I think it's a bit of a misconception to say the majority rules, or the majority opinion is most likely to be the correct one. After all, the Ancient Chinese (and there were stacks of 'em) once believed that an eclipse of the sun was not in fact planetary bodies casting shadows or getting in the way of other planetary bodies as they made their respective orbits, but a dragon eating the sun. Despite this being the popular belief of the time, I think we can safely discount it now. And it's like that with other things. Every now and then much of the populace will like something, or give it much attention and laud, when they just shouldn't. Today I got thinking about something that has always annoyed the living snot out me. Let me state at the outset that I am a huge Bowie fan and respect him greatly as an artist. He has always been innovative, no matter what incarnation or style he presents. I personally don't take great stock with people continually reinventing themselves (case in point: Madonna. All her incarnations are just downright annoying), but Bowie was always listenable whether doing camp (like 'John, I'm Only Dancing', or 'Jean Genie'), or something more proggy like 'Life on Mars'. I actually liked 'Ashes to Ashes', even thought I thought it a tad dirge-like and sounded a little like a dripping tap in places.
And one day, when I was seventeen and an avowed Bowie fan, the unthinkable happened. Bowie released a song that made me want to weep, such was my devastation. To me, he had completely sold out. Instead of starting a trend, he was following one. To me, it seemed he was trying to be like a lot of the popular British music at that time, which leaned towards New Romantic (and sounded like three different kinds of shit in its wankiness). That song? 'Let's Dance'. I hated it. It evoked rancorous emotions that made me just want to go out and kick newborn mammals (and I am an animal lover). What the fuck was Bowie doing, I wondered. I was a Year 12 student, worrying about the upcoming HSC year, wondering would I have a date to my end of year dance (I didn't - but that doesn't matter). I had other worries like the virulent parasitic pimples that would appear on my chin near my menstrual cycle. I had family worries worthy of a different post, which I will probably save for such different post. Memories of that let-down seventeen year old girl sadden me, as does the realisation that the seventeen-year-old was twice as thin as the now forty-seven year old currently is . The New Zealand exchange student (whose musical taste I considered to be questionable) said one day to me, 'I normally don't like David Bowie, but I LOVE that new song of his!' (Note, this was a kid who constantly played the 'Thriller' album at parties, and the only part of that album that really did it for me was Eddie Van Halen's guitar solo on 'Beat It'). My best male friend, who used to sit next to me on the school bus, said, 'Come on, Simone. He's got to move with the times.' 'No, he doesn't!' I vehemently insisted. I furthered my argument by pointing out moving with the times should not happen if the times suck, and mean selling out your own originality. Everything about that song just aggravated the living snot out of me. From the banal tune to the incongruous film clip that took place against Australian landscapes, and seemed designed to paint Aussies as racist, with the Aboriginal girl scrubbing a footpath with her hair tied up in a kerchief, Mammy from 'Gone With The Wind' style.
Sigh. 'Thriller' and Bowie selling out. Two things that bugged me. I remember going to some party and 'Thriller' being bunged on, and listening to 'Billie Jean' and wondering could I maybe sneak a little Blackberry Nip and coke.
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