I spent yesterday driving from southern to northern France on my way to Germany, flitting between the radio stations of the two countries, listening to all that was said about that newly fallen star, David Bowie.
Behind all his creative antics that thrilled us so much, pushing the boundaries of art and rock and roll, what a nice guy! I am so sad he’s gone, because we need elders such as these. I am shaken by mortality: in 1969, 69 seemed old; now it seems young.
But then I get utterly furious. How dare the likes of Cameron sing his praises! Shut up, please!
There is nothing in Bowie’s oeuvre that supports the Wounded Leader agenda. Nothing! These people should really leave those kind of people alone. Most of art, when it works, is against the Establishment. Don’t they realise this?
Charles Dickens, Salvador Dali, Andy Worhol, Vincent Van Gogh, Ken Kesey, Goerge Orwell, Bob Dylan, Ronnie Laing, David Bowie, Oliver Stone … sure they wanted fame, but their whole raison d’être was against convention. They wanted to change things.
Don’t you dare say you like them, Cameron and co.! Keep your grimy hands off!
I am still angry. Sorry.
I do not want to know whether George Osborne likes the music I like. I cannot reconcile myself to these people liking the Doors, the Pretty Things, the Yardbirds, Taj Mahal, Ry Cooder, Stevie, Wonder, Eric Bibb, or even the Stranglers or the Sex Pistols. These people’s music is against anything those people stand for. Don’t they get it? If the corporate worlds hadn’t got to them, they wouldn’t even have heard of them. To like this music, Wounded Leaders have to dissociate from everything it is about: the words, the music, the beat that is in the heart and the genitals, not the head.
Lets make a deal: you guys can have Gilbert and Sullivan, the Eagles and Benjamin Britten. Leave me the rest.
Rock and roll has its roots in the music of West African slaves, disenfranchised Highlanders and Irish paupers, all who were forced to become immigrants by the powers of the day. They put their aching souls and their rhythmic loins that refused to die into this music. It is especially not about being in the Establishment.
Leave our Heroes alone please, and we’ll not go round singing the praises of Lord Nelson – OK, deal?