I heard of his passing on the radio before I left that home that morning 4 years ago today, I went upstairs and told my wife then sent a couple of texts. I had to go work outside of London via Paddington that day. I broke the Londoners TFL taboo and looked into the eyes of countless strangers I passed for recognition of the same pain and loss I felt but couldn’t yet articulate. I thought saw it in some and assumed they saw the same reflected in me. Others were blank and oblivious. They’ve missed out on so much, how grey must their world be, I thought. I got on with my work including a negotiation with person who seemed oblivious. It was hard not to feel resentment and disdain against them to this day. Above the discussions my mind screamed in silence: How could it not matter to you that Bowie died today? What kind of person are you?
When I got back to Paddington it was there for 5 million Londoners to see. David Bowie RIP in warm white lights revolving around the BT tower. It was beautiful and fitting. I didn’t go down to the Brixton candle lit vigil where strangers linked arms and sang songs, maybe I should have done but I think that the impact on us where Bowies work in concerned is often very personal, we all have our own stories and so many of them over the decades. It was between you and him. There were many years spent passing a particular album in the rack of the record store, until one day you buy it on a whim and privately enter another world; as if by magic. A piece of vinyl or a CD that could and indeed did lead to adventures…A tribute concert isn’t necessary, there’s too much work, it’s too big and too small at the same time. He features in almost every chapter of the dadless soundtrack listed at the back of the book, that’s how much his work meant, it was all between the two of us.