onward and upward…
Well, the world is a darker, drabber place this week. I’m wishing I’d at least gone ahead with my intention to follow the David Bowie Is exhibition around a couple more places (Bilbao was on the cards, or maybe even Toronto) when still not tired of it after the half dozen visits to the V&A, and it pains me an indescribable amount to know that I will never see David Bowie play live now that I can finally afford to. I’m doing my best to forget that I passed up the chance a long time ago when somebody had a spare ticket but I didn’t have enough money for the travel.
I will never again buy a new David Bowie album, nor will I ever cross paths with him nipping to the paper shop in SoHo (more than likely on my way to Dean & Deluca) and there’s nothing either of us can do about it. It seems likely proof that if any higher power is responsible for this sort of thing some seriously foul play has been afoot over the weekend; a quota needing filled is one thing, but if the New York section required a wealthy, white, sixty nine year old man then how exactly did Donald Trump get the free pass?
However it’s also fair to say that if anybody can figure out a way to transcend the physical existence and beam new creations to us from another dimension, DB will surely be the one to do so. If he hasn’t already. Fingers crossed.
So after a dizzying and eventually numbing Monday spent mostly riveted to 6Music’s make-it-up-as-we-go-along Bowie day with a lot of strong tea and a fair percentage of the rest of the music-listening population I washed my face, gathered myself together and headed to Manchester for some light relief in the shape of an evening with Henry Rollins. There’s a sentence you don’t hear every day, but our Henry has mellowed a fair bit.
For those who won’t get to a show there’s always 6Music where Henry is sitting in for Iggy Pop of a Friday evening for the next couple of weeks, which includes my birthday although I don’t think he’s taking requests (not that it’ll stop me trying). I won’t spoil things for the multiple people I know who are looking forward to going themselves, but in addition to the not-entirely-unexpected Bowie – and not forgetting Lemmy, Gawd rest him – anecdotes being just what I needed, the candour, warmth and kindness were a huge bonus. Still an angry man, though. There’s plenty to be angry about, after all.
Back to the now, and getting on with the rest of the week. Lets see how it goes.
More soon.
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