48. Jesus Couldn't Understand But David Bowie Could

...being a fanboy rumination on the subject of David Bowie, and what he meant to me whilst I was growing up - and beyond.

I am 9 years old walking down the street where I live in Hull. It is a hot summer’s day and I am on the way back to school after dinner. There are students in the end house, they have their window open, and some really pleasant music is drifting out. I don’t know it at the time, but years later, I realise that it was David Bowie, “Changes”

I am 11 years old. One of the cooler kids at my school is showing off an LP record out in the playground. It has a man with incredible orange hair and a beautiful woman leaning on his shoulder, in front of a pale blue background. It looks amazing, too cool for the likes of me. Again, it is a long time before I realise that it is Bowie's "Pin-ups"

Both the "changes" song and the pin-ups cover made such lasting impressions on me that I remembered them clearly for a long time, before becoming fully aware of David Bowie.

I am 13 years old and at a friend’s house, he is playing me his favourite records, I hear “Changes” again on the back of a “Space Oddity” 45. He also plays a single of “Fame” We laugh because we think the lyric “gotta get a raincheck on” is “gotta get a rigid on.”  We join in singing the bit where the word ‘fame” is repeated in descending tones. We note that John Lennon wrote the song with Bowie.

I am 16 years old, Bowie is on Top of the Pops, performing “Heroes.” I am blown away by his confidence, his appearance, the way his shirt cuffs are undone, a simple style thing, compared to the excesses he has indulged in in the past, but from this moment on, I want to be David Bowie.

I am 17 years old, and Mr Shearing, the coolest English Teacher in the history of British Education take me and a friend 150 miles to Newcastle City Hall to see Bowie perform live. When he takes the stage, I actually have goosebumps down my spine.

I am 54 years old. David Bowie died two days ago. I am in the local supermarket, buying some soup for my dinner, as the previous day I have had two teeth extracted.  The music piped around the building is the relatively unknown sixties record, “Love you till Tuesday” It cheers me up even before I realise that it is Bowie. 

There was once a time when a good education necessarily included a study of the works of Homer, some Greek Myths and Legends, and a selection of stories from the Bible. It was thought that this was the best way to familiarise children with concepts of how the mighty will one day fall, how wickedness always meets justice and how the over-reacher is always brought back down to earth with a bump.

Maybe that side of education is not as prominent now, but fables featuring legendary figures who impart life values and moral lessons have always been popular and remain so to this day. I think that we all have a need for that sort of thing in our lives, whether we get it from Shakespeare, Coronation Street or the Mighty World of Marvel, we all have our favourite sources.

My favourite source of such tales has always been the world of pop music. Previously I have touched upon my fascination with stories about Elvis Presley, whose life can be interpreted as a cautionary tale on the perils of excess. I have also written within these pages on Steve Peregrin Took, and Tupac Shakur who came to similarly sticky ends. Syd Barrett of Pink Floyd also comes to mind as an example of one who, like icarus, soared too close to the sun and faced the consequences of his excesses, although in his case, he lost his mind rather than his life. These stories of pop star debauchery are compelling.

Other cautionary tales include the story of the band Slade, which attempted to conquer America only to return home with a much diminished fan base and no real stateside following.

I'm not fully aware of current pop stars, but I am sure that similar narratives exist even in the seemingly more sterile music scene of today. Amy Winehouse and Pete Doherty of the Libertines are the most recent that come to my mind. But I am aware that I am now old and out of touch.

My canon of pop music is not all doom and gloom. Iggy Pop is one whose trajectory followed in the opposite direction. He was rescued by David Bowie from a life of drugs and excess and transformed into a different person through their creative partnership. Together they created classic albums, such as "The Idiot" and "Lust for Life," the title track of the latter featuring in the opening of the film "Trainspotting," introducing him to a much wider audience, and cementing his position as the godfather of punk and almost an establishment figure in the history of Rock and Roll. Subsequently he took on acting roles in film and television, (Including an appearance in Star Trek, Deep Space Nine) and is now a regular BBC radio presenter who has, against all odds, outlived his old mentor Bowie.

Bowie was my first pop idol. There are many homilies to be found in the stories of his life. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again (he was in a string of less than successful bands in various guises before he hit the big time. When at last you do you succeed, try, try again (he re-invented his style and appearance many times throughout the remainder of his career)

The story of Ziggy Stardust serves as a modern myth, describing the rise and fall of a pop superstar. It is said that in playing the character of Ziggy Bowie notably struggled with his own identity. He famously "killed off" the character during a live performance in order to reclaim himself.

Perhaps that story is itself a myth. perhaps it was all just stagecraft and publicity. But what a story!

The concept of reinventing oneself while potentially losing one’s original identity is intriguing. A popular horror trope is one where, a ventriloquist succumbs to the persona of his own dummy, even though it is one that he himself has created. This idea resonates deeply with the experiences of many artists. I remember seeing a documentary in which the comedian Graham Fellows spoke of having therapy to help him with his misgivings about his relationship to most famous creation, John Shuttleworth. And was John Richie the art student, doomed to a terrible end from the moment that he took on the stage persona of Sid Vicious?

Whatever, during my teenage years, the music and lyrics of David Bowie really spoke to me. He portrayed characters that a misfit, fucked up teenager could really empathise with - outcasts, aliens, the misunderstood¹, and he never did it better than when he played Ziggy. The lyrics reached out to me -

“As the knives seem to lacerate your brain” he sang, “I’ve had my share, I can help you with the pain - You’re not alone!”

How many kids like me were sucked in by that lyric from Rock & Roll suicide? A few lines later he cries “Gimme your hands - You’re wonderful!” and it feels like the sort of thing that Jesus would say to you, if he had spiked up orange hair and was cool beyond belief.

When Ian Parks wanted to publish some of my poetry through his Glasshead Press imprint, I realised that I had a lot of poems about my Dad, my teachers, and other influential male characters. Recognising the theme, I created a few poems specifically to fit in with it. The following one about David Bowie was one such piece. The collection was eventually called “A Voyage Around My Father Figures and Other Male Role Models” ²

The poem was used as the lyrics for a Pocketful O’Nowt song, which we recorded online during the lockdown, one of the last things we ever did as a band before calling it a day. For the curious, the video is on YouTube.

It has resonated with a few people. Not only Bowie fans either. One chap asked me if he could perform it, changing ‘David Bowie” to “Bob Dylan”. I readily agreed. It was a great feeling to know that it meant something to someone over and above my obsession with David Bowie.

Jesus Couldn’t Understand But David Bowie Could

The church smelled of polish and dusty old books
The church hall of stewed tea and sweat
But my record player smelled modern and fresh
As did the records I’d get
And the songs that I heard, every line every word
Had meaning for me as a kid
My spirit was stirred, I knew what I preferred
God never spoke to me, but David Bowie did

My life was all change, it was hard fitting in 
Growing up, getting on, doing right, 
And who could I ask? Who could show me the way?
It was dark, and I needed a light
Someone on my side, a friend and a guide
Somebody trustworthy and good
Someone qualified, who could not be denied
Jesus couldn’t understand, but David Bowie could

All the worries I had. There was no one to help
These were things I could not ask my dad
All those unresolved issues and things left unsaid
Left me feeling unsettled and bad
Sometimes I’d pray at the end of the day
But it never did me any good
Faith brought no suggestions to help with my questions
The angels wouldn’t answer, but David Bowie would

1. And men pursued by wisecracking gnomes.

2. I still have a large amount of copies under the very desk that I am writing at at this very moment. If you want to send me your address and a few quid for postage, I’ll send you one. Yes - its a cheap version of an idea by Tom Cox.