“That’s me in the American eye”: The two albums David Bowie is remembered for in the US
David Bowie, being complex and elusive? Tell me something I don’t already know.
The fact of the matter was that even if you carried out a degree-worthy study into the life and times of the Starman, he was never fully knowable. Don’t get this twisted – obviously, that was quite deliberate – but there was a constant distinction between what we saw in the public eye, his real life, and the lines that were blurred somewhere in the middle.
Although he was very much the schemer behind his own master plan in this regard, it didn’t mean that the concept of his own status wasn’t something Bowie had to continuously grapple with. Of course, for any artist, the changes in one’s level of fame across time, and indeed countries, would often be difficult to wrap one’s head around.
But in Bowie’s case, with such a stark transatlantic divide that he had to attempt to struggle, the challenge was harder to take on than most. On one hand, although his popularity in Britain was far from mooted, there was a more widespread appreciation for the scores of his career that led the fans to be spread out in terms of their favourite eras and sounds. By comparison, in America, it was all or nothing.
It’s an idiosyncrasy of the Stateside zeitgeist that culture can rarely just exist in the middle of people’s consciences. Either you’re on top of the world or completely irrelevant in the Americans’ eyes, something which Bowie experienced both sides of. “I guess over here, specifically, in America, the sound bite-y thing really kind of stays around,” he mused in a 2002 interview.
“You’re defined by the two or three things that the largest amount of people know about,” he continued, before qualifying, “and mine is really Ziggy Stardust and Let’s Dance. That’s me in the American eye.” In this respect, the man was incredibly self-aware about his own plaudits and downfalls, but it also spoke to a much wider, possibly unsaid, truth.
You could argue that, despite America stereotypically offering far more glitz and grandeur than the UK, Bowie felt more comfortable at home because people appreciated him for the artistic polymath he truly was. Conversely, living out his final years in New York brought an intentional anonymity – not because people wouldn’t recognise him, but because his status simply wasn’t as huge.
This mapped out a convoluted web of both advantages and disadvantages in Bowie’s search for a true home on either side of the Atlantic. If he wanted to be regarded as a true king, he would have to head to Britain. But if he wanted a true high life, yet risk selling out in the process, America would have been the better option. It was an impossible choice.
But above all else, the fact that Bowie managed to master both countries, as well as a slew of others, in a way that was just the right fit for his life spoke to how highly attuned he was to himself. Nothing was without purpose or intention, and every single decision was made with a specific vision in mind. Really, there’s no better mantra than that.
