I had never really been a Bowie fan growing up, since his music didn't fall into any of the categories I was pursuing. It wasn't until I went to Germany while in the service that I realized just how brilliant he was.
I had a roommate that didn't quite fit into the G.I. mold back then, and one of his favorite pastimes was to read two books at the same time, one in each hand, all while listening to either Young, Zappa, or Bowie. I had no choice in the matter as to whether or not I got to choose the music we would be listening to for the evening since it was his stereo, so I'd sit with my guitar and try to play along with whatever was on, unplugged of course since I didn't want to disrupt the 'sessions'. I found that I could follow a lot of Young, and Zappa was way over my skill level (I'd come to have an understanding about him later on in life), but when it came to Bowie, things started to sink in. I found myself starting to understand (or at least wanting to for that matter) the lyrics and meaning behind these masterpieces. In particular, the album "Low" was continually on rotation, and the soundscape that emanated from my roommates stereo crept into my consciousness very slowly, and very deliberately as Bowie crooned. After about a dozen or so listens, it was me that started suggesting that we put on some Bowie for the nights listening sessions, to which he'd smile and say "He's sinking in, huh?". Bowie was certainly a distinct personality, and he showed me how a person could stretch any idea into a musically driven theatrical masterpiece. I can only think of a few people with as much charisma, talent, showmanship, and something that the entertainment world could never have too much of... class.
R.I.P. Mr. B.
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