Loving The Alien

"Don't fake it, baby,

Lay the real thing on me...
You know the church of mad love
Is such a holy place to be."
David Bowie, 'Moonage Daydream' (Live Version)

I can remember vividly the day I was chatting to a make up guy on set in the late 80s, mostly about James & post-punk bands such as The Comsat Angels & Magazine, when the conversation turned to David Bowie. I had had a mixed start with Bowie as the first album I bought of his was a second hand LP of "Heroes" which I absolutely adored & was completely mesmerised by, but my next purchase was Let's Dance, which was very different to "Heroes" & left me quite underwhelmed. I had gone from the space of ambient tracks like 'Moss Garden', the haunting & eerie 'Sons of the Silent Age' & the genuinely terrifying 'Sense of Doubt', to crisp clear production & Bowie looking more like a tanned office worker instead of the otherworldly android that had graced the cover of "Heroes." It's difficult to recall just what a different world it was back then in the late 80s in terms of having access to music, & it was difficult to find out much about Bowie from my friends as they were too busy getting stoned & only having time for bands with singers who couldn't sing, singing songs with lyrics about ridiculous things like losing jumpers, eating too much apple pie & trying to find a lost polar bear. There were also so many Bowie albums to choose from that because of my experience with Let's Dance, I became hesitant at just picking out one of the many - as even second hand vinyl was still quite expensive - so I didn't explore much further at that point. However, through talking to the aforementioned make up guy, who was a real Bowie aficionado, I was taken through Bowie's different phases & advised on which ones to try first. His first suggestion, seeing that I already had "Heroes", was Station To Station, & with a look of genuine envy he said to me, "You're just about to go away & discover the world of David Bowie - I'm so jealous of you!" And with that, the majority of those second hand LPs were raided & I discovered the true majesty of David Bowie.

My first hint that he was destined to play a big part in my life & psyche, however, came not from one of his albums but from a Live Beat Club performance that was shown on VH1 in the mid 90s that Bowie had performed in 1978. His voice & look on that show was absolutely magical, & he & his band looked like the most gloriously decadent bunch on earth. It was also the first time I really witnessed what a tremendous performing artist he was, & that 40 minute recording is still stashed away as I have never recorded over it. So, the idea of Bowie had taken a firm root by this time, but it wasn't until a few years later that Bowie rocketed to the dizzying heights of being one of the stellar influences on my life.

Little did I know, when I was first introduced to Lydia, that this extraordinary lady, who looked so remarkably like a Pre-Raphaelite heroine that I thought one of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's paintings had come to life & was sitting on the sofa next to me, also carried a bit of a torch for Bowie & listening & talking together about him was another integral part of that glamorous glue that was destined to bring us so close together. Our first slow dance was to 'Heroes' & that song is now forever etched into my person as being our song, & 14 years later, I had the sacred joy of taking her butterfly hand & wild flower soul in marriage & when we tied the knot it was Bowie's 'Heroes' that provided the soundtrack. And it was through Bowie that I first discovered just how fox-like my beautiful partner could be, & also how, to quote Friedrich Nietzsche, I too had the immense fortune to have had my heart turned by "a woman who could not be denied!"

As I recall, it all began as a close-season Saturday with no Everton match to follow that at first glance seemed not much different from any other, when Lydia called & breathlessly informed me how she'd just won us tickets to see Bowie in Manchester as part of the Move Festival. After my screams of joy had subsided somewhat, she then told me how they'd made a mistake & had sent her tickets for the wrong night & the tickets she had received were for the night after the Bowie one, & were tickets to see Ian Brown & Paul Weller. "All you have to do is call this number & tell them they've made a mistake," she said, before suddenly announcing, "I've got to go now, I'll call you later. Bye!" And with that ended our swift conversation. I then hurriedly called the number that Lydia had given me, only to be met with a quite vexed lady who didn't want to change the tickets. "I very much doubt there's been a mistake," she told me, "why don't you & your partner go to the night you've been given tickets for?" I then poured forth my disdain that we would ever even consider going to see Ian Brown, whose voice is indescribably appalling, or even Paul Weller, who is a tad vulgar for our tastes. "No," I insisted, "there has most definitely been a mistake. My partner had obviously entered the competition in the hope we could see the Man who Fell to Earth, otherwise, she wouldn't have entered it at all, for she knows better than anyone that I would rather cover myself in jam & sit on a wasp's nest than attend an Ian Brown gig."

