Click and collect: A brief personal look at Bowie obsession and completism

The great thing about having your own blog is that you can write what you want when you want without any outside interference or editorial control. I’m in total charge. The last article I published on my blog was about David Bowie and so is this one. The main reason I’ve come back to Bowie is that since Christmas I have been playing nothing but Bowie (or Bowie-related albums) on repeat for hours a day. Thankfully, there are so many albums that I’ve not played any of his studio albums more than three or four times in this latest Bowie-obsessed period in my life.

There are also so many compilations that I have been playing although there are three or four that are played significantly more than most. The first is my all-time favourite Bowie LP, All Saints, a collection of his career-spanning instrumentals. The songs are heavily biased to the wordless masterpieces on his Low and “Heroes” albums (as well as the underrated but brilliant Buddha of Suburbia album) but it’s the perfect album to play in bed with my headphones on. Similarly, another album that I love playing is Christiane F. which is nominally the soundtrack to the German film of the same name (in which Bowie appears briefly as himself in a concert scene). It only features songs from Bowie’s ‘Berlin Trilogy’ period (i.e., Low, “Heroes” and Lodger) and its predecessor Station to Station. I simply love the songs in this period of Bowie’s career (i.e., 1976-1979).

Another compilation that I have played a lot is the second disc in the 2-CD greatest hits collection Legacy, released shortly after Bowie’s death. Yes, it was a cash-in, but I still love it. This is because it features the many gems from his later catalogue all in one place – the singles that appeared on his last four studio LPs (Heathen, Reality, The Next Day, and Blackstar). The final compilation I have been playing a lot is the third disc from the triple-CD The Platinum Collection which covers Bowie’s most maligned years (1980-1987). My least favourite Bowie albums are Tonight, Let’s Dance, and Never Let Me Down (although I do like the newly re-recorded version in the latest Loving The Alien boxset) but the singles released during this period are generally great including many standalone singles not on any of these albums (and primarily written and recorded for film soundtracks) such as This Is Not America, When The Wind Blows, Cat People (Putting Out Fire), Underground, Absolute Beginners, and The Alabama Song. These singles along with good songs on mediocre records (Let’s Dance, Modern Love, China Girl, Blue Jean, Loving The Alien, Time Will Crawl, etc.).

The reason that I actually decided to write this particular blog was to once again give my readers some insight into the mind of an obsessive ‘completist’. I did this in two previous blogs (here and here) but this one goes a little wider in scope because it goes beyond Bowie’s recorded outputs. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have every single album that Bowie has ever released (including every studio LP, every live LP, and every compilation across all stages of Bowie’s 50-year career). I also have dozens and dozens of Bowie bootlegs (mostly unreleased concerts but also various CDs that include outtakes and demos that any serious Bowie collector has in their possession). In addition, I also collect Bowie music DVDs (e.g., documentaries, recorded concerts, promo videos, etc.). I also have hundreds of books and Bowie magazine specials (yes I’m a hoarder).

However, this Christmas I made the decision that I am now going to collect all the films in which Bowie has acted in on DVD. This is easier said than done because I have to devise inclusion and exclusion criteria as to where I will draw a line as to what to buy. Thankfully, being a Bowie-obsessive I already had a lot of his non-musical acting appearances in my DVD collection already. For instance, I have many different versions of his best film (The Man Who Fell To Earth, 1976) on DVD including the 4-disc 40^th Anniversary Collector’s Edition. I also have DVDs of other films in my collection that I like but which I bought because I liked the film rather than bought it because Bowie starred in it (i.e., Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence [1983], The Hunger [1983], Basquiat [1996], The Prestige [2006]). I also have DVD films that I bought for my children (when they were younger) but did so because Bowie was in it (Labyrinth [1986], The Snowman [1982]). Also, back in 2016, I treated myself to a boxset of films and television programmes (Dissent and Disruption)  directed by Alan Clarke. One of the reasons I bought it (but not the only reason) was that it featured Bowie’s lead role performance in the BBC drama Baal. I also got a Bowie film boxset from my partner for Christmas that featured three Bowie films that weren’t in my collection already (i.e., Absolute Beginners [1986], Just A Gigolo [1978], and Into The Night [1985]). The other notable acting performance by Bowie that I already had in DVD was his brilliant cameo appearance in Ricky Gervais’ comedy Extras (2006).

