as much as i was never one for falling into line,i can’t help but doff my hat along with everyone else to david bowie on his 65th birthday.
y’know the first time i saw him on telly i didn’t quite catch his name,
but the next day i was brooding around my northern irish seaside hometown…wondering who that beautiful freak was,and did anyone know anything about him.
a more potent bowie memory was one year later when my father retired from the royal air force..
we left that gorgeous rock n roll seaside where i was raised , for a farming town slightly inland where my father bought a pub.
my bedroom was on the top floor overlooking the town square.
in the summer ian paisley would visit and preach his heavy metal from the back of a truck outside the northern bank…
it was strangely similar to how elvis presley presented his earliest outdoor performances, using a loading truck as a stage to perform from.
the locals would gather round and listen , but i had a birdseye view,three floors up,and 25 yards away from my bedroom.
i sat there huddled up on the window ledge watching the preacherman in glorious solitude…
i couldn’t hear a word ian paisley was saying,cause i had my little record player fired up listening to david bowie records.
for me that’s quite a juxtaposition…the vision of ian paisley ,and the sound of david bowie…
it was 1973..aladdin sane was fresh off the press.i felt defined in that moment..i found clarity in what i was buying into,and even more importantly…in what i wasn’t buying into.