© theotherpress ¢ Culture

February 4, 2004

 

Bowie Rocks
GM Place

Vanessa Simpson
OP Contributor

The night opened with the talented and
vivacious Macy Gray on stage sporting her
signature afro. Dressed in a Roots }
wardrobe from Robson St., Gray warmed '
up the audience for rocker David Bowie. 1
But the soulful, jazzy richness of Gray's
voice seemed lost on the ears of Bowie's
older fans. While younger concert-goers
answered Gray’s call to shake their booties
and danced in their seats, older fans sat
reserved, saving their energy for the star of
the show.

They awaited David Robert Jones, a.k.a.
David Bowie. The star who, in 1965,
changed his name so as not to be confused !
with Davy Jones of The Monkees. David |
Bowie has shown a staying power that has
lasted four decades. He has carved his
name, his style, and his music into the
psyche and hearts of millions.

Saturday night Bowie entertained a
near-capacity crowd at General Motors
Place in Vancouver with his Reality Tour.
He opened the show with “Rebel Rebel,”
a song that exemplifies Bowie's early |
career. Older fans that remembered the }

edgy Bowie of the late 60s and 70s sat
alongside his new wave fans of the 80s.
Teens banged their heads and shook their
fists next to their parents. It was a night
that showed generations could appreciate
the same musical talent.

The opening few minutes of the per-
formance cleverly transformed an animat-
ed version of Bowie's band into flesh-and-
blood musicians. Then on the down
stroke of a guitar note, there stood Bowie
ready to rock.

The minimalist stage design, the light-
ing, and the sparse special effects were
enough to focus the audience on Bowie
and his band. Bowie didn’t wow his fans
with pyrotechnics and flashy dance steps.
He entertained them with his talent, and
his sincerity. This approach, often lost in
recent concerts, created an atmosphere
indicative of a small club where bands play
for fun to their ardent fans.

When Bowie first walked on stage, he
noticed a woman in the front row with a
huge bunny. In between songs he said, “I
love when fans bring bunnies to concerts.”

 

Later, he dedicated a song to Isabelle, the
bunny-toting enthusiast.

A good concert is a reciprocal event, and
Bowie wanted to ensure his fans knew he
wanted to be there. “I can see that guy
with the red hair,” he said pointing to a
fan dressed like Bowie in his Ziggy
Stardust days. The fan ran towards the
stage gleeful that he'd been noticed.

“No, no,” Bowie said. “Stay there. I just
want to show that I can see you, like you
can see me.”

The vintage artist performed and
engaged his audience for two hours, play-
ing favourites such as “China Girl,”
“Fame,” “Under Pressure,” and “Heroes,”
mixed in with tracks such as the “Loneliest
Guy,” “Reality,” and “Panic in Detroit”
from his more recent CDs.

The highlight of the evening was the
30-minute encore Bowie performed for
the arena of screaming fans. Was it Bowie's
way of showing the crowd he appreciated
their steadfast loyalty? You need not
worry, Bowie, because at 57, you still rock!

 

SWF seeks contributors for one-

article stands or possible long-term
relationships. Do you listen to
CDs? Attend movies, plays, or con-
certs? Read any good books lately?
If so, I'd love to hear all about it.
Be a culture writer for the Other
Press! Don’t do it for the money,
the glory, or the fame...do it for me,
your lonely culture editor.

