Before we get into it, I have a confession to make.
I am undertaking to review one David Bowie studio album per month until I get through all twenty-six of them. Obviously this will exclude a ton of other material. I might include that in between album reviews, if I am so moved, or I might tackle it after the albums, but we’ll see.
A friend of mine introduced me to Bowie back in 2009. It was a dark time for me back then and I didn’t feel I had much of anything to live for. I’m not going to say that Hunky Dory became my reason to live, but— close enough. As Bowie himself said of the first time he heard Little Richard, the first time I listened to Hunky Dory all the way through, I felt like I had heard God. I felt like Dorothy stepping into Oz– Bowie’s music was important to me in Technicolor when the rest of the world was a nihilistic sepia. It was the most wonderful thing I had ever heard. At a time when I was completely numb from booze and drugs, Bowie made me weep and smile again. Anything that can touch an addict active in their addiction that deeply– that’s some powerful shit. Thus began a passionate, abiding, probably lifelong obsession with Bowie’s music.