It was a shock to nearly everyone.
I won’t go on and on, because I know you’ve probably read one hundred and one articles on David Bowie and his surprising passing in the last day and a half.
From the moment I read about it, I was stunned and then immediately overwhelmed by how much his work has flavored and played soundtrack to my life.
I am bereft without music. Not that I can’t handle silence, but I don’t think I could ever put into words how much I need music, and that’s the entire point. Music transcends words.
It soothes, invigorates, inspires, and nourishes me like nothing else can.
The words that Bowie did write and sing along to in his varied musical styles just happened to be poignant and almost always entirely ahead of their time.
I also need to move to keep my soul afloat, and Bowie is amazing at doing just this.
I say is because his music is alive, and therefore so is he. I’ve beamed, reflected, painted, cried, and danced all around my house to the sounds of Bowie these past two days, and will for the rest of my hearing life.
His art lives. He lives.
The canon of his work is extensive, so it’s incredibly hard to pinpoint just a handful of songs.
The grooves he wore into pop culture are deep.
His innovation in videos, collaborations, films, stage work, and even visual art cannot be forgotten.
I think I am I am especially fond of him because of my background in the performing arts.
Mr. Bowie was an enigmatic performer, but he led a very private life.
Unafraid to be himself, yet unashamed to don masks;
he was also ever evolving, forever reinventing, always experimenting.
He was never stagnant.
We see this up to his death.
His last work, Blackstar, is jazz fusion and a cryptic exploration of death.
The last lines of the title track say it all~
“At the centre of it all, your eyes, your eyes…”
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