Suspended in my masquerade

The Dudes

I once had a fling with David Bowie. His music, I mean.

My introduction to the man began long ago in an out-of-the-way, long-gone record store in Kingston, Pa., right after "Ziggy Stardust" came out. I was still looking to fill the unimaginably large music hole left by the Beatles breakup and had seen a blurb about the record in "Creem." The owner said to me, as I contemplated purchasing the album as I held it in my hand, "that is the hottest guy in town." Naive as I was, I still found quite hard to believe that the Spiders from Mars could have any impact on that sleepy suburb. He said something along those same lines when I added Zappa's "Waka Jawaka" to my purchases.

Then I really knew he was full of it.

I rather liked (and still do) "Ziggy," becoming especially fond of then sidekick Mick Ronson. But I mostly had a lukewarm relationship with Bowie through the years, liking some, dismissing most of the rest. And I admittedly lost touch with him after a so-so performance I witnessed at the Dean Dome around 1988.

But Bowie, who shockingly died today, was the sort of which we won't see again, I think. Yeah, that's a cliche, but along with making a lot of very good music, he sort of made weird (and I mean weird in the most positive way possible) somewhat mainstream. I don't know if that part is good or bad. After all, now it's normal to be weird, if that makes sense.

Being responsible for "All the Young Dudes," was more than good, though.