 

 

 

A Dad Again

Tanya Perone
OP Contributor

Enrique’s 87-Year-
Old Grandfather
Is Going To Be

 

 

. Would you think it’s just a little weird to

hear that soon youll be the “proud
nephew or niece” of an uncle 30 years
your junior? Well that’s the news pop
singer Enrique Iglesias (age 28), son of
Latino icon Julio Iglesias (age 60),
received recently. Yup that’s right, Julio is
going to have a bouncing baby brother,
making Enrique a soon-to-be nephew.

grandfather, Dr. Julio
Iglesias (ironically a former gynecolo-
gist), and American wife, Ronna, secret-
ly married in 2002, shortly after the
passing of first wife Maria de la Cueva.
The doctor will expect the arrival of his

Enrique’s

son this spring, two years after becoming
a great grandfather. Proud mother and
father are only 47 years apart. It does,
however, seem like mass confusion to
the family dynamics when you pair up a
man with a woman who could poten-
tially be his granddaughter, and sweep
her off to a United States clinic for arti-
ficial insemination treatments. But what

ae: Page 16 e http://www.otherpress.ca

do I know, I might just be too naive to
appreciate gene-pool magic in the mak-
ing.

Asked for his thoughts on the matter,
musical hit legend and former Real
Madrid goalkeeper Julio Iglesias report-
ed that he’s thrilled to have a brother on
the way and furthermore hopes to be as
fortunate as his father at 87 years of age.
Julio Sr. helped deliver the first three
grandchildren of the family (Julio Jr.’s
children).

I can see the possible future headlines
now: “Julriqueo Wins The 2025 Best
Latino Hit Award for ‘El padre que
usted no era demasiado viejo un hom-
bre (Father, You Weren't Too Old A
Man).”

Born in Orense in 1916, Dr. Julio
Iglesias joins well-known “octogenarian”
fathers.such as Anthony Quinn (who
had lucky number 13 at the age of 81)
and Saul Bellow (Montreal author, and
proud father at age 84).

 

 

Frog Eyes,
The Golden
River

Cam Reed
OP Contributor

No trees-less dirt. Arched green above.
Snails plucking harps lie alongside the
path challenging The Golden River. I
walk and stop. Stepping only in fourths,
I wait to gather myself while looking at
the pond, at the XY and/or XX
chromies. They are only tadlings. A
youth’s lost with appendages. A
moment gone. I right up myself and
find no path. Rather. I stand on heart-
beating lily pads. ,

Descending. The sky is red. The snails
remain but without a shell. I cannot be
helped.

Snails: “Who you questioned?”

They finger their sides with demands.
(Sinful). Strangle the tadlings with harp
strings. So quickly to turn on them. |
lose sight. But someone’s prayers are
with them, no?

Underwater, existence is muffled. My
tears go unnoticed. I can't swim up
without losing my legs. Me thought,
what pain it was to drown. | am being
killed, submerging. My struggle-less air
bubbles float up and turn to fiends.

Fiends: “I think you're JEALOUS.”

Last Gasp.

I: “Holy Terror!”

.-youre not in the dark—yourre not
in the ditch.

Unconscious. Amphibian organs play
my death march. Clouded, the noise
wears a mask. | have suffocated on the
rivers that bend; I am limp and cane-
stuck. Float—do not rise...you will not
rise.

A voice, faint screams beam through
the fabric.

Voice: “Oh Billy, come on.”

I; “GET BENEATH ME BIRD!”

Lifted and burnt from the gathering
arms. They breathe and I try to join
them—but failing. Liquid seeps
through my pores, and forms a bird-sil-
houette on the sprouting grass. A spar-
row explodes underneath me, flashing
its wings toward the horizon.

Sparrow: “Everybody is going to wake
up with their eyes.”

She turns to the knight and clicks his
heels goodnight. I cough and live.

We have begun dancing around a fire
in a barrel. The red sky is fading to
green and The Golden River is near its
end. Hands hold the air to swing it
around us.

All: “HOLIDAY!”

A hand creeps—lands on my shoulder.
And around my neck hangs my wife.
Ear-to-ear, I wrap my wrinkled fingers
between her figures. We stare at the fes-
tivities knowing that it isn’t the end.
Ominous odors drag.

Wife: “Pll keep sailing on.”

I: “Until the rosy pink dawn.”

Band: Frog Eyes, Melanie Campbell,
Grayson’ Miniely,
Michael Rak

Carey Mercer,