So what to buy next? I know I’m going to end up buying films that I will watch but won’t particularly or necessarily enjoy (unfortunately one of the real downsides of being an obsessive completist but something that we completists take in our stride). One of my rules is that I will only buy the DVDs if I can get them cheaply (i.e., under £10 and preferably less). So in the past week or so I have ordered the following films via Amazon (all pre-owned): The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), Gunfighters Revenge (1998; aka Gunslingers Revenge), Everyone Love’s Sunshine (1999; aka B.U.S.T.E.D.), The Linguini Incident (1991), August (2008; aka Landshark), and Mr. Rice’s Secret (2000). I got all of these really inexpensively from the cheapest at £1.24 to £7.91. I also picked up the complete TV boxset of Series 2 of The Hunger (1999-2000) which features one episode with Bowie in it as well as other episodes of him as narrator (£3.49).

So what remains to buy? Surprisingly, one film I should have in my collection is the film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992) but I don’t (as yet). I say “should” because I am a Twin Peaks fan (I love David Lynch films) and already have the Twin Peaks (Definitive Gold Box Edition) but have yet to get the associated film starring Bowie. I’m just waiting to try and get a cheap copy. No-brainer. After that it gets a bit more difficult as to what I should buy to complete my collection. Do I buy those films or TV programmes in which Bowie has voiced a character rather than actually acted in? The two cases in question are his appearance in an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants (2007; he voiced the character Lord Royal Highness) and the film Arthur and the Invisibles (2007; he voiced the character Emperor Maltazard). I then have to decide if I want to buy films that Bowie had uncredited and/or ‘blink and you’ll miss him’ appearances (the most obvious examples are Bowie’s appearances in The Virgin Soldiers [1969] and Yellowbeard [1983]). There are also a few films where Bowie has cameo appearances as himself (most notably Zoolander [2001] and Bandslam [2009]).

So there you have it. More insight into the mind of an obsessive Bowie completist. Individuals like myself are a dream for those that sell Bowie merchandise. We buy things without worrying about the quality. It’s almost an inner compulsion to do so. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a completist but like any serious collector, there is nothing better than knowing you have the complete collection of whatever is collectable.

Dr. Mark Griffiths, Distinguished Professor of Behavioural Addiction, International Gaming Research Unit, Nottingham Trent University, Nottingham, UK

Further reading

Buckley, D. (2005). Strange Fascination: David Bowie – The Definitive Story. London: Virgin Books.

Cann, K. (2010). Any Day Now: David Bowie The London Years (1947-1974). Adelita.

Goddard, S. (2015). Ziggyology. London: Ebury Press.

Hewitt, P. (2013). David Bowie Album By Album. London: Carlton Books Ltd.

Jones, D. (2017). David Bowie: A Life. New York: Penguin Random House

Leigh, W. (2014). Bowie: The Biography. London: Gallery.

Pegg, N. (2016). The Complete David Bowie (Revised and Updated 2016 Edition). London: Titan Books.

Seabrook, T.J. (2008). Bowie In Berlin: A New Career In A New Town. London: Jawbone.

Spitz, M. (2009). Bowie: A Biography. Crown Archetype.

Trynka, P. (2011). Starman: David Bowie – The Definitive Biography. London: Little Brown & Company.

Occult figure: David Bowie and living life at the extremes

Since David Bowie’s death earlier this year, I’ve already written two articles on the psychology of Bowie (which you can read here and here) but this article takes a look at the more extreme aspects of Bowie’s life (excluding his various addictions which I briefly examined in my previous pieces). As a long-time David Bowie fan I’ve been meaning to write this particular blog for a long time but just never got around to it. I had made lots of notes taken from various Bowie biographies (see ‘Further reading’ below) but Dr. Dean Ballinger (University of Waikato) recently beat me to the punch by publishing a similar article to the one I had planned in the March 2016 issue of the Fortean Times.

During Bowie’s five decades in music he has been interviewed on almost every conceivable topic but it’s always the interviews about his most extreme and esoteric subjects that have caught my eye whether it concerned his religious and spiritual beliefs, his political views, or his moral philosophy. I’ve always looked for hidden meanings in his lyrics and taken the view that his lyrics provide an insight into his personality as much as anything else that I have seen or read about him in the print and broadcast media. Like most other hardcore Bowie fans, I have been poring over the lyrics of his final studio album Blackstar now knowing that he wrote and recorded it while suffering from an aggressive form of cancer. The album is arguably his most cryptic and mysterious since the classics of the mid- to late-1970s (Station To Station, Low and “Heroes”) – although I also love 1.Outside and Heathen both lyrically and musically.

