RIP David

I was a little too young for the death of Marilyn Monroe to really resonate with me and however much I loved George Harrison his stabbing and subsequent battle with cancer made me feel a little relief for him in some way. There are other famous international icons that strike a chord with me (and most of the world’s population) to the extent that we remember precisely where we were and what we were doing when we received the news of their untimely deaths.

Friday November 22^nd 1963 I was laying on my bed playing a game I had invented called cricket – a high tech version of the ball game requiring only two pencils and an exercise book – when my father shouted up the stairs “President Kennedy has been shot”; Tuesday August 16^th 1977 I was walking from Brighton Station towards the clock tower with my friend Kevin Searle when we passed a man crying “the King is dead, the King is dead”; Tuesday December 9^th 1980 I was driving to Brighton to take an accountancy exam when I turned on the radio to hear that John Lennon had been murdered; I woke up on Sunday 31^st August 1997 had my breakfast ready to go cycling with my club and turned on the television to the news that Princess Diana had died in a car crash; Monday January 11^th 2016 I was sitting on the loo when a text came through from a friend informing me that David Bowie was dead.

The end of an era is an understatement. For me, once the Beatles had split up pop music began to die and all I had to look forward to was the individual output of the four lads. The only other artist I was interested in enough to buy his music was a young shaggy-haired musician known as David Bowie.

I was switched on to David the first time I heard Space Oddity in 1969. The quirky voice, space age song and flared trousers – before they became fashionable – were reason enough to find the man interesting but over the course of the next four years my love was cemented. My younger brother was an even bigger fan at this time and Shaun not only bought all David’s English albums but also those in German and Japanese – something I soon copied.

To me Ziggy Stardust lived.

I also loved the fact that this monster performer was influenced by some of the same things as I was. The Strange World of Gurney Slade was the most surreal television show I can ever remember seeing. It starred the magnificent Anthony Newley and in songs such as Laughing Gnome and Love You Til Tuesday you can clearly see how similar David’s voice is to Newley’s.

In 1971 I became friends with David’s half-brother Terry Burns and we shared many an adventure. Terry suffered from manic depression and was institutionalised at Cane Hill Hospital in Coulsdon, Surrey but I often took him for a pint to the Red Lion or the Victoria Club in Coulsdon. Terry was a massive Neil Diamond fan and would always play Cracklin’ Rosie on the jukebox and leave me to play his brother’s hits.

Before Terry’s ultimate death he had attempted suicide previously and I remember one occasion when both he and my aforementioned friend Kevin were not only in Mayday hospital at the same time but in adjacent beds, both suffering from broken legs due to jumping off buildings. How bizarre is that for two of my friends to meet each other in such a way!

On the one occasion Terry informed me David was to visit him I couldn’t resist going to Cane Hill but was totally star-struck and ended up playing snooker with the charge-nurse on the ward next door without even a glimpse of my idol.

Like all Bowie fans I followed David through all his numerous changes of style and appearances, awaited his latest videos with baited breath and was always mesmerised by his performances.

I only ever saw David live on one occasion, at Wembley in 1983 during his Serious Moonlight tour.

Wow! He looked amazing with his quaffed blond tinted hair but he truly was remarkable with a fantastic mime sequence, a rare sax solo and totally live singing of all his greatest hits plus all his new stuff from the Let’s Dance album – China Girl being truly memorable and sooo dramatic and intense.

My dear June was as mesmerised as I was and it’s such a shame that due to her Alzheimer’s she can no longer remember David but at the time she thought the concert was even better than when she saw her fellow Welsh superstars Tom Jones and Shirley Bassey.

I suppose the only way I can explain my devotion to David is that I even loved all those that loved him so I became a fan of Lou Reed, of Velvet Underground, of Iggy Pop, of Boy George of Paul Weller (who incidentally was a dead ringer for David in his early days) even though I didn’t really get their music.

RIP lovely boy x