In 1975, at the age of 11, I saved up my allowance and bought my first-ever album - David Live. A fantastic double album that captures the period where Bowie was transitioning from the Ziggy Stardust / Aladdin Sane phase and the "Plastic Soul" phase of Bowie's evolution.



In 1995, twenty years later, I had one of the most spine-tingling experiences of my musical life - walking into a huge rehearsal room at S.I.R. in Manhattan as David Bowie and his band were running though their version of NIN's "Hurt". Cursory introductions were made as we stood at the foot of the stage with our bags in our hands, and before any of the guys on stage could put down their instruments, David said, "We think we've got a version of 'Hurt' worked up. Would you like to hear it?"



We took seats in the big couches at the back of the huge rehearsal hall, too nervous to even take off our heavy winter coats, and Reeves Gabrels started up with his backwards-sounding guitar riff that replaced the piano part in Trent's original version of the song.



The memory of that moment, so casual to David and company, but so awe-inspiring and terrifying to me, still gives me chills. At that moment, tears began to well up in my eyes as the magnitude of what was occurring sank in. It was all too heavy, man. Just... wow.



For the next couple of months, Trent, Robin, Chris, Danny, and I had the surreal experience of playing a "co-headlining" tour with David and his amazing band. NIN would play a fairly complete set, and then we shared the stage for a few songs with David singing alongside Trent, followed by members of his band gradually appearing on stage and joining in - culminating in a three-drummer, four-guitarist version of David's new song "Hello Spaceboy". Bashing away on keyboards and drums in the shadows and fog behind David and Trent, two of the most unique and creative musicians ever, is an experience that 11-year-old me could barely have imagined would ever be possible. But it happened. And it was unforgettable.



David was the most kind, gracious, and graceful man you could imagine. Off stage his demeanor was exactly as he appears in interviews - composed, intelligent, never at a loss for words. He was invariably complementary, enthusiastic, and insightful, but his sense of humor was always right beneath the surface. Compared to the erudite, cultured, worldly Bowie, we were a bit of a rough bunch, but he instantly put us at ease with his easy humor and casual manner, and made everyone involved feel as equals. Though, in truth, we all stood in awe of his talent, legacy, and role in our musical formative years. How dare he attempt to treat us as equals? We were mere mortals, each of us but pond scum from small towns in middle America, places with names like Mercer, Erie, Middletown, Marietta, and Corpus Christi, while he was a creature from another planet entirely, who had temporarily deigned to join us on Earth and grace us with a voice from an entirely different astral plane.



Some anecdotes:



Before one of the first shows, when we hadn't really "hung out" with David much yet and were still very nervous in his presence, Trent had recently turned 30 and was humorously bemoaning this fact, when David walked into our dressing room and heard the tail end of what Trent was saying. Without missing a beat, David countered his argument by saying, "Thirty is nothing. Wait 'til you turn 40 - your ass drops." Ice broken, tension defused, laughter exploded.



David had a wild collection of costumes to wear on stage, ranging from a sort of tuxedo-with-skirt concoction made of distressed linen to a suit with tails in snake-skin print fabric. He enjoyed wheeling out some unusual combo on various nights, and although his wardrobe was far more subdued than his getups in the Ziggy Stardust era, it was obvious that experimental fashion was something he was deeply involved with. It wasn't a case of some weird-o designer presenting costumes for him to trot out; he spent time and effort with his on-tour designer and seamstress combining and re-working pieces from a collection that spanned four or five roll-around garment racks, so that he could always keep the designs changing and create a fluid visual experience. I got the impression it was less for the enjoyment of the fans and more for his personal sense of presenting a complete artistic statement.



Carlos Alomar could drink Herradura tequila like it was water, and it seemingly had little to no effect on his ability to stay vertical and coherent - this was not the case with the rest of us. He'd carry a bottle around the after-show celebrations and offer it around, and as we choked and spluttered after downing a huge shot he'd poured, he'd say, "Yeah, feel that? That's the fire. Gotta have that fire!"



Mike Garson's keyboard setup was behind me on the stage, and in down time at sound checks I would try to screw with him by playing bursts of atonal, "kitten on the keys" piano noodles - which he could flawlessly improvise around and manage to turn into a free-jazz duet, even though he couldn't see what my hands were doing. I think his piano has more than twelve notes in the octave - or maybe mine had fewer? Either way, his ear and mind were so sharp that he could turn my nonsense into music without batting an eye. Amazing.



Of course it was surreal to be playing with David nightly, sitting around on big fluffy dressing-room couches wearing big fluffy bathrobes next to Ziggy Stardust himself, bumming a Marlboro Light from the Thin White Duke when I'd run out, and all that - but what impressed me the most was that he had a genuine enthusiasm for what was happening. He was in no way jaded, he was not out on "just another tour to pay the bills", he had no sense of competition between what he was doing and what young, disruptive upstarts like NIN were bringing to the table. As always, he was in search of the new. The unexplored. The unsafe. And this was absolutely evident in every moment of my time with him. I learned a lot about outlook, approach, and attitude by watching and listening to him.



At the end of the tour David surprised us all by presenting us with individual portraits that he had painted of each member of NIN. A very special gesture from one of the most talented, thoughtful, and gracious people I have ever known.



Pictured below is this unique and treasured artifact of a special moment in time.



R.I.P. David Bowie. Thanks for the music and for the memories.

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