Death is a part of life. I know this, I accept this, and yet it doesn't make the news that many of us woke up to any easier: David Bowie has died at the age of 69.
David Bowie felt eternal. Which makes talking about him in the past tense even more heartwrenching. A true original, Bowie was the embodiment of fearlessness and individuality.
Devin, over with our friends at Birth.Movies.Death, phrased it beautifully (as well as the rest of the piece):
As with God, everybody’s relationship with Bowie is deeply personal. Everybody’s relationship with Bowie is one-on-one.
For many readers of FYA, David Bowie will always be the Goblin King in Labyrinth. I haven't seen this yet myself (which I'm obviously rectifying ASAP), but even I know the transcendence and smoulder of the dance magic-wielding and codpiece-wearing Jareth.
For my FYA JAM partner-in-crime, Jennie:
David Bowie is one of the major voices of my childhood. I never felt "cool" as my peers -- when they were listening to M.C. Hammer and Paula Abdul, I was that dorky eight year old who could sing "Space Oddity" (and, in fact, this is the first David Bowie song I remember hearing and remarking upon to my parents). I didn't realize how much I'd miss him until news of his death broke overnight: his odd, lovely voice, heterochromatic eyes, and chameleon-like style have been a constant in my life.
He shows up in the strangest places, too: Nirvana and Wallflowers covers, Twin Peaks, Zoolander. He was constantly referenced in Gilmore Girls. Seeing him on screen is to be visited by that effortlessly cool, sexy older man you wish you could be with. Or be.
I'll leave you with one of my favorite Bowie songs ("The Man Who Sold The World"), and my favorite uses for it: to set the scene when Lane kisses Dave Rygalski for the first time.
For me, my relationship with David Bowie is mostly through music. I'll admit; I don't have an encyclopedic knowledge of his discography, but there are three songs that will surely play in my head for the rest of the day.
There's the effortlessly cool "Under Pressure", featuring another late great in Freddie Mercury.
But my absolute favourite Bowie song has to be "Space Oddity", which manages to tell a deeply haunting, affecting story in five minutes that most storytellers could only dream of accomplishing in longer form.
Tonight, I'll be listening to David Bowie's songs on infinite repeat and watching a double bill of The Prestige and Zoolander, because I'll need something to make me smile after one of the brightest lights in the universe has been extinguished.
How will you remember David Bowie?