Bowie PDF Book from JFK247

and then … it got sidetracked.’
Reeves Gabrels was one of many people who,
during their time with David, debated the nature of
fame: like gold, or diamonds, it was seen as
precious, but its inherent value was impossible to
determine. Reeves’ conclusion was that it was ‘a
pile of shit’; David, for all his contradictions, was
addicted to it. Even if he abhorred the intrusions of
the media, his insecurities demanded he court them,
for his public persona – how he was perceived –
was now an intrinsic part of his own self-image. Thus
the most personal, anguished emotions were both
something to be concealed and to be displayed –
most famously at the memorial concert for Freddie
Mercury, which took place a few weeks after the
close of the Tin Machine tour, on 20 April, 1992.
The show was a strange mix, reflecting Queen’s
quixotically diverse fan base: from heavy metallers
like Guns N’ Roses, through to Liz Taylor and Liza
Minnelli. David showed an effortless understanding
of the event; for if Freddie wasn’t a truly close friend,
their careers were closely intertwined, as two of the
songs performed that night, ‘All the Young Dudes’ –
a favourite of Brian May’s – and ‘Under Pressure’
illustrated. David looked composed and impossibly
well groomed in mint-green suit and Action Man hair,
next to Annie Lennox, who was seemingly made-up
as Pris, the ‘pleasure model’ replicant from
Bladerunner, and nuzzled provocatively against his
cheek at the song’s climax.
The night’s real resonance would come from the
presence of Mick Ronson, a man who’d been as