Shadows and mirrors
My post from a few days ago, explaining why “It’s No Game” was my choice for the #1 Bowie song of the year, briefly discussed Bowie’s references to “shadows,” including in that song. I’ve been thinking about that observation over the past few days and how that is part of a much larger trend in not just Bowie’s music, but his entire artistic output. Shadows are a kind of reflection. Thought of in that respect, Bowie evoked reflections of various types from, “Shadow Man” (1971) through the video for “Lazarus” (2016) in which he appears in an outfit almost identical to what he was wearing on the back cover of Station to Station (1975).
I think Bowie returned to these themes for a variety of reasons. Later in his career, on the artistic side of the ledger, I think Bowie was trying to draw a connection between what he was working on at the time with what he had done in the past. This was another way of establishing the kind of continuity that he subtly achieved by often including a song on his latest album that harkened back to the last one, as well as another that would tease what would come next. For instance, Diamond Dogs (1974) included, on the one hand, the Glam-anthem, “Rebel Rebel,” which could have easily found a home on, say, Aladdin Sane (1973), as well as “1984” and “Rock N’ Roll With Me,” either of which would have fit nicely on Young Americans (1975) or Station to Station (1976).
Bowie might have seen everything he did as of a piece. I’ve thought for some time that the slow exit of “I Can’t Give Everything Away” from Blackstar (2016) was very deliberately ending what the slow beginning of “Space Oddity” (1969) began. Bowie’s shifting styles have been criticized as a sign that he lacked substance, so the self-referential thread might have been intended as a counterweight.
There’s also obvious commercial value in Bowie referencing himself. Fans like to pick up on both the subtle and obvious references Bowie made to himself, his music, or even something like the smiley face on the astronaut’s suit in the “Blackstar” video, which apparently was a reference to his son Duncan Jones’ movie, Moon.
Bowie used different types of reflections to convey different ideas. If the self-referentialism was meant to convey continuity and thus heft, the shadows were supposed to be lesser, soulless reflections of something. That something was not necessarily Bowie, but “shadow” means a soulless, lonely and empty reflection of something that might have previously been greater.
Bowie, who made it clear from early on that his public personae were a series of characters, created other types of reflections. He references his own name in “Teenage Wildlife” (1980) (“Well, David what shall I do”) as well as “Can’t Help Thinking About Me (1966) (“My girl calls my name ‘Hi, Dave;’ Drop in, see around, come back; If you’re this way again”). And if “Can’t Help Thinking About Me” seems a bit obscure, its worth noting that he resurrected the song for the 2001 then-unreleased album, Toy, which featured Bowie covering himself.
He seemingly encounters an unnamed version of himself in “Changes” (1971)— “I turn myself to face me,” and “Width of a Circle” (1970)— “I ran across a monster who was sleeping by a tree; And I looked and frowned and the monster was me; Well, I said hello and I said hello; And I asked ‘Why not?’ and I replied ‘I don’t know.’”
The cover of the compilation album, Nothing Has Changed (2014), actually shows Bowie looking in a mirror, and alternate covers featured images of younger Bowies looking in mirrors. The …hours (1999) cover features one version of Bowie holding a spent, or even dead earlier version of Bowie. The Next Day (2013) cover recycles the cover of Heroes (1977) but obscures the central image of Bowie’s face from the earlier album. A good portion of the video for “Thursday’s Child” (1999) features Bowie looking into a mirror and seeing a reflection isn’t always the same as the man doing the looking. A radio his character is listening to indicates that he’s listening to “David Bowie’s new single, “Thursday’s Child,” while he hums along with and over the song.
Bowie either displays earlier versions of himself or actors who appear like earlier versions of himself in several videos including, but not necessarily limited to “Underground” (1986), “Fame ‘90;” “Little Wonder” (1997); an unfinished version of “The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell” (1999); “The Stars Are Out Tonight” (2013); “Love Is Lost” (2013) and arguably “Blackstar” (2016) as well as the French commercial for a brand of bottled water called, “Vittel.” His face is projected onto puppets in “Where Are We Now” (2013) and on his own face in “Repetition” (1999). Bowie portrays two characters in “Jazin’ for Blue Jean” (1984), at least one of whom was something of a parody of Bowie (Screamin’ Lord Byron).
The “Love is Lost” (2013) video recycles several of these devices, including a mirror, puppet versions of earlier Bowies (that I think were originally intended to be used for “The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell”), the projection of Bowie’s face on a puppet as well as a musical reference to an earlier song, “Ashes to Ashes” (1980) which itself referenced “Space Oddity” (1969).
Other Bowie songs that reference earlier Bowie songs in some way include “The Buddha of Suburbia,” (1993) “Reality” (2003); Where Are We Now (2013); Scream Like a Baby (1980); “It’s No Game” (1980); John I’m Only Dancing (Again) (1975); the entire Toy project;“You’ve Been Around” (1993); and “The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell” (1999). “Hallo Spaceboy” (1995) seems to be self-referential.
A Bowie avatar appears in the video game, “Omikron: The Nomad Soul.” He seemed unusually involved with several artists who covered his songs and in so doing became alternate types of avatars— Lulu, Mott the Hoople, Iggy Pop and others. Outside of music, Bowie painted self portraits and even played himself (for instance in the movie Zoolander).
I have mentioned in several posts for for Bowie, time is the enemy. Although he used different types of reflections, they were all distorted in some way. An overarching theme is that the past is part of the present continuity, but it can’t entirely be relived. And doing so is a little melancholy. While maintaining the thread to his past and future, Bowie’s reflections are mostly sad, or lesser, or represent some form of decay from the point that the original image was captured. Its as if the image is something of the original that was left behind, because where a present version of Bowie encounters a reflection, the present version too usually is sad, lesser and incomplete.
Ashes to ashes, indeed.
It might be too much to guess that Bowie was thinking ahead and commenting on his own legacy and how he’d be experienced after his own death. That obviously was very much on his mind in making Blackstar, but his live-in-the-moment stance during the Glam period might have come with the assumption that the moment can never fully be reproduced. I recall interviews from the time, or maybe a little later, in which Bowie viewed the value of his music as fleeting. Later he seemed amused by the idea that new fans would experience his past catalogue as if it was all new. While he wasn’t about to disabuse them, his shadowy reflections seemed to grow emptier as his career moved forward, suggesting that all that was left of the old Bowie(s) were echos.