I guess I’ll give that new David Bowie record a spin. I read some of it was inspired by Kendrick Lamar.
That was me last week, when I read the Pitchfork review for David Bowie, someone who I know very little about, save for his larger-than-life photographs of ranging mania and eccentricity, something that can be easily assumed if I rely on his looks and his looks alone.
I do not wish to eulogize his death, for it feels improper, insubstantial. Like Lou Reed (and subsequently, his death), I feel a certain affection towards the both of them, for the simple matter that both have been touched by the same music synonymous to my being: Kanye West’s and Kendrick Lamar’s. That was the extent of it, but like life and death, I believe music is suspended in between, if not the binding element that connects the two, for I feel the tragedy of the loss of human life, as us people are wired to, but more than ever, because of this connection, no matter how negligible and far-fetched it might appear.
I used the word ‘extinguished’as a reference to his final work, but I’d like to think of it as an allusion as well. David Bowie might have passed on, but the finality of life is limited to the end of his human existence. His star, without a glimmer of a doubt, will continue to burn, and fervently so.
I’ve been listening to Blackstar, and I kept repeating Lazarus, and me doing so has actually less to do with his death, and more of the song itself.
Look up here, man, I’m in danger
I’ve got nothing left to lose
I’ve been saying this to myself lately, I’m at loss with this manner of timing.