Better than pulling down my pants and showing off the lightning bolt I got nearly 20 years ago on my left hip, I suppose. It graces the exhibition's orange catalog cover, too. Props go to Pierre La Roche, Bowie's make-up artist.
I snapped a few forbidden photos of the sold-out exhibit, but nothing can catch the frisson of reading the handwritten lyrics for several of his greatest songs.
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare.
Lindsay Kemp influenced Bowie long before he became famous. I caught his production of "Flowers, a Pantomime for Jean Genet," in London in 1975.
Bowie's incredible outfits deserve the attention they get here. He wore this one on Saturday Night Live in 1979 when Klaus Nomi and Joey Arias carried him on stage to perform "The Man Who Sold The World." You kids probably think that's a Nirvana song. Full disclosure: I like Kurt's unplugged version better, too. AND it introduced Bowie to a new generation.
A joyful television performance accompanies his Starman costume. His musical rapport with Mick Ronson, the man behind the greatest guitar solo of all time, is incredible, gay baiting aside.
How high were the Thin White Duke's platform heels? At least as high as Bowie during his Berlin years! There's even a photo of his coke spoon. No doubt it helped keep the weight off.
Can you believe Aladdin Sane had a 26 1/2" waist?
An enormous, darkened gallery features concert performances of songs like "Rock 'n Roll Suicide," "Rebel, Rebel" and "Heroes."
I saw Bowie perform live twice, on the "Diamond Dogs" tour in 1974, the summer before my senior year at Columbia, and on the "Reality" tour shortly after my 50th birthday in 2003 (thanks, Jerry!). He's given me a lifetime of pleasure. Hunky Dory, Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane remain three of my all-time favorite recordings, the trifecta of perfect albums. And side one of Diamond Dogs is pretty damn fine, too.
It's wonderful to see how influential pop music's most indelible shape-shifter has become in the years since Tom and I became part of his early American audience. Check out this "Periodic Table of Bowie." It closes a truly fabulous retrospective of his unparalleled career.
May He rest in peace.
Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth
You pull on your finger, then another finger, then cigarette
The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget
Oh, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide
You're too old to lose it, too young to choose it
And the clock waits so patiently on your song
You walk past a cafe, but you don't eat when you've lived too long
Oh, no, no, no, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide
Chev brakes are snarling as you stumble across the road
But the day breaks instead, so you hurry home
Don't let the sun blast your shadow
Don't let the milk float ride your mind
You're so natural, religiously unkind
Oh no, love, you're not alone
You're watching yourself, but you're too unfair
You got your head all tangled up, but if I could only make you care
Oh no, love, you're not alone
No matter what or who you've been
No matter when or where you've seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain
You're not alone
Just turn on with me, and you're not alone
Let's turn on and be not alone
Gimme your hands, 'cause you're wonderful
Gimme your hands, 'cause you're wonderful
Oh, gimme your hands
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