Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Originally posted in April:
A new article on David Bowie reminded me I never posted something I wrote in January. I'll put it where it belongs later:

David Bowie released a surprise new album on his 69th birthday earlier this month. Entertainment headlines announced: "David Bowie Releases Surprise New Album on 69th Birthday".

Two days later, international headlines declared: "Bowie Dead".

Just take a frying pan and smack me on the forehead with it as hard as you can. That's what it felt like. In fact, that would have been preferable.

News of aging rock musicians dying generally doesn't faze me. That's what happens. People get old, and the older they get the higher the likelihood that they will die. It's not a surprise when they die. It's more of a surprise that some of them haven't kicked the bucket long ago.

When I hear of rock stars who have made it to old age dying, I salute them. I smile and thank them and raise a glass for their great contribution to entertainment, art and culture and my enjoyment. What's to be sad about as a fan? We haven't "lost" them. They'll live on as legends through their records. It's not like they were still releasing quality new material or were going to.

Oh, and then there's Bowie.

Bowie's death really bothered me. It ate at me for days. You're not supposed to release a new album and then die two days later. It's not done that way. Releasing a new album that got great reviews from day one means you're still vital and . . . hunky dory.

Then the details came out that he had been secretly fighting cancer. He knew he was dying and he spent the last seventeen months or so of his life writing and recording his swan song.

Then it dawned on me: he turned his death into performance art. Explaining it that way at least made me feel better.

I think above all the identities and personas he has accumulated through the years is that he is a true artist through and through. I bet he never read the morning paper, munchy-wunching lomticks of toast without thinking about how something around him could be re-interpreted or transformed.

And if you're that kind of artist and learn that you're dying, what do you do? You keep it a secret and secretly write and record an album and release it on your 69th birthday. I actually think the artist in him wanted to die on the same day the record was released to make it even more dramatic, but there are some things he couldn't control. He dies two days later, OK, close enough.

Of course, if he died the day it was released, the record might have gotten sympathy good reviews instead of the actual good reviews that it got.

Art is often about aesthetics, but great art also challenges and shocks. And that's what he did. I should have expected no less from him. Maybe he couldn't choose how he went out, but he could do it in his own way. It would have been far worse if his death was just a news headline, a smile, thanks and a raised glass.