to have a tour associated with it. I drove back to Houston from attending college in Austin to see it. Looking back on the Glass Spider tour now, it was pretty excessive and even now I’m not quite sure the meaning of some of the things were trying to do. Don’t care. Didn’t then, either. It was a spectacle. The sheer thrill at seeing the giant spider over the stage before the lights went dark only stoked the imagination. During the spooky spoken opening of the song “Glass Spider,” Bowie was lowered in a chair to the stage. Finally, there he was, clad in red. I was in the same room as David friggin’ Bowie! It was an incredible feeling. The renditions of the songs in this setlist are stellar, with Peter Frampton playing lead guitar. I had the VHS (still do, and I’m watching it now) and I played the cassette over and over.

The Rykodisc reissues of the RCA albums were—and still remain—definitive in their inclusiveness. Those are the versions I have. As a young man in the late 80s, I wanted Bowie to be a certain way. Turned out, Bowie was all ready to move on. You see, I hadn’t lived through the warp speed transitions of the 70s, but I was about to. Tin Machine I enjoyed, but it confused me. I didn’t get it in 1989, but I understood in 1991 when Nirvana exploded on scene. Ah! So Bowie was already ahead of the game and had left the over-the-top 80s sound. Typical.

The Sound + Vision tour, in 1990, was the opposite of Glass Spider. Plain stage, excellent musicians, and just the music. And that was perfectly fine. I loved that show, my second time to see him.

The 1990s David Bowie proved, in retrospect, to be nearly the equal of the 1970s Bowie. I loved all the LPs he released. Only in 2003 was the pattern apparent. You see, Tin Machine allowed Bowie to reboot himself. He went back to his jazz and 60s pop roots with Black Tie White Noise. Outside teamed him up with Brain Eno again, the first time since the Low/Heroes/Lodger records of the 1970s. Man, that was a swing for the fences. The concept was perfect for the end-of-the-millennium/X-Files era and I soaked it all up. Pianist Mike Garson is all over these songs, and this album contains some of my all-time favorites: Strangers When We Meet, The Heart’s Filthy Lesson, The Motel, Hallo Spaceboy, and the title cut. The tour (that I missed!) had Bowie playing with Nine Inch Nails and recasting his songs with a techno-industrial vibe. He brought out songs even I had forgotten (I found a bootleg of the show. Shhh! Don’t tell anyone.) What this music also made me do was seek out Nine Inch Nails music and other techno music.

Earthing (1997), with its drum-and-bass, jungle music had me scratching my head once again. What was this music Bowie was making? I wasn’t sure, but I sure loved it. Back to the record store (pre-internet times) to get me some of the music Bowie listened to for inspiration. “Dead Man Walking,” with his long-note vocals over a furious beat, is a stunning song and proof yet again that Bowie is a crooner. “Battle of Britain (The Letter)” is very good, and the single, “Little Wonder,” is a fist-pumping song. This was the era when going acoustic was all the rage and he took some choice cuts off this LP and older songs and made acoustic versions. I found more bootlegs of acoustic shows and other performances and was in Bowie heaven.

Then, in 1999, Bowie started a trilogy. Hours (1999) saw the return of a softer, Hunky-Dory-esque Bowie, with “Thursday’s Child,” “Seven,” “Survive,” and “Something in the Air” adding themselves to my favorites. Heathen (2002) can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with ANYthing from the 1970s. Period. “Slow Burn,” “Everyone Says Hi,” “Sunday,” Heathen (The Rays)”, and “Slip Away” are incredible pieces of music. Plus, his themes of isolation fit perfectly in the post 9/11 world. Reality (2003) had some callbacks to 1980’s Scary Monsters LP and featured some killer songs: “New Killer Star,” “Fall Dog Bombs the Moon,” “Reality,” and “Bring Me the Disco King.”

It was the Reality Tour in 2004 that I last was in the presence of David Bowie. 

The setlist was a dream for me: 17 out of 26 songs I had never heard. And the ones he performed were so good: Battle for Britain, All the Young Dudes, Hallo Spaceboy, The Supermen, Slip Away (with the Polyphonic Spree), and he friggin closed with “Ziggy Stardust”! Come on! The last thing he sang in my presence was “Ziggy played guitar,” center stage, arms outstretched. Perfect.

