It’s been two days now, and I’ve barely started to process the fact that he’s gone. As Ned Raggett said, seeing Bowie referred to in the past tense on Wikipedia seems wrong, in some way. But we will have to get used to the world seeming wrong.
I’ve stayed out of the way on the “in memoriam” post and let you talk; I’ve done enough talking on this blog over the years. It was your turn, as it was in the poll. Which, eerily, served as a commemoration of Bowie’s body of work in the weeks before he died. I wondered if he ever read the blog, but didn’t think he did. But I hope that maybe someone told him about the poll, so he could see how much you loved him.
I hope the blog’s helped; I hope using the Twitter feed as a Bowie radio station and news service has helped.
The plan was, way back when in happy early January, that I would write the last Next Day entry, “Heat,” and then take a hiatus until late spring or summer. Because it felt like Blackstar was the start of something new, and that there would be more songs, and more developments to come, and I needed time to absorb it all and try to think about the songs.
And that’s more true than ever now. I am so grateful that I didn’t write about “Sue” yet, or the Lazarus songs, because they’ve all changed radically now for me. Bowie’s entire comeback, starting with the morning that we found out about “Where Are We Now?” seems to be one whole work: the greatest piece of performance art of the 21st Century. Or the last.
So: there will be a long time before the next entry. At some point later this year, hopefully sooner than later, I’ll turn the lights back on, and we’ll start with “Heat” and go through to the end. Which is not the end. I hope that Duncan Jones or whoever runs the estate will keep authorizing releases of dozens of unheard Bowie songs annually for the rest of my days.
I saw someone saying somewhere that I was always “complaining” about Bowie releasing new material. I wasn’t. It was a joke. I was the butt of it: I was Bowie’s straight man. He will always be pushing ahead of me; I’ll never catch him.
Take care. Talk soon.