I quickly stopped into the Bowie pop-up shop on Wooster Street in SoHo, last week, which is “celebrating 75 years of David Bowie.” No math major I, but I suppose that implies that Bowie would have been 75 had he not passed away in 2016, but subtract 75 from 2021, and that gives you 1946, while Bowie was born in in 1947, but… y’know, whatever.
In any case, if you haven’t stopped by (and if you’re curious, you can read this VOGUE piece about it), it’s basically a boutique selling all variety of Bowie ephemera, from coffee mugs, fridge magents and jigsaw puzzles to box sets, art prints and a wide array of Bowie-themed clothing. As the VOGUE piece points out, those expecting a re-hash of the David Bowie Is show will be disappointed (it’s nothing quite so immersive), but there is some archival media to be enjoyed therein, although I found it hard to concentrate on it whilst shoppers milled busily around me.
At this stage of proceedings, I’m pretty much all set on Bowie gear. I have all the crucial albums, to say nothing of several rareities compilations and live sets, most of which I revisit with some frequency. He does have an unreleased album coming out later this month, but oft-times, unreleased material swiftly reveals precisely why it was unreleased in very short order. I’m curious about it, but we’ll see. I own one lovely Bowie t-shirt, that being the man’s profile from the sleeve of Low with his name rendered in the same bold, angular font faithfully employed on every album cover by Iron Maiden, a dichotomy for rock-geek trainspotters and keen-eyed metalheads that I quite enjoy.
So despite not “needing” anything they’re hawking (altough I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a cool Diamond Dogs shirt, if I spotted one), I still felt somewhat obligated to look around. But in doing so, I was left with two icky feelings… the fist being my inner, frothy-mouthed gatekeeper bubbling to the surface (not that he’s ever far away), blanching incredulously at the sight of some sniveling Gen-Z’r trying on a t-shirt with the sleeve art from 1.Outside on it, when in all likelihood they’d absolutely never listened to the album in question (“SING ME THREE VERSES FROM ‘THE HEART’S FILTHY LESSON’!”). The second was the overall feeling that Bowie himself might not have been so gung-ho about such a brazen merchandising initiative, not least in the wake of his own untimely death. But that, of course, is pure projection. I mean, I’m used to robust displays of materialistic avarice by bands like KISS and the Rolling Stones, but don’t normally associate that with Bowie. But, clearly there’s money to be made, and I’m probably just being naïve. If you're not bothered by those notions, you should trot on down to Wooster street. It's open through January.
Speaking of Bowie, even though I just evangelized the “new 4K version” of the video the other day, here’s a cool “behind the scenes” of the making the “I’m Afraid of Americans” video with ol’ Trent and Dave on Howard Street, Orchard Street and other spots around downtown Manhattan. Enjoy…
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