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Bye Bye Spaceboy.

Like the rest of the music-loving planet, I was shocked to wake up to the news that David Bowie was dead.

It didn’t and still doesn’t compute. I had no reason to think he was less mortal than the rest of us, yet somehow, irrationally, I almost believed that he was. It wasn’t just his breakthrough early-70s hits and those accompanying videos / TOTP / Old Grey Whistle Test performances that made him seem otherworldly; it was also his face. No-one had looked or sounded that way before him, and it’s a fair to say that no-one will again.

I can't imagine anyone not respecting him for what he did. As a Beatles fan, I’m used to people taking the devil’s advocate route and saying they were overrated; contradicting a generally perceived opinion is an easy card to play. But not with David Jones. His constant reinvention and reinvigoration - combined with his recent dodging of the limelight - created a persona it’s impossible to knock. He even managed to rise above the soulless 1980s (and those questionably tight trousers in Labyrinth) relatively unscathed, and there aren’t many musical artists that can say that.

Personally, I’ll always associate his songs with Mostly Comedy, as his '1969/1974 Best Of' compilation has been the interval house music at nearly every gig we’ve run. Somehow, it never got boring; you simply can’t apply that adjective to the man.

One of the first things I did on hearing the news was listen to his 2013 comeback single, ‘Where Are We Now?’. It gave me goosebumps. I would suggest doing the same when you get the chance, and then cheering yourself up by flicking through this.

Major Tom was right. The stars do look very different today. Bye bye spaceboy. Safe flight.

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