Last Laugh of the Laughing Gnome…

What a lot of insincere garbage has been spewed about David Bowie this week! I suppose the press is having an orgasmic moment at the gift his death has given them. We’ve been treated to scenes outside his New York apartment, scenes outside his Brixton flat, scenes outside the place in Berlin where he stayed; what next? Scenes outside a hotel in Llandudno where he might have had a holiday as a child? If he was anywhere now he’d be laughing his multicoloured socks off like he did in that unmentioned-in-the-reports early single, ‘The Laughing Gnome’ [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyQxTWDLZ8o]

We’ve heard how he ‘changed my life’, ‘changed the face of Britain’, ‘changed world politics’. What next? Changed evolution? Changed the climate? –Oh no-that’s managing to change all by itself.

Of course everyone has had to leap onto the grief bandwagon-from the PM to astronaut Tim Peake. Interviews with ‘grieving’ fans have included a vast number who can surely barely have heard of him, having been born in the 90s. ‘You’ve got your own style icons and musical heroes!’ I want to shout, ‘Leave ours alone!’

But who are they, the world famous, ground-breaking musical geniuses of today? I suppose I am as guilty of ignorance regarding current musical talents as my parents would have been about Bowie, but how many of them span the decades as he did? Ed Sheeran? Justin Bieber? Heaven forbid! Sam Smith and Adele may have produced songs for James Bond movies but I doubt their catalogues will endure forty years.

I was a student when Bowie turned out what I consider to be his best albums, ‘Hunky Dory’ and ‘Aladdin Sane’. These were the upbeat, optimistic, rocky tunes that I still feel were his best; not for me the introspective, brooding ballads that came later. In truth I am probably just a little too old for him to have been a hero since I had cut my teeth listening to rock and roll and came to student-dom from teenage years as a fringe hippy, already having attended Chicken Shack, ELP, King Crimson, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd concerts. I arrived to my hall of residence with Carole King, Cat Stevens and Tyrannosaurus Rex LPs to play on my Dansette record player. I adored The Rolling Stones and became obsessed by The Faces. Later I did buy my two favourite Bowie albums, but only these.

Glam rock was already underway by the time Bowie reached a pinnacle. We all bought into it with platform boots, satin shirts and colourful ‘loon pants’, much to the bewilderment of our parents, a generation who were scandalised daily by the appearance, behaviour and culture of the young. Little did they know that Punk was just around the corner and was about to erupt in a grungy rash of piercings, abusive language, noise, snot and vomit.

Now there is too much horror in the news for anyone to be shocked by the culture of youth. Perhaps that’s why music, fashion and popular culture has become so commercial and sanitised? Or is it simply that there is nothing new under the sun? Ho hum…

 

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