Grimlock ♥ Ultra Magnus

I bought this for a couple reason: it was on sale, along with other books in this series, for one dollar the day they were on sale.   (I passed over some, based on the fact that I didn't even have a passing interest in the bands; I regret this now, because all the books I've read in this series have been so wonderful, I kinda want them all.)   It was David Bowie, and while I'm still hoping for certain albums - Space Oddity, Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane - to be done by this series, it was something on Bowie.   I'd also been eyeing this books at the bookstore: short little love odes to specific albums.   To those unfamiliar with these books, they are incredibly small.   Not just short in page count - about a hundred and fifty pages - but so small in size that it really cuts down on word count.   They're adorable, but I didn't know much about them and was hesitant to spend a good fifteen dollars or so on something so small of, at that point in time, questionable quality. 

This sale was my chance to try them.   (I love them so much I have two books on my wishlist and may purchase them soon at full price.   Those are the ones on Nine Inch Nails' Pretty Hate Machine, because I love that album, and the one on Serge Gainsbourg's Histoire de Melody Nelson because I've heard Gainsbourg's music since I was a child around the house.)

I read this first, I believe, and I couldn't put it down: I was blown away by how much there was in so little words.   From how the record was put together, with fairly detailed technical information, to where, to a sense of the culture of the places where Bowie was recording, to his personal history and state of mind when he was recording.   Even without having heard Low, I felt like I knew Low.   The author does comment on Low, but he obviously does so from an educated perspective, and he does so very little.   His analysis always felt valid to me, if only because he so clearly knows what he's talking about, down to tracking down how Bowie could have heard a piece before the CD came out and finding out that Bowie had been to a concert before that CD came out.   It also just makes sense, as he contextualizes his analysis by describing the pieces, the lyrics, and Bowie's own personal history to show how and why this music was made.   I get the feeling of the process, and then I get a feeling for why that process was used. 

And on this reread I was afraid that my own personal grief would warp this reading, or that I remembered this with more fondness than was deserved.   Instead, I found a text that not only held up but got better when read once again.   

This was a truly beautiful and moving account, even when describing something dark, or horrendous.   The author tackles Bowie's failing marriage to his first wife, Angela, without condemning either party, and instead of sensationalizing how the marriage was imploding, it's only used in a contextual manner.   That is, Bowie was severely depressed, on so much cocaine that he was hallucinating and paranoid, and no doubt his marriage unraveling fed into much of his depressed state and paranoia.   (To be fair, the author had limited space, and Low was the main character in this book: if it didn't relate to Bowie's state of mind during Low, it wasn't included.   If it did, and could manage to do so sparsely, he did.   This was undoubtedly a complex issue, and it was treated with both respect without dwelling on the failing relationship.)

It touched upon recording Iggy Pop's The Idiot far more, although to be fair, there was a lot more that influenced Low there.   Pop claims that Bowie was the only one to visit him when he put himself into a psychiatric institution because he couldn't deal with his severe drug addiction, and that he got the sense that Bowie respected him for getting himself that help.   (Obviously.   Bowie admired his half-brother Terry, and Terry was institutionalized for schizophrenia.  Bowie also visited Terry up until the point that Terry committed suicide.)   Also, Pop, and others, have said that Bowie would help them out with their albums to try and work out issues for his own and that he most likely did this with Pop and The Idiot.   Given that Pop was broke, and both he and Bowie were trying to get off drugs together, and that Bowie had stood by him when many others have not, I got the sense that Pop wasn't too irked.  (The quote is rather neutral.)   But what this means is that a lot of time is spent with The Idiot because it directly related to Low.   Same with events leading up to Low, The Man Who Fell to Earth (and Bowie's soundtrack for that film), and the sense of both France and Berlin.   (Low was partly recorded in France, but was mostly done, and influenced, by his work with Brian Eno in Berlin.)

But more importantly to me, this all felt tied together, it was a fascinating read, and while I don't read much non-fiction because it can feel dry or boring to me, this propelled itself along so that I couldn't help but continue to read.    Low might not have a narrative, but this clearly did. 

I had so much more to say, but I find myself at a loss for words beyond those that I've used.   This is a brilliant book about a brilliant man.   I keep meaning to listen to Low in its entirety, but ironically while I adore this book, I was convinced I'd hate Low after reading this once.  The conviction has gotten stronger with a reread.   Low has no narrative, something I'm fond of even in music.   

And yet I want to try, if only to prove myself right - or perhaps even wrong.   Maybe this weekend?   Anyone want to buddy listen with me on youtube?

PS - the only thing that disappoints me about this book is that the author only has one book out: this one.  I would read anything else he wrote in a heartbeat.

PPS - apparently he's written some fiction, but it's not on his author page on Amazon?   Or it's another Hugo Wilcken?   

Either way, dammit, I kinda want some more non-fiction by him, so grumbling about it anyway.