Veracious Teenage Stupidity – Visions of David Bowie: 1995

IMAG3361Good lord. I’m currently heeding David Bowie’s advice on the back of the Ziggy Stardust LP….well – mostly adhering – I’m only 85% of the way towards maximum volume – but still, I’m CRANKING “Moonage Daydream” and it’s shaking the walls, making me nervous, and causing my blood to pump with veracious teenage stupidity.

Today the man who changed the world left it. Behind him is a vacuum of sorrow sucking many into a reflective remembrance. It was a sad day, but I’m making it a good night as I honor him with wine, music, & dance by-myself moves.

I moved to a very small town in Central New York my sophomore year in High School and it felt like my World had been lost. It was a tough age & time to move, I missed my friends – and I missed being exposed to new music. I went from a circle of kids debating the merits of Morrissey to a nowhere village with no MTV (big deal in 1995) – and only country, classic rock, & pop music on the radio.

In this desperate state I clung to what my friends back home were listening to – Zines I could find – and known material I hadn’t yet embraced – through mining at weird barnyard country “record stores” & yard sales, or….believe it or not, Columbia House (penny taped firmly and all). I was aware of David Bowie my whole life – but I became conscious of him when I was 16, going past the radio tracks and into his brilliant albums & b-sides. This was the most impressionable period of my adolescent and musical life – & he sowed the seeds that made my ears what they are today.

I was sold on the rock and roll daydream, and at an impressionable, and needed time – he made teenage me look far and large. Bowie’s a big deal for me, Bowie’s a big deal for most – and his passing, and HOW he passed is just as big as the life he led – what a hero – what an artist – what a man. Good Lord, gotta flip the record and heed more advice.

“Don’t fake it baby, lay the real thing on me
The church of man, love, is such a holy place to be”

Maximum Volume.

Maximum Volume, almost.

D. Hixon

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