And then, after what seemed an age, the lady finally relented & decided that there may have been a mistake on their part, extremely unlikely though that was, & that if we went to the box office on the day of the Bowie night, the tickets would be exchanged. Emotionally drained I put the phone down & dwelt on that magical notion: I was going to see David Bowie. I don't think I slept a wink between that moment & the day of the concert a couple of weeks later such was my excitement.

Finally, the big day arrived & almost beyond my comprehension, I was going to see & hear Bowie in the flesh, & the excitement was amplified even more by the fact that the two support bands were The Divine Comedy & Suede. It was a dream line up, & I could write page after page about both of them, too, but this particular blog is about Bowie so that will have to come another time.

Then suddenly, after all the waiting & yearning, the haunting piano riff of 'Life On Mars?' began, & as the creature from another dimension took to the stage, my heart tumbled & swooned, & there he was...

The next hour & forty five minutes are completely beyond my being able to adequately describe, but I genuinely felt as if we were in the presence of an artist that had been born on a planet far, far away that had chosen to grace us with his time for a couple of hours. As dusk fell, the red sky became a dome of starlight & as Bowie sang his songs of darkness & disgrace, his incredible baritone voice, which shook the earth below us on the low notes & had the clouds dancing on his peerless vibrato, created dream upon dream that made you feel the magic, romance & occasional existential loneliness that life can bring. I had an out of body experience during 'Heathen (The Rays)' & I don't think I've ever quite wept with such an outpouring of joy & emotion as I did during 'Heroes' (maybe a part of me already knew what this song was destined to mean to Lydia & I?), trembling like a leaf whilst she tried valiantly to hold me together, wondering what on earth she'd let herself in for by getting involved with such an emotional wreck. And then, during the last song, the one thing I had truly feared would happen, actually did. This was Manchester, remember, & yes, it began to rain...

In torrents.

Straight after Bowie had finished his set to rapturous applause, Lydia & I frantically tried to find the First Aid team to explain about my CF so as to get a hot drink for me & to try & get me warm & dry as soon as possible. Quick as a flash they said, "You get him dry, we'll get the drinks." All I can actually really remember from this bit of the night was Lydia, who as most of you can probably imagine, looked like an intergalactic space goddess, quite brilliantly replying to all of the comments in the gents toilet whilst we hurriedly attempted to get me dry. It was still quite early in our relationship & the way she handled the situation filled me with pride & made me realise beyond any doubt that she was a quite exceptional human being, blessed with razor sharp wit & a rather incredible ability to disarm the most suggestive of comments with a quite withering reply. And, at that moment, nothing mattered to her except my well being, & if that meant her being surrounded by leering blokes in the gents toilet in Manchester on a Saturday night whilst she was trying frantically to get me dry & warm, all of the rest of them could, in your best Mancunian accent please, "Just do one!"

Having dried off & then enjoyed two or three piping hot mugs of tea & a cup of tomato soup, courtesy of the great First Aid team we met, we made our way home. It had been a quite extraordinary experience & one we often talk about to this very day. And although it could have ended badly, for as Lydia said to me a few days later, "you could have died because of that," I always reply with, "Yes, I could have, but at least I'd have died having seen David Bowie." And that's how I feel, because that concert was a life-changing experience. It brought Lydia & I closer together & I felt deep in my heart just how much she loved me as her actions had spoken louder than a million words & nothing had been more important to her in those moments than trying to keep me well. It was also at this time that she came up with a description of me that fitted like a velvet glove:

"I don't care that you're not a big, strong man," she told me. "I love you because of who & what you are: a boy girl space creature!" I don't think anybody, before or since, has described me with such unnerving accuracy. 

