It's ten years today since Bowie returned to whatever realm from whence he came, and it struck me today how little time I spend thinking about him anymore.
But that's not a slight, it's actually a compliment.
It's a compliment because the man was his own art project. And when he left this earth, he left no questions unanswered, no wish unfulfilled. He planned his exit so meticulously with the Blackstar album and long-form video, that there really was nothing left for him to do. I can't think of anyone else who pulled off anything quite like it, at least not off the top of my head.
Plus, Bowie had always been with us, ever since the late Sixties. Even during his nearly ten-year absence after an onstage coronary event in 2004, his presence was still felt. Sure, he popped up now and then, here and there, and his material was being actively reissued. So it wasn't like he dropped from the face of the earth.
But it was by far the longest time he'd not been making records or performing, and yet he was still among us somehow.
So I don't think about Bowie much, nor do I listen to his music much anymore. It's like reading an old magazine. It's interesting in a way, and there's a certain nostalgic ping, but it's yesterday's news. Again, not a slight; Bowie always imagined himself as a man of the moment. I very much doubt he'd listen to his own records anymore either.
Maybe a better analogy is that Bowie was a long series of books that I read and very much enjoyed, but feel no burning desire to ever go back and re-read.
I'm actually the same way with Killing Joke now, oddly enough. It's like they were a story I was following, but it ended when guitarist Geordie Walker died back in 2023. Of course, it doesn't help that Jaz Coleman has gone back to being an Crowleyean cringelord, but that's not my problem anymore.
Believe it or not, I once was the same way with Elizabeth. People started writing me around 2016, asking me if I'd pick up the story again for the 20th anniversary of Jeff Buckley's death. I remember thinking, My God, what else could I possibly say about it? Little did I realize.
Anyhow, there's still a lot of Bowie material here and I've moved some of it to the Secret History of Rock n' Roll blog, including the eulogy I wrote ten years ago.
It's all worth a read if you have a Bowie itch that still needs scratching.
Thank you for the music and the memories, Mr. Jones.
