By the nineties, Bowie was able to speak intelligently and sing forcefully about his work. Outside is where it all began for me. I had almost sold my copy of the horrific, challenging album to Frankie Teardrop for five dollars. But I kept it, and discovered, after repeated listenings, that I couldn't shake the goddamn thing from my head. I listened to it ritually. Seventy plus minutes of gargantuan, sprawling, dissonant, narrative murder music, every day, lighting some patchouli incense and swinging in a sky chair, or lying in bed, watching the sunset from my windows, and descending into the musical madness.
Here is Bowie at the time, speaking of the "Outside" project.
1. Outside 1
1. Outside 2
1. Outside 3
One time, my friends and I had a discussion regarding which song, in the hypothetical discussion that we were women hard up for cash, we would love to strip to (complete with pole). My choice was the rather unimaginative "Honky Tonk Women," by the Rolling Stones. My friend Chris (who may be the best poet I know) surprised me with his brilliant, appropriate choice--the third song and only (?) single from the album:
The Heart's Filthy Lesson