I can't quite remember hearing David Bowie for the first time.

He was just always there when albums started accumulating in my room as a youngster.

But I remember seeing him in person for the first time - the besuited blond tanned Bowie of the 1983 Serious Moonlight tour.

He shone like a golden god from the stage of dusty old Western Springs.


He was rock'n'roll charisma personified. It was love at first sight.

But here's the thing about Bowie. He could play stadiums but remain an enigma, someone who never outlived our fascination with him.

I admit I haven't always remained a besotted fan. His 1980s and some of his 1990s albums saw to that. But having heard the early tracks from the new Blackstar I bought it when it released last Friday. By the sounds of it, even as he faced the end, Bowie was still thrilled by the possibilities of his music.

Farewell then, Thin White Duke.

Farewell the Golden God of Western Springs.

David Bowie dies age 69

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