Trash/Thrash Tuesday: Bauhaus – “Ziggy Stardust”

Who was deeply saddened to hear of the passing of David Bowie? First Lemmy, and then David Bowie.. it’s been a very hard year for all the rock heroes. Who’s gonna go next? Ozzy? Everyone will collectively shit themselves.

I see a lot of the hipster music types (Ed note:or that perennial asshole Tom Savini) out there saying that anyone grieving over a celebrity that they didn’t know are idiots – but the thing is.. Shut up and stop it. You’re a bully and it’s dumb. People connect to rock stars, to musicians, and to artists because they feel as if that person represents a part of themselves. For all the misfit children inspired by Bowie, and Lemmy, who felt like they saw themselves represented for once in a world that had thrown them overboard, these people are crushed. When Lemmy’s funeral was broadcast live, a lot of people said it was stupid and borderline morbid – however, I disagree. Collectively, events like that, bring everyone together and allow them to share memories, share stories, share happiness, and grief. The important thing with grief is for the person grieving to not feel alone.

I know this shit. I work with people who are dying. That’s my job.

For this week, I had originally written a different piece, and it is only fitting to feature this one instead. I chose Ziggy Stardust because it’s my favourite Bowie song, and also because it was covered by Bauhaus. Peter Murphy, a skeletal, makeup wearing, fabulous creeper, who at points even looks a bit like Bowie. I remember growing up and hearing the original when my parents would listen to it, and then later hearing it on spooky Bauhaus tapes. It was kind of like a spooky music-inception. An artist who made my parents feel great inspiring artists who had made me feel great, sharing and changing and inspiring and being inspired.


This has been a rough start to 2016.
So like I’ve said before.. Hold your friends close, hold your family close. Have that beer. Go for that run. Do all the stuff you keep putting off. Create. Take time. Read. Because you never know when it’s gonna be your time. You really never do.

Ziggy played guitar, jamming good with Wierd and Gilly,
And The Spiders from Mars.
He played it left hand, but made it too far,
Became the special man,
Then we were Ziggy’s Band.

Ziggy really sang, screwed up eyes and screwed down hairdo
Like some cat from Japan, he could lick ’em by smiling
He could leave ’em to hang
Here came on so loaded man, well hung and snow white tan.

So where were the spiders while the fly tried to break our balls?
Just the beer light to guide us.
So we bitched about his fans and should we crush his sweet hands?

Ziggy played for time, jiving us that we were Voodoo
The kids was just crass,
He was the naz
With God given ass
He took it all too far
But boy could he play guitar.

Making love with his ego Ziggy sucked up into his mind
Like a leper messiah
When the kids had killed the man
I had to break up the band

Ziggy played guitar

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