Time Out Magazine

December 1998

Like the character in space oddity, he is a disembodied voice, straining to be heard from a gigantic distance. Grappling with space age machinery in a bid too manipulate it to some greater end. Whether or not he’ll achieve it though, is another matter. David. David can you hear me? Ground control to thin white Duke! Is anyone out there? Hello!

“Get down, yer bastard!”


“Oh,” chirrups the voice in the distance. I was just downloading some mail.” David Bowie’s computer seems to have a voice activated mail facility, because the next thing we hear is a little cyberchipmonk squeaking, “you’ve got mail and you’ve got charisma!”

Bowie: ho ho ho

Your correspondent: “that’s nice”

Bowie: “I think I’d rather have mail than charisma!”

It’s not just any old afternoon which sees an American woman called Eileen phoning you up and telling you that David Bowie would like to have a word from his home in Bermuda. And when she does, there’s usually a reason. Not content with nestling in our collective subconscious as a snaggled tooth alien bloke with funny eyes and loads of hits about hanging around in space pretending to be a camp robot, David’s recently been reinventing itself even more comprehensively: as a flesh and bones commodity floating on the stock exchange; a cutting-edge mover on the art scene; and a drum n bass convert. However, it’s none of these things that David wants to talk about today. You may have already heard about BowieNet, his grand new Internet service provider venture. BowieNet was only launched this week, but it’s already been valued in excess of $500 million.

David laughs in the face of such figures: “well Yes, but in terms of what we’re actually making, I can’t buy a pack of cigarettes on it! Believe me!”

His enthusiasm remains undimmed however. So excited was Dave about the imminent launch of BowieNet that on Sept. 30 he decided to host a live chatroom via his website, with former Tin Machine chap and general Bowiemate Reeves Gabrels. This was indeed a momentous occasion: David Bowie, out there in cyberspace. A real proper Star man! Waiting for us in the sky! He’d like to come and meet us! And now he can!!!

“Ho Ho Ho” chuckles the man who even kept a straight face singing with Bing Crosby. “I tell you what. I think you might be overegging the cake a little!”

And you know he might be right. After all, the transcription of that history making September afternoon makes for bizarrely depressing reading. Think about it: you, a bowiefan, have your hero and admittedly his Bowiemate in front of you! And playing in your head are all those One-2-One ads where you’re sitting next to Dave in his space podule having a great old chinwag! And what do you ask him? Do you ask them about all the drugs he took in Berlin? Do you ask him what made the laughing Gnome laugh so much? Do you ask him what the fuck he was playing at on the dancing in the street video? [quick reminder: South Americaaaaaaa] do you Hell!!! You ask him when he’s going to play Oklahoma, whether or not he plans to write with Roger Waters and, in the case of some total psychopath going by the clever clever Bowie joke pseudonym of Nathan Adler, you ignore him completely and asked Bowiemate how he wrote a guitar solo. Useless useless useless!

David, do you sometimes despair of your fans?

“What to do you mean?”

Well they all seem a bit frightening?

“But you don’t feel as though you’re talking in a world that’s unfamiliar to you. What on earth could be frightening about it?”

They’re all like people you see in the queue at the hard rock cafĂ©.

I think that’s pretty much accurate! But then, that’s very much a microcosm of what Europe’s like.”

In a way, it’s no surprise that David has seen fit to reinvent himself as the man who sold the world an Internet service provider. Baby boomers will see him as a brand name they can trust, and they’ll jump at the chance to have an email address which ends in More than that though, it’s actually a logical realization of the Ziggy Stardust ethos: that gender and identity and sexuality are all boundaries which are there to be blurred.

Thanks to chat rooms – surely the ultimate forum for self reinvention – we can all be heroes just for one day! Sort of! Or even better, if you’re David Bowie, you can be a zero, something he’s recently discovered to his evident delight: he “crawls around” taking part in other peoples conversations anonymously. Have you ever pretended to hate yourself, as it were?

“Yes. Um, I’ve often raised the topic that some of David Bowie’s actions have been questionable, yes. But they just say, “Oh don’t be such a stuffy bastard! Everything he does is great!” [quick reminder that this isn’t strictly true: South Americaaaaaaa] “I go on them about three or for times a week. But back to the point of all this being quite prophetic. Someone did remind me the other day about a song I wrote called Saviour Machine, which was about a computer which dealt with all the world’s problems. And this machine did such a good job that, to create something for itself to do, it had to make things bad again. I think, without knowing it, the Internet was something I was always absolutely desperate to get involved with.”

To such a degree, in fact, that David says he doubts if he would have ever gone into music had the Internet been around in 1968. Such an assertion shames those of us who agree that the infosuperhighway has changed the world completely and yet – when it really is down to it – do little more then use it to look at pictures of Jayne Mansfield’s decapitated head and mangled Mercedes cars in Paris underpasses. Thankfully, the Web master himself has been finding similar distractions.

