David Bowie: The Impossible Man

It's not fair to call David Bowie a musician, in the same way it it's not fair to call Barack Obama a lawyer.

He transcended what it meant to be a human being- whether it was sex, or money, or fame, or food- any basic instinctual hole that we mere mortals thirst for, he never even seemed to need. He was a trickster god, a fool who held the power almighty.

Nobody could ever figure him out. When it came to his sexuality, his beliefs, his relationships, his politics, he was simply too good at coming close to being understood just before he morphed into something different. He was everything. He rebelled against everything. He was a chameleon who reflected society back at itself in absurdity while playing some of the greatest music of all time.

His music is experience that didn't fit into two genres, let alone one. His albums all built upon each other- his initial self titled debut consisted of Baroque pop and sing-song ditties, songs called “Sell me a Coat” and “Come and Buy Me Toys,”- unironic, instrument forward songs that precede the music everything thinks of when they hear David Bowie's name. Here, one would say, is where he became something else; a giant.

These dance hall sounds built the foundation for everything that was to come afterwards- incorporating the head banging riffs and bluesy solos into Space Oddity, the hard rock notions of and glam rock that came from an alternate persona (Ziggy Stardust)- and then, he built on those, well into an incredible career that lasted more than 35 years.

His music was the intersection of everything that was musically happening at the time. His personae reflected everything that was culturally happening at the time. The man began and ended genres and cultural eras by himself.

He had been battling cancer for nearly 18 months before he passed, and was writing and recording an album for the majority of that time. He kept his cancer a secret, as Rolling Stone's Joe Levy reported. Bowie told him that he wanted his art to speak for itself- while he was writing an album about coming face to face with his mortality.

He was a real life science fiction character. In his art, he was a universe traveling warrior against the forces of the banal, and nobody tried to prove him wrong because everyone was too scared to find out it wasn't true. That's what he meant to us.

His final album, Blackstar, is his final message to humanity- you aren't just hearing the words of Bowie, you're hearing his Gospel. “I'm not a film star, I'm not a pop star, I'm not a gang star- I'm a Blackstar.” Wikipedia says that a black star could refer to any number of hypothetical cosmic anomalies, all of which involve the reference of a black hole- A constant, hypothetical, all powerful entity. If that's where he is and what he's doing (and frankly, he's never been wrong before), he'll be there longer than any of us will be anything. If anybody earned immortality, it was David Fucking Bowie.

Everything was art for Bowie. He inspired people constantly, despite the changing world around him, because he changed faster than the world. I'm starting to honestly believe that the only reason any of us were lucky to have him was because he sent himself back in time to change history for the better. So, when I think about it, maybe David Bowie didn't die- he just went somewhere he was needed more.

And finally, I'll say this to the end- nobody would give anything resembling a shit about Zoolander if it weren't for the David Bowie cameo as the judge of a fashion “walk-off.” The inclusion of Bowie in that role is a tribute, because if David Bowie ever said you weren't cool, then dammit, you weren't cool.

Sam lives and works in Austin, TX, and wants to be an alligator, a space invader, and a rocking/rolling bitch for you.  Follow him on twitter or send him your favorite Bowie lyrics at swellbo@gmail.com