Nothing, more. (More thought’s on Bowie’s use of the word, “nothing.”

I’ve been writing about Bowie’s use of the word, “nothing,” in his lyrics. It is a word that appears so often that what I’m writing about is whether by, “nothing,” Bowie meant something. If you missed the first part, click HERE.

I’ve observed that, while sometimes Bowie just uses the word because its unavoidable and sometimes he’s engaged in a type of wordplay, he has also used it to suggest that all that matters is the here and now, that there is no higher meaning in life, afterlife, or divinely-inspired moral framework to the universe. I have also observed that he sometimes uses the word to evoke paradox, which I’m going to return to today. But before I do that, I should add two important caveats.

The first caveat is that, when I wrote about what “Bowie” meant or thought or believed, I do not mean to suggest that I have any insight into what the actual human being personally meant or thought or believed. “David Bowie” was kind of a meta-character, and I’m only taking meaning from the words of his songs, which are not necessarily expressions of the man’s inner thoughts. Second, I should note that, by “here and now,” I mean this life, as opposed to an afterlife, and not necessarily this exact moment. Some of Bowie’s early lyrics portray personalities living in the precise moment without an eye toward the future (think about all the people going about their business in “Five Years”). But by his mid-20s he began acknowledging that actions had consequences. But the consequences are realized during life, not after life. If “Space Oddity” (1969) can be interpreted as a drug song, in the sense that Major Tom escapes the crushing mundanity of daily life by taking drugs rather than literally going into space, he is revealed to have become a junkie “strung out in heaven’s high” by the time of the sequel song, “Ashes to Ashes” in 1980.

Of course, there’s the word, “heaven,” which also makes frequent appearances in Bowie’s songs. All kinds of religious words do. And some songs, such as “Word on a Wing” (1975), “Loving the Alien” (1984) and “Bus Stop” (1989) seem to be genuinely spiritual meditations. But when Bowie addresses religious issues in his songs, he is usually either struggling (“Lord, I kneel and offer you my word on a wing; And I’m trying hard to fit among your scheme of things”) or critiquing religious institutions (see, for instance, “The Next Day” (2013) which paints a jaundiced picture of priests).

Bowie had some kind of interest in Buddhism. I am wary of either trying to characterize Buddhist concepts that I am only passingly familiar with, or, again, trying to disentangle the message of Bowie’s songs from what the human being behind them actually thought. That said, Buddhist concepts pop up in some of Bowie’s songs, especially some of his early songs like “Karma Man” (1967) and “Quicksand” (1971) (“If I don’t explain what you ought to know; you can tell me all about it on the next Bardo”). Bowie’s use of “nothing” to evoke paradox might in part have been his version of a kind of koan, a Buddhist-style paradox or non sequitur (such as the sound of one hand clapping) meant to inspire contemplation.

Some koans apparently involve the concept of “nothing.” A well-known Zen koan goes like this: A monk asked a priest, “Does a dog have buddha nature, or not?” The priest replied, “Mu!” “Mu,” means “nothingness.” Understanding this concept apparently lies at the heart of Buddhism. (Although I might have that wrong– the heart of Buddhism might not be understanding the koan, but simply contemplating it).

Bowie kicked off Heathen (2002)— an album that has a title with religious resonance— with “Sunday,” which uses “nothing” in this way. The opening line is, “nothing remains,” which itself is not paradoxical, but in short order Bowie sings, “For in truth, it’s the beginning of nothing; And nothing has changed, everything has changed.” Bowie would go on to use the phrase, “Nothing has Changed” (2014) for the title of one of the final compilation albums released during his lifetime. Bowie is doing more with “nothing” than simply proposing a paradox, but that’s what he’s doing by equating “nothing” with “everything.”

Aside from the paradox, Bowie uses the term “nothing” to paint a picture of a ravaged land– “nothing remains.” Little of what was remains. The lyrics go on to describe what seems like a post-apocalyptic hellscape. The events of the song seem to take place after some sort of calamity — “the beginning of nothing”– like civilization, its rules and its order have come to an end– everything has changed– and a new more elemental age has begun. An age of “nothing.” It’s worth noting “Sunday” also contains religious imagery, with the narrator lamenting to the lord that all his trials will be remembered. In what could be a description of Bowie himself discarding old persona and replacing them, he sings, “In your fear of what we have become; Take to the fire; Now we must burn all that we are; Rise together Through these clouds as on wings.” Bowie is clearly being metaphorical– “as on wings” — as if on wings. The words describe Bowie’s eternal, cyclical process of death and renewal, echoed throughout his shifting styles and some of his lyrics, right up through “Blackstar” (2016)– “Something happened on the day he died; Spirit rose a meter and stepped aside; Somebody else took his place.” This sequence parallels the burn/rise sequence of “Sunday” and, for that matter the cover of “Hours… (1999)” which features the image of the new Bowie holding a dead, or exhausted prior version of himself, or many other ways in which he did not simply evolve but would reject his own, immediate identity and replace it with something else.

But, the death-rebirth cycle comes to an end for Bowie with the album, Blackstar. As I previously wrote, Bowie brings back “nothing” in “dollar Days” on that album– “If I never see the English evergreens I’m running to; It’s nothing to me; It’s nothing to see.” He himself was going through his life trying to be ever-green. That was the purpose of his death/rebirth sequence, but now, at the end there is no actual rebirth in a supernatural or spiritual sense. Bowie won’t be around to care, even if, as implied by “Sunday,” all his trials will be remembered. The next line, in “Blackstar,” after “somebody else took his place” is, “and bravely cried, ‘I’m a black star.'” Black star– black hole. Void. Nothingness. Bowie iterates different types of stars he is not in the song, “I’m not a film star…I’m not a pop star” and so on. I have read that Bowie hoped to live long enough to make one more album, but death was clearly on his mind. It is tough not to hear “Blackstar” as a message from beyond the grave. But Bowie didn’t think there would be a Bowie to deliver the message after he died, so he left the song.

All of which might come off to the casual listener as depressing. The message of Bowie is that there is no answer to the question, “why?” Existence is without meaning. But Bowie didn’t fear the void. Space is a place of retreat and comfort for Bowie, but, going all the way back to Major Tom, going there prematurely is a waste of time. Life is what we make of it. It’s an awesome responsibility. And that’s scary. But it ain’t nothing!