Some months later we were reminiscing about that momentous & hair raising night & I recalled the mistake with the tickets & how we may have missed Bowie if I hadn't have stood my ground with the incredulous woman on the other end of the phone. Lydia then suddenly hit me with it: "Actually, the tickets we won were just for any night of the festival but I knew if I told you that you might have given up trying to get the tickets exchanged!" After I had mopped up the tea that I'd just spilt all over my best velvet waist coat I hugged her till I cried, & knew beyond any doubt that she was a Lady made primarily of Stardust that had completely stolen my heart & soul & was quite unlike anyone else I'd ever met. "Hot Tramp, I Love You So!"

As for David Bowie himself, I still have a few more words to say...

Some people say that to truly understand a singer, you have to see & hear them performing live, & in many respects I think this is true, & it is certainly true in my relation to David Bowie. For after coming into contact with his work & persona, & certainly after the concert in Manchester, I began to see the world from an increasingly Bowiean perspective. The idea of being able to change your identity became, to me, not just a revolutionary idea, but a necessary one. The idea of being a chameleon personality that is never fixed but fluid struck me as being one of the most important things a questing human being can be. Bowie helped bring the peacock aspect of my personality to the forefront, & his blurring of gender & even species identities was absolutely thrilling & liberating. And then, of course, is the rich tapestry of people that he has been influenced by & which makes for such an incredibly rewarding & enriching find. Through him I became more acquainted with the work of Bertholt Brecht, Andy Warhol's films & the subversive & fascinating world of German cabaret, to name but a few. And I can't not mention his stunning renditions of Jacques Brel's 'Amsterdam,' & 'My Death'.

But then, about a year after we saw him, it was reported that Bowie had had a heart attack & although, fortunately, he recovered & has recorded again, he has never toured & in all likelihood, will never do so. Despite the fact that I was genuinely shocked when I heard what had happened to him, as a part of me believed that starmen never had to suffer the indignities of things such as heart attacks or bodies that don't function properly, it made that evening in Manchester with Lydia all the more precious, because if we'd have missed that, I would never have had the wonderful pleasure of hearing him singing live or seen him with my own mind's eye.

I was also incredibly fortunate to get to the astonishing 'David Bowie Is...' exhibition at the V&A Museum last year, & it was amazing to see so many of his extraordinary costumes & portraits on display. And, a bit like when I first saw a letter with Lord Byron's handwriting, the handwritten lyrics to so many of the songs that have such an important place in my heart had me swooning once again. Lydia & I soaked in the atmosphere as we watched exclusive clips of Bowie performing live & interviews from each era of his career whilst people of every nuance of gender ghosted by.

So, that's why loving the alien has been such a major part of my life. There have been times during my many hospital inpatient admissions when I have been being pounded with intravenous drugs, & the horrible side effects that quite often go hand in hand with them, & struggling at times to control some of the roller-coaster emotions of insecurity & anxiety that also often come trailing in their wake, that listening to Bowie has felt like one of the few things that have just about kept me on this side of the looking glass (although some people would probably suggest that I never am this side of the looking glass!) His tales of borderline madness & alienation certainly help me feel less alone during those times & songs such as 'Heathen (The Rays),' 'All The Madmen,' 'After All,' 'Some Are,' 'Rock 'n' Roll With Me,' 'Lady Grinning Soul,' 'The Heart's Filthy Lesson,' 'I Would Be Your Slave,' 'Lady Stardust,' 'Pablo Picasso', 'Queen Bitch', 'Cracked Actor', all of the Low album, & so many countless, countless others, have become part of my DNA. And then, last but certainly not least, is 'Heroes,' the song which we played when Lydia & I were married.

These are the things that dreams are made of.

"I, I will be King,
And you, you will be my Queen...

And we can be heroes,

Just for one day,
What do you say?"

Stay Beautiful.