“Have you seen slap a spice girl yet? That’s pretty cool! Their heads pop out then you smash em one! Ha ha ha ha. It’s one of the cruelest sites on the net. I’ve seen a few Clinton ones too, involving cigars.”

So which spice girl did you slap first?

“What?” Comes the mock indignant response. I wouldn’t dream of doing that!”

0h, come on. Of course you would!

“I wouldn’t dream of it! How could you even asked me such a question?”

Look. Cyberspace is one of the few realms of your life where your actions have no moral consequences, and you’re telling me you didn’t take advantage of this?

“ha ha ha ha! If that’s the truth, then I’m indifferent to it!”

That’s outrageously diplomatic, David.

“Outrageous, at any rate!”

So would you have really not have become a pop star if the Internet had been around?

“Almost certainly,” he explains, “When I was a kid music was the fascinating alternative future. But now it’s just another career choice such as banking or being a travel rep [in, among other places, South Americaaaaaa], however, I feel the Internet is at this stage where the information and how you can still manipulate it and play around with it is still the exciting part of it.”

Indeed, you could take a lead from Prince and bypass the entire record company process by selling your records direct through your Web site.

“Well,” ponders the only prisoner of war camp inmate in Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence with a really great hairdresser, “Public Enemy recently put out an entire album’s worth of material with MPEG3 (non-boffins: MPEG3’s transmit sound over the net], which was a great idea, but looking at the news today, I noticed that what they didn’t do was ask their record companies permission. So they’ve had to take it all down again, which was a rather unfortunate bump in the manifesto.”

Many people have said that this potential for cutting out the middle man will revolutionize the way music is consumed. Why buy a record when you can just download tracks in this way? But David isn’t so sure. He reckons the technology will soon be co-opted by record companies.

“We’re undergoing a total demystification of product!” He declares triumphantly. “In years to come, record companies will save a load of money on packaging. They’ll just make different versions of artwork available on-screen and you’ll just print them up according to what songs you want to go on the record.”

David’s on a big demystification trip at the moment. One of the big attractions available on BowieNet will be the full-view camera, a 360 degrees camera with amazing picture quality which enables you to home in on a scene live from any angle. “The idea,” he enthuses,” is that, say I’m in the studio and you want to go in close on my nostril, you can do that. You can virtually direct your own viewing.”

Isn’t there a possibility of too much demystification? What if you forget to to switch it off and David Bowie’s sat there in his pants smelling his belly button fluff in front of a global audience?

“well, that’s what you get!” He chuckles. “Anything that muddles the parameters is to be embraced completely.”

It’s that philosophy which lies at the heart of Bowie’s next big project. Having recently discovered a whole load of outakes and residual songs from Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, he’s planning some kind of crazy multimedia project which seems set to leave the Bowie and Iggy-inspired Velvet Goldmine looking like a rainy night in with Suede’s mum. Possibly.

“Well,” he teases, “I don’t want to give too much away, but it’s not just going to come out in one form. And it was never the intention for it to be primarily a film. Somehow or other, I wanted to attack it any multimedia away. So, let’s just say the overall goal is to present Ziggy in various forms – all of which are autonomously interesting – but all the parts taken together present him as a whole.”

What the fuck are you on about?


Actually, I didn’t say that at all. You don’t say that to David Bowie. Instead, I nod sagely and tell him about a not-strictly-true project I’m working on called Software. Who knows? If he likes it, he might send us 50 grand to put it out.

“What’s that then?” He enquires.

A friend and I have written an entire ultrasonic album. The only way you can listen to it is through your dog. It’s sort of intended to play around with conventional notions of software. Alas though, no 50 grand is forthcoming.

Just a thin white belly laugh. “Oh! I think that’s wonderful! Very Dada! Although, it does have its precedents you know!”

Oh good. Not only won’t David give me any money, but someone else has already had my idea.

“I remember Pink Floyd messing around in the ’60s with black noise. They were trying to get the audience to debowel themselves during the performance. That met with a lot of amusement. A whole audience shitting themselves! Matter of fact, I saw a similar thing recently in the entrance at the last Saatchi show. Some guy actually created a bowel-moving machine and put it at the entrance. When I saw that, I thought: an old idea is hard to leave alone.”

Isn’t that a bit messy? A bowel moving machine in an art gallery?

“Oh I’m sure in an art gallery you could probably sell it! In fact, that was done by Manzoni in the ’60s. He put his own excrement in tins and then he sold it. Very successfully too. They still sell at extraordinary prices.”

That’s a very eco-friendly way of going to the toilet isn’t it? Unless you miss, of course.

“Ha ha ha ha! You’d have to eat a lot too, depending on how many you made.”

If you were going to write a song about it, you could sing, “here is my floater in a tin can….”

