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David Bowie returns (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Denny Oubidoux
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most of this zeitgeist involves re-packaged versions of previous zeitgeist(s)
- Thread starter
- #162
Fuck 
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2000
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- 5,971
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So sad. Was managing to hold it together until I heard, of all things, Under Pressure on the radio half an hour ago.
CinnamonBoy
Well-Known Member
Is it acceptable to be sitting teary-eyed at my desk?
I feel sick.
I feel sick.
Twitter has never been more mental. Best tweet has been
"we were so thrilled to have him back we didn't notice he was saying goodbye"
"we were so thrilled to have him back we didn't notice he was saying goodbye"
- Joined
- Nov 1, 2002
- Messages
- 38,438
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- 3
same
A guy called Tim Sheridan just posted this brilliant Bowie story on Facebook
____________
I used to write for a socialist paper up North called “The Other Paper’ and I covered music.
Bowie was doing Tin Machine. Which everyone hated but I thought was brilliant. I grew up with Bowie and even Punk couldn’t stop me loving him. I tried so hard to get to speak to him at the Tin Machine gig I was covering in Bradford, but there was simply no way.
Managed to get an interview with his guitarist Reeves Gabrels the next day though. Sadly I woke up that day to a coach strike (this being I think 1989) and the idea of getting a train was strictly for the rich. Gabrels was living in Kensington at the time. I was back up North for a bit.
Mind you in them days we didn’t think twice about hitching. The entrances and exits of every motorway used to have queues of hitchers. The interview was in Kensington at 1pm. It was about 9am and the drive takes about 4 hours. It didn’t look like I’d make it as the clock got to about 10. I was standing at the top of an on-ramp to the M1 somewhere near Sheffield. Just as I was about to give up a bright purple mustang roared past me, down the ramp, came to a screeching stop and very dangerously reversed back up the ramp to me. The window wound down and a jolly african face looked out and bellowed “WHERE YOU GOIN FELLOW!?” and I went “London” and he went “WELL LETS GOOOO!”
He averaged about 130mph all the way down, which in them days was pretty darn fast. He was a salesman from Ghana. I forget his name. We talked all the way about Bowie. He loved him too.
As we met traffic (again, in those days you didn’t hit traffic really until the west end) somewhere along Edgeware Road we started to crawl. We passed several interesting posters to promote Lou Reed’s new album ‘New York’. He was apparently appearing in London to promote it. The first time in a long while. Some of you may remember the posters. They were about 1ft wide and about 6 ft high, like a strip of wallpaper and had a life-sized profile full body pic of Lou. And his magnificently horrible mullet. They were unique posters at the time.
As the car was crawling towards Marble Arch on this sunny lunchtime in June I had to do a double, then a triple take. I nudged the driver and said “Am I seeing things or is that Lou Reed walking past a row of posters of himself, wearing almost exactly the same clothes and the most awful haircut ever?”
Driver was like “HOLY SHIT MY FRIEND IT IS LOU REED” (he shouted everything, he may have been deaf).
On all these occasions when I meet someone famous I always do something monumentally dickheadish. This time I leaned out the window and shouted the immortal words ;
“Hey Lou! Are you lost mate!?”
He turned around and made a beeline for the car. To be fair the car really stood out. He walked up and in a voice like an annoyed headmaster explained that of course he was lost and did we know where the ‘cum-ber-land’ hotel was?” I was like, "it’s literally just round the corner mate". He seemed a bit short sighted actually. He ambled off. It was now about 1.30 so I thanked my saviour and headed for the tube. As I crossed the 8 lanes of Marble Arch I saw Lou on the other side looking like a cartoon of a lost person looking left, right and left and right again while stood right under a giant CUMBERLAND HOTEL sign.
I just gave Lou Reed directions! Then I realised I completely lost any opportunity to make something of the moment, even if just as a person rather than a writer. Doylum.
