Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/627675
maltatoday, SUNDAY, 17 JANUARY 2016 24 Opinion I n a way, I almost feel doubly sorry for Alan Rickman. Not only did he pass away this week at the not-quite venerable age of 69 – robbing both stage and cinema of a rare combination of sublime acting talent and basic human decency – but he did this just two days after the world had already woken to the news that David Bowie was no more. I am reminded of Titus Andronicus's reaction when confronted with the brutally dismembered remains of his beloved son. Sorry, Alan: it's not that I won't miss you, or think any less of your accomplishments. But I have no more tears to shed. There is only so much grief a man can afford to invest in dead celebrities he never knew personally. And Bowie has exhausted my entire supply for the next 10 years at least. There is, however, something almost appropriate about the timing. It is almost another example of David Bowie having 'been there and done that' before… setting a few dozen trends along the way. Bowie dies unexpectedly at 69? Why, it follows that someone else would copy the idea, and do exactly the same thing a few days later. It is exactly how Bowie's entire career had unfolded from the very beginning. And what a career, too. I spent the past few days going over his entire discography – concentrating for the most part on that dizzying bust of creativity between 1969 and (roughly) 1985 – and I was almost startled by the number of things I suddenly seemed to notice for the first time. One of the things that had initially attracted me to Bowie's music were the lyrics. Around 20 years ago, I remember thinking that 'The Man Who Sold The World' was an underrated lyrical masterpiece, to be considered for literary merit alongside Wordsworth, T.S. Eliot, John Donne, etc. All these years later, I realise I was listening to it then at roughly the same age as Bowie was when he wrote the album 10 years earlier. Yes, of course we both thought that 'quoting Nietzsche' would automatically qualif y your work for serious academic acclaim. Years later, Bowie would express embarrassment over the lyrics to 'The Supermen'… and listening to it again today, I find myself cringing on his behalf. But that is also what makes the connection to David Bowie so much more visceral than other artists: there is a sense of having grown up together, and evolved accordingly along our different lines. Not many recording artists can claim the same connection. Not all songwriters open windows through which you can catch occasional glimpses of their inner psyche. Off hand, the only other example I can think of (not counting the dead, of course) is Bob Dylan. Bowie himself must have felt the same way about Robert Allen Zimmermann – he dedicated a song to Dylan on 'Hunky Dory', an album which probably would never have existed at all, had Bowie not one day listened to 'Highway 61 Revisited'. What both artists have in common – apart from their mutual inf luence on each other – is that you can simply get lost in the various chapters and interludes of their prolific careers. In the course of 28 studio albums, David Bowie exhibited a startling personal artistic evolution, each individual phase accompanied by a sudden, often inexplicable transformation. It wasn't just the make-up and the wardrobe that changed from act to act: the musical direction between Space Oddity (1969) and Heroes (1977) seems to bifurcate exponentially with each new turn. One of the albums I had often overlooked was 'Young Americans' (1976) – it is almost impossible to reconcile the chirpy, jazzy feel of that record with the one that came immediately before: 'Diamond Dogs', which at moments sounds like the soundtrack to a horror film. (Speaking of which: another case of been there, done that: vide 'Cat People'.) Until you pay attention to the lyrics. The second thing I noticed – and which startled me more – was how very dark it often was to be lost in Bowieland. If we can talk of common threads running through the corridors of his work, one recurring theme would have to be the monumental loneliness of the quintessential 'other'. 'Space Oddity', on the surface, tells of an astronaut who loses contact with Ground Control and drifts off into space. Later, 'Ashes to Ashes' would expand the image into a metaphor for heroin addiction ("We know Major Tom's a junkie"). But even here, a decade later, Bowie is still 'sitting in a tin can', far above a world he cannot reach. "I want an axe to break the ice," he sings. "I want to come down right now…" And for all his chameleon-like "Ch-Ch-Changes", this one theme remains constant throughout the various incarnations. Regardless of the exterior guise, Bowie Raphael Vassallo -\SS*VSV\Y=LYZPVU C: M: Y: K: 0 0 0 100 C: M: Y: K: 0 100 100 0 C: M: Y: K: 50 100 100 20 TUNA AQUAMED MFF Ltd. - Hangar, Triq it-Trunciera, Marsaxlokk MXK1522 T: 2247 5000 E: contact@ebcon.com.mt www.mff.com.mt Farmed in Maltese offshore waters and delivered to you with special attention to freshness and to the highest standards. LOOK FOR OUR QUALITY MARK IN YOUR SUPERMARKET, FISHMONGER OR RESTAURANT FOR A HEALTHY LIFESTYLE. EAT FRESH EAT HEALTHY ENJOY OUR SEA BREAM Way to go, David…