Aside from being a palindrome and therefore cool as hell, 2002 will always be known as THE YEAR THAT I SHOOK THE HAND OF AND TALKED FOR TWENTY-SEVEN SECONDS TO DAVID FUCKING BOWIE. When you connect with the record company folks as a lowly record store employee, you end up meeting a lot of artists backstage who most likely don't give a fuck about you. Oh, you hope they do, but it's more than likely that it's just part of the job, pressing flesh and smiling wide while thinking of all the hand washing to be done right after the meet-and-greet is finished.
And while I've met my fair share of artists whose music I loved (Jeff Buckley, John Fogerty, Fiona Apple, Dave Gahan, the guys in Love And Rockets and The Tragically Hip and Adult. and The Tea Party, Kenna, Kristin Hersh, Pharrell Williams...who will help me pick up all the names I just dropped?), it's a bit different with Bowie. Outside of David Letterman, there is no other person who has helped shape my idea of artistic possibility and subjective reality. And when you have the opportunity to meet such an influential figure in your life, it's almost better to punt instead of coming off like a right cunt.
But I didn't. Instead, I stood in the cattle call line in the August night, waiting for my upcoming momentary brush with The Man, watching the people ahead of me break down into tears while I held my shit together quite well. And as the moment came and the admonitions flowed from the event staff (NO PICTURES! NO SIGNING SHIT! NO HUGGING!), I felt calm and happy. Of course, he was smaller than I thought, and the handshake and smiles between us shot through time like a thunderbolt, and you always always always want more, even though decades of exclusivity would never be enough. But it was more than most people get, and I'll be eternally grateful to have shared a moment in time with one of my musical and cultural idols, a transformative figure for different generations.
And I got a Slurpee after the show, which was nice. A nice varied lot, the shows of 2002, which included:
The Faint / Adult. [El Rey Theatre, Los Angeles, CA 2.28]
The Faint / Adult. [Glass House, Pomona, CA 3.1]
The White Stripes / Whirlwind Heat [University Ballroom, East Lansing 4.14]
The White Stripes / The Detroit Cobras [Royal Oak Music Theatre 5.22]
N*E*R*D* / Kelis [St. Andrew’s Hall 6.6]
David Bowie [Roseland Ballroom, NYC 6.11]
Trans Am / Adult. [St. Andrew’s Hall 6.13]
The Vines [Shelter 7.14]
Area2 Festival (David Bowie, Moby, etc.) [DTE Energy Music Theater 8.6]
Clinic [St. Andrew’s Hall 10.14]
Underworld [Clutch Cargo’s 10.15]
Porcupine Tree [Magic Stick 11.16]
As the DJ's used to say, all killer no filler. The laser light show and pulsing electronics of Underworld, the post-9/11 NYC Bowie experience of Heathen and Low back to back, watching The White Stripes before and after the "Fell In Love With A Girl" whirlwind, the flight to L.A. just to see The Faint explode through their early work, and more. (Hell, I walked past Jack White in the University Ballroom bathroom; following dude decorum, we didn't do much in the way of eye contact.) And although there were more shows on the horizon, including what will most likely be the last two Bowie shows I will ever see, it's hard to beat a sliver of space with the Thin White Duke.
And while I've met my fair share of artists whose music I loved (Jeff Buckley, John Fogerty, Fiona Apple, Dave Gahan, the guys in Love And Rockets and The Tragically Hip and Adult. and The Tea Party, Kenna, Kristin Hersh, Pharrell Williams...who will help me pick up all the names I just dropped?), it's a bit different with Bowie. Outside of David Letterman, there is no other person who has helped shape my idea of artistic possibility and subjective reality. And when you have the opportunity to meet such an influential figure in your life, it's almost better to punt instead of coming off like a right cunt.
But I didn't. Instead, I stood in the cattle call line in the August night, waiting for my upcoming momentary brush with The Man, watching the people ahead of me break down into tears while I held my shit together quite well. And as the moment came and the admonitions flowed from the event staff (NO PICTURES! NO SIGNING SHIT! NO HUGGING!), I felt calm and happy. Of course, he was smaller than I thought, and the handshake and smiles between us shot through time like a thunderbolt, and you always always always want more, even though decades of exclusivity would never be enough. But it was more than most people get, and I'll be eternally grateful to have shared a moment in time with one of my musical and cultural idols, a transformative figure for different generations.
And I got a Slurpee after the show, which was nice. A nice varied lot, the shows of 2002, which included:
The Faint / Adult. [El Rey Theatre, Los Angeles, CA 2.28]
The Faint / Adult. [Glass House, Pomona, CA 3.1]
The White Stripes / Whirlwind Heat [University Ballroom, East Lansing 4.14]
The White Stripes / The Detroit Cobras [Royal Oak Music Theatre 5.22]
N*E*R*D* / Kelis [St. Andrew’s Hall 6.6]
David Bowie [Roseland Ballroom, NYC 6.11]
Trans Am / Adult. [St. Andrew’s Hall 6.13]
The Vines [Shelter 7.14]
Area2 Festival (David Bowie, Moby, etc.) [DTE Energy Music Theater 8.6]
Clinic [St. Andrew’s Hall 10.14]
Underworld [Clutch Cargo’s 10.15]
Porcupine Tree [Magic Stick 11.16]
As the DJ's used to say, all killer no filler. The laser light show and pulsing electronics of Underworld, the post-9/11 NYC Bowie experience of Heathen and Low back to back, watching The White Stripes before and after the "Fell In Love With A Girl" whirlwind, the flight to L.A. just to see The Faint explode through their early work, and more. (Hell, I walked past Jack White in the University Ballroom bathroom; following dude decorum, we didn't do much in the way of eye contact.) And although there were more shows on the horizon, including what will most likely be the last two Bowie shows I will ever see, it's hard to beat a sliver of space with the Thin White Duke.
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