Anyway I emerged in Kensington with a freshly bought A-Z and found the street for Reeves Gabrels. A very posh street, all red brick facades and big porches. As I approached from a distance I saw a guy playing guitar on one of the steps. It was Johnny Marr. No it really was. Again, I just turn into a northern idiot and went ;
“oh, you’re Johnny Marr. Does everyone on this street play guitar? Do you know where Reeves Gabrels lives?”
He just scowled and nodded to next door. I was beginning to go a bit funny. Anyway Reeves answered and he was really nice and he was impressed I sometimes wrote for Deadline Mag which was where Tank Girl was from and was dead cool at the time and we talked for ages, mainly about guitars really. As you’d expect.
So I started to tell him this story about meeting Lou Reed and Johnny Marr on the way but most of all what a fan I was of Bowie and how hard it was not to talk only about Bowie instead of Tin Machine and how difficult it must be trying to be ‘a band’ when it’s nothing of the sort etc etc
“Oh David’s on his way over now, you can tell him that yourself it will make him laugh cos we’re both off to see Lou Reed now at the Palladium.”
All I could think of to say was “Is Johnny going too?” and he just looked at me like I was simple.
I thought I was going to burst when Bowie turned up. I’d been waiting all my life for it. I actually felt a bit sick. Like REAL nerves. I was only young. He was smaller than you’d think, thinner and all twinkly and jolly. This was my moment. I had my chance. This was a moment some people dream of. So I said ;
“alright Dave. I’m just off the shop do you want owt?”
and he does talk like he sings, and he does sound a bit like Phil Cornwell doing an impression of him, and he said very melodiously in the voice that sang Space Oddity
“Twenny Bensons… and a packet of crisps.”
I ran all the way to the nearest shops. I found an off license and got a few tinnies as I’d promised Reeves and then went to the elderly asian lady at the counter
“twenty bensons please! they’reforDavidBowieyouknow!”
She looked at me like I was from Mars.
Running back I was dreaming that they would ask me to go along with them, I’d be re-united with Lou and we’d all roar with laughter at how funny I was and we be great mates.
Got back to the street and I couldn’t remember which house it was. They were all identical. I’d left my bag in there too. It was too posh to start knocking on doors and the were no handy indie guitar legends mooching about to give directions.
I wandered about the street feeling sick. I sat down on a step and waited. 4 hours later it was dark and no one I recognised emerged from any door. My new mates had ditched me and I still had Dave’s fags and crisps.
I woefully found my way back to Brent Cross and stuck my thumb out. Nothing stopped for hours. It was rubbish.
Eventually a small coach stopped for me that was full of people in wheelchairs who’d been taken on a day out and all their carers were pissed out of their minds. It was a fitting chariot after a really weird day. I finally got back at about 2am.
I very rarely tell this story because I have trouble believing it myself. But I hope it shows the lengths someone will go when Bowie’s name is even mentioned.
RIP Dave. I still have your fags and crisps.
____________
I used to write for a socialist paper up North called “The Other Paper’ and I covered music.
Bowie was doing Tin Machine. Which everyone hated but I thought was brilliant. I grew up with Bowie and even Punk couldn’t stop me loving him. I tried so hard to get to speak to him at the Tin Machine gig I was covering in Bradford, but there was simply no way.
Managed to get an interview with his guitarist Reeves Gabrels the next day though. Sadly I woke up that day to a coach strike (this being I think 1989) and the idea of getting a train was strictly for the rich. Gabrels was living in Kensington at the time. I was back up North for a bit.
Mind you in them days we didn’t think twice about hitching. The entrances and exits of every motorway used to have queues of hitchers. The interview was in Kensington at 1pm. It was about 9am and the drive takes about 4 hours. It didn’t look like I’d make it as the clock got to about 10. I was standing at the top of an on-ramp to the M1 somewhere near Sheffield. Just as I was about to give up a bright purple mustang roared past me, down the ramp, came to a screeching stop and very dangerously reversed back up the ramp to me. The window wound down and a jolly african face looked out and bellowed “WHERE YOU GOIN FELLOW!?” and I went “London” and he went “WELL LETS GOOOO!”
