David Bowie’s death on 10th January was one of
those events that make the world seem a very different place afterwards.
Two days earlier, on Friday 8th January, Bowie
celebrated his 69th birthday by releasing an album called ‘Blackstar’. It was a fine start to the eventful weekend I
had planned. That afternoon I travelled down
to Shakespeare and Sons on Warschauer Strasse to meet a friend I’d been
corresponding with since last autumn when he sent me a copy of his
self-published novel to review. We spent the
afternoon discussing our writing and our sources of inspiration. My friend said that the idea for his novel had begun to ferment as he listened to the music of Depeche Mode and wanted to produce a story with a soundtrack. We also talked about the role that
Berlin plays in fostering creative activity. Neither of us knows for certain how long we will be here for and we both
feel that leaving the city would have a detrimental effect on our
productivity.
That evening Alan and I met a couple of friends at a pizza
restaurant in Prenzlauer Berg and I had what is probably my most surreal Berlin
experience to date (edging out last summer’s Jarvis Cocker chocolate cake incident)
when I walked in and spotted Blixa Bargeld tapping out an imaginary tune on a
table-top while waiting for his takeaway order. It provided us with the perfect excuse to spend much of the next day
listening to Einstürzende Neubauten.
On Sunday 10th we attended the
Luxemburg-Liebknecht-Lenin Demo in Friedrichshain, walking the two kilometres
from Frankfurter Tor to the Socialist Memorial in Lichtenberg. In the evening we decided to stay in and
listen to music. I played a couple of
Bowie tracks and we spoke briefly about him, about his music and his influence. I remember entertaining a fleeting anxiety
about him based on nothing more than his age (I’d played a Velvet Underground
track and thought of Lou Reed, who died the weekend we moved to Berlin, at the
age of 71. The music world had also recently
lost Lemmy, aged just 70). In the
morning of course, I awoke to the news that Bowie had died.
My first thought was to send a message to my old friend Ian.
Although I’ve hardly seen him during the last thirty years, I still think of
him every time I hear an early Bowie track.
Ian was the first friend I ever made when, at the age of three, we
became next-door neighbours. When we were
kids he was obsessed by Bowie and was forever singing ‘Starman’. As teenagers, while I listened to Abba, he
bought albums by The Beatles and Kraftwerk and tried his best to broaden my
musical horizons. We spent much of that day reminiscing via Facebook messages
about our childhood escapades, including an adventurous bus trip to Derby as
twelve-year-olds to buy The Beach Boys’ ‘Good Vibrations’. It was only during the 80s when I went
through a phase of listening to little more than Bowie’s ‘Space Oddity’ album that
I began to fully appreciate his talent.
I also exchanged messages that day with my friend Abby who, the previous Friday, had toasted Bowie's birthday by raising a glass in front of the poster on her wall - the iconic white face with lightning-bolt make-up.
Many music business deaths have occurred in shocking or sensational circumstances.
I was sad when Amy Winehouse died and stunned by the murder of John Lennon. But
I genuinely grieved – am still grieving – over Bowie's gentle passing. It’s possible that being
in Berlin has something to do with it; Bowie is loved here. His productive (and
redemptive) stay in 1976-78 is legendary.
Shortly after the news broke on Monday morning, candles and floral
tributes began to accumulate around the doorway of Hauptstrasse 155, where
Bowie had shared a flat with Iggy Pop. His death was the top story on the German news
channels. One politician even credited
him with bringing down the Berlin Wall, such is his reputation in the city’s pantheon
of ‘Heroes’.
On Saturday, under a brooding sky, we made the journey over
to Hauptstrasse to pay our respects. It’s an unassuming, nondescript street and I’d only been there once before, having
incorporated a visit to Bowie's former address into a walk which included the Winterfeldplatz Market and the
Kleistpark. It was incredibly
moving to see the entrance to what is now a dental surgery festooned with
flowers, flickering candles, and messages from mourning fans.
There is talk of renaming Hauptstrasse ‘David Bowie Strasse’
in his honour. I hope it happens.
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