Song of the Day: David Bowie, "Always Crashing in the Same Car"
I've already written a lot about David Bowie, but even though I spent 48 straight hours constructing his tribute for Entertainment Weekly not too long ago, I never got tired of it. (In the past, I almost always end up hating the people for whom I've written obits, though to be fair I didn't like some of those people even before they died.)
But I somehow ended up having a dream about Bowie last night (the timing of my subconscious has never been great—this post would have been a stronger SEO entry a few weeks ago). It was as straightforward as it gets: He was walking very rapidly, and I was chasing after him in a journalistic capacity, simultaneously trying to compliment him for his vocal performance on the last song on his final album while also asking him about the "Berlin Trilogy." He didn't answer any of my questions but didn't seem all that perturbed by him, and as he sped off into the shadows, he flashed me a sly grin. Then he vanished, and I was impressed that even in death—even in the caverns of my brain—Bowie still kept a few steps ahead.
I love the three albums he made with Brian Eno in Berlin: 1977's Low and "Heroes" and 1979's Lodger. They're weird and interesting and I learn something new every time I spin any one of them. Low remains my favorite, and "Always Crashing in the Same Car" is not only a haunting tune but also a fantastic image that I have always associated with George Orwell's vision of a boot stamping on a human face forever. It's about inevitability and fate and the cycles we trap ourselves in, and it's lovely and strange. I'll never get tired of Bowie, and his discography provides that I never will.