Already a musical legend, David Bowie has attained a virtual god-like status since his death in January The subject of books, documentaries and endless tributes, he is almost bigger in death than he was in life. All of which makes the recollection of Bowie as a middle-aged seducer of teenage groupies, shared via a podcast by comedian David Baddiel, feel wildly jarring.
She and her best friend had one of many drinking nights with Bowie and ended up back at their shack with David. Bowie was said to have slept with a year-old girl while on holiday in the Caribbean island of Mustique. It appears so. This week, the Mail has spoken to two women who were under the age of consent when they slept with Bowie.
Man, woman, old or young. Finding out he was two-timing them, both attempted suicide. Sometimes, having sex was a way of gain an advantage. He used sex to endear himself to people, so they loved him and did things for him and worked hard to promote him. It was the pure selfishness of wanting to succeed. But at other times, his promiscuity seemed more simply a habit which he enjoyed too much to consider amending.
I had a wonderfully irresponsible promiscuous time. The sexual free-for-all characterised his open marriage to Angie, whom he wed in By his tour of America he was with Cyrinda Foxe, a year-old model. She recalled that he sent for her while he was having sex with a groupie because he needed someone to talk to. Back in his home in Chelsea, the focal point was a 4ft deep bed known as the Pit, where he and Angie would host orgies. She had met David after watching him perform at the Marquee in Soho in He came onstage in thigh-length, fringed suede boots, with long hair.
After the set he came up behind her and brushed her hair, and then asked if he could come home with her she later worked out that this was because he was going to miss the last train back to Bromley. He liked bright women. I remember he once phoned me up to tell me that he had just written Space Oddity.
He wrote the song Andy Warhol for me. I remember once he came round and said that his heart was a bit broken because he had trouble with Hermione Farthingale, his ballet dancer girlfriend. Led by Californian wild child Sable Starr, who had a romance with Iggy Pop when she was 13, the girls competed to bed visiting British stars. One of their number was Lori Maddox, also known as Lori Mattix.
He was on his Spiders From Mars tour of She turned him down that night, but five months later Bowie returned to LA and she was called by his bodyguard, Stuey. His strangeness was the point. But for teenage girls, Bowie was as threatening in his masculinity as Donny Osmond and David Essex, or Justin Bieber today; he was the safe choice of poster for year-olds to Blu-Tack to their bedroom walls. For me, he was all spectacle, costume and persona which always carries with it a very slight hint of fascism.
And let us never forget: Bowie, along with Rod Stewart, gave the world the mullet. Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies.
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Log in. Phoenix's independent source of local news and culture. David Accomazzo January 13, AM. Join the New Times community and help support independent local journalism in Phoenix. Get the latest updates in news, food, music and culture, and receive special offers direct to your inbox. Support Us Phoenix's independent source of local news and culture. The surprise news of David Bowie passing Sunday night caught everyone off guard, and there has been a massive outpouring of emotion and support for a man whose music and art touched many New Times has published two such pieces.
Those tributes are well-deserved. Bowie leaves behind an incredibly diverse and impressive body of work, and he has inspired millions. David Bowie was many things — rock 'n' roll hero, queer icon, fashion superstar, a man unafraid to make daring artistic choices. With one blue eye, the other hazel. Hair a shock of chemical-electric orange a blaze sleek over the razored elegance of that beautifully strange face, painted vivid cyan and scarlet or powdered pearl. His body lithe, the hairlessness of it, milk-skinned delicate.
With arch grace through calculated spectacle the man born David Robert Jones crafted an image, or a sequence of images spanning four decades, of an exotic supernal creature — David Bowie — he could inhabit and perform for the watching world. That the fascinating creature on stage or on TV was a Man lapsed into obscurity, because of how he dressed, the way that he looked.
Singularly a master of artifice the Man who was David Bowie made himself appear strikingly to be something Other. Not a Man at all. And he was a brilliant artist, and he wrote songs that never get tired and he sang them fiercely, do you think I did not love him, too?
How he stood slanted and voice shuddered through him, do you think I did not love him, too? And I did not want my life to be boring, I thought David Bowie was beautiful. I, too, wanted to be beautiful. To retreat into incandescent vivid-glitter technicolor dreamscapes remote from the mousy woe of my girl-life. David Bowie passed down to we the lowly visions of living differently; how could we not love him for it? How tempting to forget: David Bowie was a Man.
He was born on Planet Earth. He was brought up a boy. He moved through the world as a Man. For baby groupies life was a party; they were having a fabulous time, desired as they were by famous and talented men—what more could a girl dream of? He would have been 26 at the time. That is my age now. David Bowie let Mattix know he wanted to take her to his hotel room.
So they just talked. David Bowie wanted to take her out to dinner. She thought Starr and David Bowie could have sex, and she could just hang out and have fun.
He excused himself to the bedroom, leaving the girls with his bodyguard, who supplied them with champagne and hash. When the bedroom door opened again David Bowie stood in the doorway in a red and orange and yellow kimono.
David Bowie asked Mattix to wash him. Of course she did, she says. David Bowie was a Man. There has also been a re-surfacing of the rape allegations made by a woman against David Bowie in The charges were dropped; David Bowie dismissed them as a ridiculous desperate plea for attention by his accuser. They never came to anything. Consensus has been reached: nobody wants to hear about that shit again.
This outrage has been channeled along three main lines of backlash. First, there is the unreasoned appalled indignation of the grieving fan.
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