“Haahahahah” that whole relationship of art with bodily functions has yielded some amazing stuff. Many many years ago, I got to know William Burroughs and he told me that one day he went into the French patenting office and, for approximately five dollars, bought himself a copy of all the plans for making a black noise bomb. What is it? Well, it works on the principal of the opera singer and the glass – that there’s always a note that will destroy physical substances. And this guy had devised a method that reduces flesh to mush and leaves the building standing. It was not far removed from the frequencies that

Pink Floyd were playing around with. When you hear things like that, you wonder why the human race hasn’t been wiped out. But then, there are so many ways the world could end now.”

Indeed, planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing we can do. So to speak.

“Absolutely” confirms David, who addressed the problem memorably in “Five Years.” ” Especially the 2YK problem.”

What problem?

“In the year 2000? Do you know about this?”

Oh you mean the millenium bug!

“Yes, that’ll be right. They call it 2YK over here [surely Y2k? – author] which sounds almost like a um, nevermind. By, really not sure how to play this one. Personally, I don’t think I’ll be anywhere near aeroplanes or elevators on that day, that’s for sure. There are two or three well-known techheads who have already set up their own multiyear supplies of store cabins in the desert. They’ve taken guns and they are actually preparing for the breakdown of society as we know it.”

I trust you’ve stocked up on pot noodles then?

“Heh heh heh! To be honest I havent even considered where I’m going to be.”

How about South Americaaaa?

“I suppose Bermuda is as good a bet as any. I guess they’re all pretty worried about it over in Britain too, yeah?”

You could say that. After all, most people here are still trying to get to grips with setting the video.

“Jesus, is that so?” David’s 50-a-day cockney drawl modulates into instant haughtiness. He can’t stand the idea of the Brits as a nation of technophobes.

“It’s crazy isnt it? You still come across people who make out like the Internet is a passing fad. Don’t they realize that the entire communications process is undergoing the most drastic revolution that we have ever encountered?”

You can just imagine David getting similarly strident on the inevitable Branson-style TV ads for his new enterprise. An exclusive foray into pages on his website accessible only through BowieNet shows a zealous desire to reveal his innermost thoughts with fellow techheads on a variety of subjects. Why, he even keeps a journal everywhere he goes. Negotiating the windy streets of New York, we get Bowie pondering how, in a parallel life, “I could be back in Bromley, pushing the grandchildren’s pram, forgetting to pick up a carton of milk.” Click on to another icon, and you get pics of Dave them with a variety of trendy celeb friends such as Goldie! But you don’t need a modem and a special top secret password to notice his evangelical allegiance to this brave new world. That much is obvious to anybody within yards of his rather delightful cybermusing. Especially the lovely Iman. “I do find a net incredibly addictive,” muses David. “so much so, in fact, that one has to be a bit careful about. Otherwise I think one can put oneself in the position of losing wives! Hahahahah!”

There’s an exclusive.

“Well I tell you what! Do you know what was the first thing I did after the first month or two of being online? I banned myself working late at night, because I’d just get carried away with it. And if there’s one sure fire way to break up a happy household”

So your dinner was in the dog?

“It kind of gets like that. Talking of which”

David suddenly realizes he’s been on the phone for an hour. His exotic missus must be a stern taskmistress, because quick as a flash he’s saying his goodbyes. Woah there than! Just one thing before you go David.

“Go on then!”

Well it’s just that this is running in our Christmas issue. Any chance of a seasonal greeting for Time Out readers?



” Oh your being serious! Um, “Sign up, sign up for Jesus! “Hahahah! It’s a beautiful sentiment isn’t it?”

Very reminiscent of the Bing Crosby thing.

“Ah yes! That old chestnut! Yes he’d have approved.”

And with one final gravelly chuckle, he’s gone. Time it seems, waits for no Iman

BOXED TEXT and photos:
1) Having his teeth fixed: “the problem was the two that were kindof fangy had gradually been pushed out via all the other teeth and I was finding that whenever I’d woken up with my face down on the pillow, my top lip would be bleeding. I’ve lived with them quite comfortably all my life, and I was never really bothered with them. But once they actually became an impractical piece of equipment, I had them ripped out and replaced. At first it felt a bit weird, because for weeks I was just rubbing my lips on them wondering where they’d gone. It felt like a little bit of me was missing!

2) passing judgment on new versions of his songs:
“I heard Oasis’s version of heroes last year. I didn’t think it was very good. That was the first thing that I thought about it. and then, if I remember rightly. I didn’t think much about it again. It felt like a very end of the night in the pub kind of thing, which is I’m sure how it was produced. The Aphex Twin did a much better version…..”

3) Doing some Journalism:
“I’ve started doing some book reviews for Barnes & Noble. They saw that I did a lot of book reviews on the site, and they figured that it might not be a bad thing if they got me to do some for them as well. I gave them five categories I’d be interested in reviewing, from art through fiction to music. The first one I’ve done it is “Glam” by Barney Hoskyns. What’s it like? “Excellent. It’s good that everybody gets more equal space in it then they usually get – by which I mean Marc Bolan and Roxy Music. And of course, the great thing about doing these reviews is that now I gave a whole load of books every month!


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