Looking back, it was probably the Station To Station title track that really made me wonder what was going on in Bowie’s head. Although Bowie says he was “out of his gourd” on cocaine at the time (and has little recollection of recording the album), the lyrics (as a teenager) made no sense to me at all (“Here are we/One magical movement/From Kether to Malkuth/There are you/You drive like a demon/From station to station”). I had no idea that Kether (“the crown” – divine will or pure light) and Malkuth (“the kingship” – the nurturing receptacle of the light) originated from Kabbalah (an esoteric school of thought rooted in Judaism) representing two of 10 sephirots (sometimes spelled ‘sefirots’ and meaning ’emanations’ or ‘attributes’) in the Tree of Life.

During his cocaine-fuelled days, Bowie rarely slept and filled his time reading books. Not only books about Kabbalah but also books on the occult (a number of books by Aleister Crowley; Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier’s The Morning of the Magicians; Israel Regardie’s books on the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn), on the symbolic obsessions of Nazism (most notably Trevor Ravenscroft’s The Spear of Destiny), and defensive magic and tarot cards (Dion Fortune’s Psychic Self-Defense) as well as more general books on the secret history of Christianity, UFOs, political conspiracies, and numerology. It’s also worth noting that Bowie’s 1976 persona (‘The thin white duke’ in his ‘Station To Station’ lyric) is almost certainly taken from Crowley’s erotic poetry (“The return of the thin white duke making sure white stains” from the 1898 book White Stains).

It’s been claimed by Chris O’Leary (author of the excellent Rebel Rebel and founder of the Pushing Ahead of The Dame website) that “Bowie’s immersion in Kabbalah was part of an overarching spiritual quest that took him from Tibetan Buddhism (he almost joined a monastery in the late 1960s, until his teacher told him that he’d make a better musician than monk) to Christian mysticism, occult worship and a flirtation with neo-Nazi imagery that nearly derailed his career when it was discovered that he collected Nazi memorabilia”. I hadn’t realised that Bowie had made reference to the occult in earlier songs such as ‘Quicksand’ (The Order of the Golden Dawn – a late 19th/early 20th century organisation devoted to the practice of occult, metaphysical, and paranormal phenomena, and the root of more traditional modern day occult practices such as Thelema and Wicca) as well as Tibetan Buddhism (more specifically his use of the word ‘Bardo’ in the song – the state of existence intermediate between two lives on earth).

Bowie’s interest in Buddhism and Tibet dates back to the 1960s as evidenced by songs such as ‘Silly Boy Blue’ (first demoed in 1965). In an interview by Bowie with the Melody Maker (24 February, 1966) notes:

“I want to go to Tibet. It’s a fascinating place, y’know. I’d like to take a holiday and have a look inside the monasteries. The Tibetan monks, Lamas, bury themselves inside mountains for weeks, and only eat every three days. They’re ridiculous—and it’s said they live for centuries…As far as I’m concerned the whole idea of Western life – that’s the life we live now – is wrong. These are hard convictions to put into songs, though”.

Chris O’Leary also noted that:

“Bowie’s interest in Tibetan Buddhism wasn’t a sudden trendy affectation—he had begun exploring the religion when he was in his mid-teens, first inspired by reading Heinrich Harrer’s 1952 book Seven Years in Tibet, and he eventually met and befriended the Tibetan lama Chimi Youngdong Rimpoche, who was exiled in London. Bowie even fantasized about becoming a Buddhist monk – cropping his hair and dyeing it black, wearing saffron robes and even changing his skin color (he’d have to settle for becoming Ziggy). Buddhism was an early influence in his songs: he had meant for the backing chorus of his single ‘Baby Loves That Way’ to sound like chanting monks.”