This touring band had Mike Garson on piano and I’m here to tell you his is a vital ingredient to Bowie’s sound. Gail Ann Dorsey was the bass player for this band. She was also the “Freddie Mercury” when they played “Under Pressure.” You talk about coming full circle with a single song. Dorsey is phenomenal in her vocal delivery. No one can replace Mercury, but damn, Dorsey comes close. She is so, so good. If you are of a mind, I can’t recommend the Reality Tour DVD highly enough. Thirty songs. 140 minutes of beautiful music. (I’ve now put this DVD in and am listening to it now.)

I saw David Bowie for the last time 29 April 2004. My wife was with me and it was her first time to see him. She didn’t know all the songs, but loved the show. Two short months later, he had a heart attack in Europe and cancelled the rest of the tour.

And then he was gone. Seemingly forever. 

As the years went on, I counted my blessings to have seen that last tour and heard that last album. If Reality was the final tour/record, I was okay with that. He owed me nothing more having given me and the world so much.

But Bowie wasn’t finished. I distinctly remember checking his website in early January 2013 and there was a NEW SONG! “Where Are We Now” is a somber, yet thrilling song. It has some of the most intimate lyrics he’s ever written. He had gotten older, his audience had gotten older, and Bowie understood that. The song moved me to tears when I heard it (not a difficult thing, actually, softy that I am) and the entire record was incredible. I knew there wouldn’t be a tour, but we had a new album! “The Star (Are Out Tonight),” “I’d Rather Be High,” “The Next Day,” “Love is Lost,” and more are fantastic additions to the catalog. Couple that with the EP that came out later that year and you had what appeared to be a nice epilogue to a wonderful career.

But Bowie still wasn’t finished. “Sue (or in a Season of Crime)” was a new song for a new compilation. This song featured Bowie fronting a big band. It wasn’t your grandfather’s big band. It was Maria Schneider’s Orchestra and it was as far away from Glenn Miller as your could get. It was more in the realm of Gil Evans and Miles Davis. And Bowie was in his full crooner mode. I remember thinking in 2014 “Man, if he’d do a whole album of this, it would be so awesome.”

He almost did. Blackstar, his latest (and last) record is that album. It’s not all big band, but it’s jazz musicians working with a rock musician. It’s out there. The record demands repeated listenings. I pre-ordered the album and had it the moment I woke up on 8 January, his 69th birthday. I listened to it four times in a row. Non-stop. I hadn’t done that for any record in years. The music engulfed me. I was so happy to have new music and that the music was jazz! And Bowie! Folks at my office saw me react to this music. I even played a couple of tracks for my wife who wasn’t as impressed as I was. It was a great time to be a David Bowie fan.

Until Monday. And David Bowie was gone. 

The husband was gone. The father was gone. The friend of so many was gone. The inspiration to so many was gone. The man I never met but became a musical mentor was gone. It’s still shocking to realize it now, three days after the news broke. He was one of the four pillars of rock music for me, the other three being KISS, Chicago, and Bruce Springsteen. He was the one I found on my own. He was the one whose musical choices led me to new places and opened my mind to new ideas. He was the one who electrified me when I was in his presence. He was DAVID BOWIE!

I know his wife and daughter and son all miss him more than I do. I understand that. His close friends, too. But to all of us out here whose lives he touched, we’ll miss him, too. Blackstar is a fitting last album because it demands to be encountered and understood and not merely listened to. It’s already led me to seek out the albums of Donny McCaslin (saxophone) and Maria Schnieder because I want to know what Bowie heard in those artists that inspired him.

David Bowie granted me many gifts. His own music is part of my musical DNA. It will be with me forever. His music is an indelible and intricate part of my life’s soundtrack. I am not completely who I am in 2016 without David Bowie.

Thank you, David Bowie, for everything you did.

*Bonus Tracks*

The best tweet that summed up what David Bowie meant to the world was this. I quoted JeSuisDean:

“If you're ever sad, just remember the world is 4.543 billion years old and you somehow managed to exist at the same time as David Bowie.”

On the day the news broke, my friend, Daniel, posted this video to his Facebook page. Of all the tributes I read and saw about David Bowie, none moved me to tears quite the way this clip did. I've never seen the movie (It's Kind of a Funny Story), but this one scene captures all the exuberance you can have when you're different but find a home in a group that's also different and everyone is equal. It also shows the sheer joy in making music, truly a sublime facet of this life. Thanks, Daniel, for sharing it with me. "It's Kind of a Funny Story" is now on my radar.