This Friday (February 16), Celebrating David Bowie rolls into the area for an exclusive performance at The Chevalier Theatre in Medford, and the trail of spider glitter can be seen from here to Mars. The tour features members of Bowie's bands over the years, led by pianist and longtime collaborator Mike Garson, Earl Slick, Gerry Leonard, and Carmine Rojas, who combined have more than 30 years experience recording, writing, and playing live with the late music, pop culture, and life icon.
Celebrating David Bowie brings together a rotating cast of vocalists and multi-instrumentalists, all with one common tie: Honoring the man they knew on stage and off. It's about the music, and what it meant to people.
"There’s never going to be another David,” Garson recently The NME. “I appreciated David for all of the years that I worked with him, but not like I do now... You can’t compare anyone to David, but you just need to keep rotating and finding great singers to do the best they can. Every once in while, you do... I’m learning as master of ceremonies how to conduct these things.”
With that in mind, and since it's Valentine's Day week (heh), we've pulled together a few Vanyaland voices for our picks citing Bowie's sexiest songs. It might be the most daunting task we've ever approached. We're certain every person reading this has their own list, likely with little crossover, and that's what made Bowie so special; an artist so personal, yet shared by so many. Feel free to @ us, to admonish us, or peacefully supply your own; what's sexy to one might not be sexy to another, and vice versa. How you celebrate David Bowie is solely up to you.
With apologies to our more seasoned nightlife professionals, “Queen Bitch” might be the sexiest 47-year-old to sweep across the city’s dancefloors. The devilish track off 1971’s Hunky Dory is a riff-roaring thunder tumble of erotic excess and stylish cool, a glam rock template that would set the tone for the year ahead, combining the sexual liberation of the ’60s with the following decade’s gaudy ambitions. Mick Ronson’s thrashing guitar work is the stuff of masturbation, and Lou Reed’s influence permeates. This voyeur’s view from afar just makes you want to fall into the bedsheets, despite that frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat: “Yes, she’s leading him on, and she’ll lay him right down/But it could have been me, yes, it could have been me.” No one can do better than this. — Michael Marotta