Top of the Pops Thursday evening 7.30. Tape recorder in front of the telly in the living room. Fingers crossed me and my older brother Neil would be left in peace. Dad’s weekly ogle at Legs and Co. was always a risk.
I really have no idea who else was on that week in October 1977. I have no idea who presented the show. What I do know is that David Bowie performed live. In jeans, shirt loose at the cuffs and a golden crucifix dangling from his neck, he looked like a God. Actually, strike that, he was God. I was 11 years-old. I knew David Bowie, the Starman who’d mesmerised 6 year-old me on the same show in 1972. Then he’d sung of children. He’d sung to me. But here was a new Bowie. The alien replaced by a lad with a nice haircut, washed and blow-dried too by the looks of it. This time he’d sing of Heroes. Just as that unmistakable beat and opening chords gave way to that voice. Just as I’d pressed record and the tape began to spin. Just as my brother and I exchanged a glance. Dad appeared. ‘Bloody Hell!’ I, I wish you could swim…like dolphins…like dolphins can swim… ‘Look at the bloody state of him.’ Though nothing…will drive them away…we can beat them…just for one day… ‘Christ. It’s bloody awful. He’s out of tune.’ I, I will be King…and you, you will be Queen… ‘Aw. He’s on drugs. He’s on drugs! Bloody disgrace!’ Oh, we can be heroes…just for one day… ‘Sounds like a cat being strangled. Christ almighty!’ And we kissed…as though nothing could fall… ‘Dear oh dear. Mary! Mary! Come and see this. Oh my God!’ We can beat them…forever and ever… ‘Look at his shirt! LOOK-AT-HIS-SHIRT. National Service. That’d sort out his like.’ We can be heroes… ‘He’ll never get anywhere with that racket.’ We can be heroes… ‘Tell you something. He’s no Matt Monro.’ We can be heroes…
0 Comments
|
AuthorEdinburgh born Scottish exile living in Dublin. I love words & will be blithering on about them here. Feel free to blither back. I'd love to hear from you. Archives
January 2016
Categories |