Bowie didn’t appear to have strong religious beliefs. In an interview in 1997 he noted that there was an “abiding need in me to vacillate between atheism or a kind of Gnosticism…what I need is to find a balance, spiritually, with 
the way I live and my demise” but in relation to thoughts on his own mortality he said “I believe in a continuation, kind of a dream-state without the dreams. Oh, I don’t know. I’ll come back and tell you”. In addition to his spiritual leanings, Dr. Ballinger in his 2016 Fortean Times article goes as far to say that occult and paranormal themes constituted an “integral dimension” of Bowie’s career. Bowie clearly had an interest in aliens, science fiction, and the paranormal as reflected in many of his singles dating back to ‘Space Oddity’ (1969) through to ‘Loving The Alien’ (1985) and ‘Hallo Spaceboy’ (1996) (as well as many album tracks and his acting breakthrough as an alien in Nic Roeg’s film The Man Who Fell To Earth). Dr. Ballinger also argued that:

“Bowie was also reading upon esoteric subjects and alternative ideas in a relatively in-depth way beyond fashionable name dropping is made clear by the songs 
on his fourth album, Hunky Dory (1971).
 The jaunty pop of ‘Oh You Pretty Things!’ is belied by lyrics that evoke a rather sinister picture of spiritual evolution, in which the listener is asked to ‘make way’ for ‘the coming race’ of ‘homo superior’ Nietszchean super children…The ‘coming race’ is also a probable nod to the Bulwer-Lytton novel of the same name that became a staple of the ‘Vril’ mythos associated with occult-minded Nazis, a subject that would have a rather negative influence on Bowie in the near future. More overt is the ballad ‘Quicksand’, in which Bowie expounds a New Age manifesto – ‘I’m not a prophet or a Stone Age man/Just a mortal with potential of a superman’ – with reference to the Western magical tradition (‘I’m closer to the Golden Dawn/Immersed in Crowley’s uniform/of imagery), [and] The Tibetan Book of the Dead (‘You can tell me all about it on the next Bardo’)”.

Bowie wasn’t the first musician to use The Tibetan Book of the Dead as inspiration for lyrics. More famously, John Lennon used it for The Beatles classic ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’, the final track on the 1966 Revolver album (something I forgot to mention in my previous article on Bowie and The Beatles). However, John Lennon based his lyrics after reading The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on The Tibetan Book of the Dead written by Timothy Leary, Ralph Metzner and Richard Alpert. (And while I’m going off on tangents, I just wanted to mention that Alpert’s most well known book Be Here Now just happens to be the title of (Beatle-loving) Oasis’ third album).

Dr. Ballinger also makes the argument that in Bowie’s 1972 breakthrough LP The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars there were “evident resonances between occultism and his musical career” and that he drew inspiration from a wide range of esoteric cultural influences to source “stimulating ideas and imagery to explore in lyrics, costumes and videos”. Ballinger also claims that Bowie’s work at this point of his career had a more integral relationship with the theory and practice of magic and occultism:

“Parsing Crowley’s legacy, one of the key aspects of magic is the transformation of the self (and, possibly, the wider social reality) through acts that focus the imagination/will towards such change, such acts including sex, drug consumption, meditation, and creative performance (i.e., rituals). In this vein Bowie can be considered a distinctly magical musician whose whole career revolved around the transformation of the self and the wider culture through the ‘ritual performances’
of rock music, such as concerts, recordings, and videos. In his most influential period
 of the 1970s, Bowie created personae (such 
as Ziggy, Aladdin Sane, and the Thin White Duke) and undertook musical experiments (the ‘plastic soul’ of Young Americans and the avant-garde/krautrock/funk synthesis of the ‘Berlin trilogy’) that in turn transformed rock culture by inspiring scores of other artists. The gender-bending that was a notable aspect of Bowie’s personae in this period (for example, the androgynous cover photo for The Man Who Sold The World (1970) or the 1979 video for ‘Boys Keep Swinging’), and the cultivation of bisexual overtones in his lyrics and performance (‘John, I’m Only Dancing’ as an account of bisexual angst), are also interesting to consider in relation to Crowley’s emphasis on sexuality as a core component of magical transformation”.