He averaged about 130mph all the way down, which in them days was pretty darn fast. He was a salesman from Ghana. I forget his name. We talked all the way about Bowie. He loved him too.
As we met traffic (again, in those days you didn’t hit traffic really until the west end) somewhere along Edgeware Road we started to crawl. We passed several interesting posters to promote Lou Reed’s new album ‘New York’. He was apparently appearing in London to promote it. The first time in a long while. Some of you may remember the posters. They were about 1ft wide and about 6 ft high, like a strip of wallpaper and had a life-sized profile full body pic of Lou. And his magnificently horrible mullet. They were unique posters at the time.
As the car was crawling towards Marble Arch on this sunny lunchtime in June I had to do a double, then a triple take. I nudged the driver and said “Am I seeing things or is that Lou Reed walking past a row of posters of himself, wearing almost exactly the same clothes and the most awful haircut ever?”
Driver was like “HOLY SHIT MY FRIEND IT IS LOU REED” (he shouted everything, he may have been deaf).
On all these occasions when I meet someone famous I always do something monumentally dickheadish. This time I leaned out the window and shouted the immortal words ;
“Hey Lou! Are you lost mate!?”
He turned around and made a beeline for the car. To be fair the car really stood out. He walked up and in a voice like an annoyed headmaster explained that of course he was lost and did we know where the ‘cum-ber-land’ hotel was?” I was like, "it’s literally just round the corner mate". He seemed a bit short sighted actually. He ambled off. It was now about 1.30 so I thanked my saviour and headed for the tube. As I crossed the 8 lanes of Marble Arch I saw Lou on the other side looking like a cartoon of a lost person looking left, right and left and right again while stood right under a giant CUMBERLAND HOTEL sign.
I just gave Lou Reed directions! Then I realised I completely lost any opportunity to make something of the moment, even if just as a person rather than a writer. Doylum.
Anyway I emerged in Kensington with a freshly bought A-Z and found the street for Reeves Gabrels. A very posh street, all red brick facades and big porches. As I approached from a distance I saw a guy playing guitar on one of the steps. It was Johnny Marr. No it really was. Again, I just turn into a northern idiot and went ;
“oh, you’re Johnny Marr. Does everyone on this street play guitar? Do you know where Reeves Gabrels lives?”
He just scowled and nodded to next door. I was beginning to go a bit funny. Anyway Reeves answered and he was really nice and he was impressed I sometimes wrote for Deadline Mag which was where Tank Girl was from and was dead cool at the time and we talked for ages, mainly about guitars really. As you’d expect.
So I started to tell him this story about meeting Lou Reed and Johnny Marr on the way but most of all what a fan I was of Bowie and how hard it was not to talk only about Bowie instead of Tin Machine and how difficult it must be trying to be ‘a band’ when it’s nothing of the sort etc etc
“Oh David’s on his way over now, you can tell him that yourself it will make him laugh cos we’re both off to see Lou Reed now at the Palladium.”
All I could think of to say was “Is Johnny going too?” and he just looked at me like I was simple.
I thought I was going to burst when Bowie turned up. I’d been waiting all my life for it. I actually felt a bit sick. Like REAL nerves. I was only young. He was smaller than you’d think, thinner and all twinkly and jolly. This was my moment. I had my chance. This was a moment some people dream of. So I said ;
“alright Dave. I’m just off the shop do you want owt?”
and he does talk like he sings, and he does sound a bit like Phil Cornwell doing an impression of him, and he said very melodiously in the voice that sang Space Oddity
“Twenny Bensons… and a packet of crisps.”
I ran all the way to the nearest shops. I found an off license and got a few tinnies as I’d promised Reeves and then went to the elderly asian lady at the counter
“twenty bensons please! they’reforDavidBowieyouknow!”
She looked at me like I was from Mars.
