Z’s Music Monday: David Bowie
“It’s loud and tasteless
and I’ve heard it before
You shout it while you’re dancing
on the whole dance floor
Oh bop, fashion…”
-David Bowie - “Fashion”
Some of you may have thought that I’ve lost interest in Baby Z’s musical education. I’ve not done a Z’s Music Monday post in ages. It’s not that I’ve stopped playing music for him, quite the contrary, it’s just now that he’s mobile he doesn’t sit still and allow me to subject him to whole albums anymore. He also sleeps throught the night now, so there are no more Sunday pre-dawn listenings. He’s developed his Mum’s attention span - listens for a song or two and then heads off after the dog or a passing wallaby. I managed to sit on him long enough the other day to force some David Bowie on him. He bolted as soon as my attention was diverted, so it’s hard to know how much he enjoyed it, but Bowie got some chuckles during the howls in “Diamond Dogs”. That’s as close as we get to approval these days.
I don’t know what made me play him Bowie. I’m not a huge David Bowie fan. I certainly recognize his place in the musical pantheon. But really he was at his creative peak before my time. In the 80’s, when I became aware of Bowie, he was a megastar. Don’t get me wrong, he did some wonderful things in that decade, but even in my teens I had enough musical taste to recognize that his duet with Mick Jagger (and the accompanying video) was a crime against humanity. I never really forgave Bowie for “Dancin’ In The Streets”.
I got by happily for most of the 90’s with just the greatest hits compilation, “Changesbowie”, which spanned most of Bowie’s career from 1969 through the late 80’s. This compilation always makes me think of my time in Seattle in 1994 & 95. I had come off a pretty disastorous relationship, one that threw me around a bit emotionally (fragile flower that I was). After it ended, I made the decision to shake things up a bit in my life and try my hand at something I had always been vaguely passionate about - photography.
I started off shooting little known local bands, actors and the like for free or cost. I was not particularly good, but I tried hard and got a couple of breaks - magazine work and the like. Buoyed buy the taste of success and ample amounts of mind-altering substances I made the decision that the only thing standing in the way of me being the next Annie Leibowitz (other than male genitalia and a notable lack of talent) was my full-time job. I showed up one day, told them where to stick their job and walked out a bon-a-fide freelance photographer. I rented some converted warehouse space in the Pioneer Square neighborhood of Seattle, hung a shingle and waited for the money to roll in. It didn’t happen that way.
Seattle in the 90’s was a hot bed for music, and I did a fair bit of work for bands, most of whom had no money. Getting paid in CDs, beer or pot was OK for a while, but it didn’t pay the rent. In an effort to branch out a bit, I stumbled into fashion photography. Fashion paid well, but was extremely competitive. For someone with only a mediocre talent, I still found myself short at the end of the month. I also found that I had no head for business. When I got paid I usually reinvested my paycheck not in film or equipment or advertising or even rent, but in the closest night club or drug dealer. When the party stopped a few days later I found I had no money and started from scratch again.
This lack of both business acumen and notable talent resulted in me sharing my studio with two other photographers. The ebbs and flows of the fashion business meant that at various times all of the three of us were working in the studio space and sleeping in bunks that we built above our darkroom. Our studio was sandwiched between a couple of gay fashion designers on one side and a tweaky crystal meth dealer on the other. See, if I had been a better businessman, I would have marketed a visit to the studio as a one stop shop for all your modeling needs.
David Bowie was one of a handful of tapes that the three of us owned and the only one that was really appropriate for shooting fashion models. (Some of the others included Alanis Morisette’s “Jagged Little Pill”, The Beastie Boys’ “Ill Communication” and Alice in Chains’ “Dirt”. See why we used Bowie?) So on the days when all of us were working we might have heard “Changesbowie” ten times. Even “Ziggy Stardust” gets a little tiresome on the tenth listen, nevermind that piece of shit “Heroes”. It’s a testament to Bowie’s talent that I can stomach him today.
Two of the three of us in that Seattle warehouse were mediocre at best. But one of us, the one whose photos I’ve used to illustrate this post, was an excellent photographer. After a couple of years in Seattle he made the jump to the big city. He’s been working in New York since the mid-90’s and from what I hear, and see, is doing pretty well. Check out more of his images here.
I know that I’ve drifted away from the stated theme of this post which, in case you’ve forgotten, was David Bowie. I now own a half dozen or so Bowie albums, particularly those early Glam/Sci-Fi records. Most of these have been acquired in the last two or three years. The first thing was hearing Seu Jorge’s wonderful covers of Bowie tracks in “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou” (Anne-Marie, do all the interns get Glocks? ). The second was living in Britain. My three years in the south of England gave me a greater appreciation for a number of British artists. I still can’t quite put my finger on it, but seeing the passion with which the apparently passionless English hold for some of their musicians makes you see them in a different light. This was certainly the case for Bowie. I still don’t class myself as a super fan, but there are days when nothing will suffice but “Aladdin Sane” and I certainly want the boy to hear Bowie when he was at his best.
Image credits: All photos are by Mark Veltman as featured in the New York Times.
Popularity: 39% [?]
Not thinking things through is sort of the story of my life. I prefer to call it charmingly impulsive, others (the glass half-empty gang) call it recklessly impetuous. Either way, I’m here today with all limbs intact, so who are you going to side with?
I was listening to 
“A bluejay hectors from the felled Catalpa tree.
The whole two job things is great, in theory. That was, until I walked out of the house yesterday morning. He followed me to the door with an expression of hopeful confusion and just wrecked me for the morning.
The older I get, the more I appreciate the darkly twisted 
Thomas Bryan Eaton
“I’ve had a rough night, and I hate the fucking Eagles, man.”
I was listening to the new 