Like some of the best music by The Beatles, some of the best music made by Bowie was while he was using drugs excessively (often described by his biographers as a ‘cocaine-induced psychosis’). Bowie himself claims that in 1975 he was in poor mental and physical health but ironically he was producing some of the best music (and acting) of his career. However, Bowie’s cocaine addiction has also been used as an excuse for his behaviour during the 1976 period where he flirted with Nazi occultism and made the claim that the UK would benefit from a fascist leader (“I think I might have been a bloody good Hitler. I’d be an excellent dictator. Very eccentric and quite mad”). Many musicians have said they are interested in Nazi imagery and fashion (e.g., Bryan Ferry) and others have collected Nazi memorabilia (e.g., Lemmy) but these interests do not mean such people are Nazi-loving or fascists.

Bowie’s esoteric and occultist interests appear to subside as his career progressed and it wasn’t until his final album that Bowie appeared to be using music (and the accompanying promo videos) in a symbolic way for people to re-interpret his music as a cryptic death note to all his hardcore acolytes (of which I would include myself). Unless Bowie left any explanation for his final seven songs, we can only speculate. However, I’ll leave you with the thoughts of Dr. Ballinger who has done a better job than I could ever do:

“The Blackstar album has seen Bowie go out with a distinctly occult bang…As every prior Bowie album cover has featured a portrait, the five-pointed ‘black star’ of 
this one is presumably meant to represent Bowie too – perhaps in his ultimate persona as spirit (the five-pointed star being a classic Hermetic/Gnostic symbol of ‘man as microcosm’, with the contradictory image of a ‘black star’ also evoking a koan or the alchemical union of opposites). The creepy atmosphere conjured up by the lyrics of the title track – “In the villa of Ormen/Stands a solitary candle/On the day of execution/Only women stand and smile” – is successfully evoked in the video for the song. Bowie 
is depicted as preacher of some dark 21st century faith, brandishing a Blackstar bible among acolytes whose spasmodic ‘dancing’ suggests a state of possession. A reading of the imagery here as analogous to Crowley and his Book of the Law is perhaps apt; director Johan Renck, who designed the videos with Bowie, has mentioned Crowley as a reference point. Some kind of Hermetic/Gnostic subtext about eternity, spirit and the flesh is further implied in the imagery of the video’s other ‘storyline’, in which the shade of a dead astronaut – Bowie himself, in his formative Major Tom persona? – floats up into a ‘black star’ of eternity, before, in a possibly Orphic reference, leaving behind his bejewelled skull for ritual veneration by a sect of mutant women. Where the esoteric overtones of the ‘Blackstar’ video are eerie, those of the video for ‘Lazarus’ are poignant. Bowie plays himself as a patient in a hospital bed, whose closet is a portal from which appears a double who is seemingly meant to signify his essential spirit. This figure is not garbed as Ziggy, the Thin White Duke
 or any of Bowie’s most famous personae, but in the striped black jumpsuit in which he undertook the famous occult photo shoot for Station to Station, in which he is depicted drawing Kabbalistic symbols on the wall. That Bowie chose this costume for his valedictory performance suggests he was giving a subtle nod to the deep, lasting metaphysical significance that this period had upon the rest of his life”.

Dr. Mark Griffiths, Professor of Behavioural Addiction, International Gaming Research Unit, Nottingham Trent University, Nottingham, UK

Further reading

Ballinger, D. (2016). The mage who sold the world. Fortean Times, 338, 28-33.

Buckley, D. (2005). Strange Fascination: David Bowie – The Definitive Story. London: Virgin Books.

Cann, K. (2010). Any Day Now: David Bowie The London Years (1947-1974). Adelita.

Doggett, P. (2012). The Man Who Sold The World: David Bowie and the 1970s. London: Vintage.

Goddard, S. (2015). Ziggyology. London: Ebury Press.

Hewitt, P. (2013). David Bowie Album By Album. London: Carlton Books Ltd.

Leigh, W. (2014). Bowie: The Biography. London: Gallery.

O’Leary, C. (2016). Rebel Rebel. Alresford: Zero Books.

Pegg, N. (2011). The Complete David Bowie. London: Titan Books.

Rogovoy, S. (2013). The secret Jewish history of David Bowie. Forward.com, April 16. Located at: http://forward.com/culture/174551/the-secret-jewish-history-of-david-bowie/

Seabrook, T.J. (2008). Bowie In Berlin: A New Career In A New Town. London: Jawbone.

Spitz, M. (2009). Bowie: A Biography. Crown Archetype.

Trynka, P. (2011). Starman: David Bowie – The Definitive Biography. London: Little Brown & Company.