Running back I was dreaming that they would ask me to go along with them, I’d be re-united with Lou and we’d all roar with laughter at how funny I was and we be great mates.
Got back to the street and I couldn’t remember which house it was. They were all identical. I’d left my bag in there too. It was too posh to start knocking on doors and the were no handy indie guitar legends mooching about to give directions.
I wandered about the street feeling sick. I sat down on a step and waited. 4 hours later it was dark and no one I recognised emerged from any door. My new mates had ditched me and I still had Dave’s fags and crisps.
I woefully found my way back to Brent Cross and stuck my thumb out. Nothing stopped for hours. It was rubbish.
Eventually a small coach stopped for me that was full of people in wheelchairs who’d been taken on a day out and all their carers were pissed out of their minds. It was a fitting chariot after a really weird day. I finally got back at about 2am.
I very rarely tell this story because I have trouble believing it myself. But I hope it shows the lengths someone will go when Bowie’s name is even mentioned.
RIP Dave. I still have your fags and crisps.
That is an absolutely fantastic quote.
- Joined
- Dec 31, 2000
- Messages
- 17,098
This is shit.
David Kronenbourg
Well-Known Member
Val Kilmer wins strangest tribute so far
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- Nov 1, 2002
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- 38,438
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- 3
Just remembered this silly bit of graffiti that appeared in Phibsborough a few years ago
travispickle
Well-Known Member
I don't even know how I managed to get to work, much less what the fuck I'm doing here. Fuck. I honestly don't think it's hit me yet.
CinnamonBoy
Well-Known Member
One of the bosses in work whose office is beside where I sit saw me with a tear rolling down a cheek (and I'm not hungover or did psychedelics at the weekend) and as she needed me to help her with something, we went off upstairs to move some boxes around and chatted about Bowie and she gave me two peppermint creams from M&S to have with my coffee.
It sounds ridiculous but my favourite bits of my favourite songs feel like they're moving through my whole body from my head and creating waves of some kind of euphoric, defiant and almost overwhelming sadness.
Kathleen, our acid-tongued receptionist from Mayo, and Pat the gruff security lad from Offaly reckon I'm soft in the head altogether.
It sounds ridiculous but my favourite bits of my favourite songs feel like they're moving through my whole body from my head and creating waves of some kind of euphoric, defiant and almost overwhelming sadness.
Kathleen, our acid-tongued receptionist from Mayo, and Pat the gruff security lad from Offaly reckon I'm soft in the head altogether.
- Thread starter
- #174
The new album is really excellent, I must have listened 7 or 8 times over the weekend and again just there now on the bus. Girl Loves Me is deadly, so terse. I can't help wondering if he never got a chance to finish the lyrics and had to do a Susudio on it. Dollar Days is beautiful, the sax solo is great and I Can't Give Everything Away is a real uplifting way to finish it off.
twitter is full of people trying to convince us they're the biggest Bowie fans ever.
But you should look at Jane Wiedlin's twitter feed. Fuckin hell. Mad stuff.
In saying that, I'm really enjoying tweets from bands and proper artists talking about how he influenced them.
Sports journalists, weather people and jedward can fuck off though
Sports journalists, weather people and jedward can fuck off though
I hadn't listened to it before today (despite really liking 2 of the tracks that had come out off it), I was a bit afraid it was gonna be like the last one which I wasn't mad on. Now I'm really enjoying it but I feel really guilty about not listening to it till after he died.
The video to Lazarus is mental to watch now...
In the early 90s Bowie was rehearsing in The Factory. My mate and I were always talking about going down there to try and see him. One day from my parents house I rang the Factory asking "is David Bowie there?".
There was a few seconds there where the receptionist was going to go get him. Then she asked me who I was and what I wanted. I think I said "just wondering" and put the phone down.
There was a few seconds there where the receptionist was going to go get him. Then she asked me who I was and what I wanted. I think I said "just wondering" and put the phone down.
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