Column: The privilege of seeing a phenomenal artist at the top of his game

It was 19 years ago, just days short of my 30th birthday that I finally got to see one of my idols, David Bowie in concert. 

And my God, it was a gig to remember.

I was pregnant and so arrived in plenty of time to find myself a quiet corner in the Point Depot - or Point Theatre, to give the venue its correct name at the time. 

I’d been to enough concerts there to know the lay of the land, and to be confident of not putting my precious passenger at risk. Worst case scenario, I would just leave if it began to feel too crowded. 

It had been a long, roundabout journey from Donegal Town to Dublin. My eldest daughter who was six at the time had her heart set on a very specific bike that was proving extremely  difficult to source. I’d finally tracked one down to a toyshop in Newry. 

Throw in a few major diversions for good measure, and my partner and I ended up following a series of rural roads along the border, dipping in and out of Armagh and Monaghan until mightily relieved, we arrived at the shop where the owner was very kindly holding on to the last bike in the range for us. 

Onwards to Dublin and to the Ashling Hotel where we were staying. 

It felt very grown up to have driven to Dublin and to be staying in a hotel to go to a concert.

Previously I would have associated gigs in the capital with hitch-hiking or getting lifts with Donegal people who lived in Dublin. Even the bus would have felt like a luxury.

Accommodation, on the rare occasions when we did happen to stay over, would most likely have been the floor of a friend’s flat, or a couch at best. 

Bowie had suffered a few health scares that had led to earlier dates on his 2003 tour being cancelled. There were a lot of reasons why this gig might not happen, or why I might not be able to attend, or to feel comfortable enough to stay  for all of it.

I’d also been hearing mixed reports about the sound quality on this particular tour, though that may have been linked to his health problems and to  issues with the various venues. 

But there was no need to worry on that front. Soundwise, The Point was a superb place to go for a concert. I’ve never been to a bad gig there. It just works really, really well - or it did back then anyway. It's a while since I’ve been there!

And David Bowie was absolutely at the top of his game.

There was a small VIP area not far from the stage, and a steward guided me towards it  when she saw that I was pregnant. 

She also kindly pointed out the nearest toilets and told me that I was allowed to skip the queue - vital information when you have an almost fully-formed baby wriggling about on your bladder!

With everything in place, I could finally relax and soak up the atmosphere. The overriding mood was celebratory; the anticipation was building, and when Bowie took to the stage and those opening chords of Rebel Rebel rang out, there was a surge of collective joy that I can still feel to this day. 

The Reality album had just been released, and the set list was a mix of new songs and old favourites spanning his long, productive and varied career. 

I’m not such a die-hard fan that I love everything that Bowie released. I don’t. There is some of his mid-career music that doesn’t work for me at all. But having written, recorded and performed for well over 40 years, always with a courage and creativity that was unapologetic and trailblazing, there was much to love about this phenomenal artist. 

Bowie’s set list that night was perfect. He played for ages and the burst of energy that came from those opening chords never dipped. It was joyous, exhilarating, triumphant.

After all the elaborate guises that had helped form and define his character and music over the decades, Bowie graced the stage that evening in a simple pair of black jeans and a T-shirt. The music was the star of the show. 

The band was incredible too, and the huge love shown for Irish guitarist Gerry Leonard added a warm sense of homecoming to what was already the most perfect vibe.

Bowie had a fantastic smile, bright and infectious, and on that evening, it never left his face. He must have had his own doubts only weeks earlier as to whether he would ever go back on the road. It really felt as if the concert meant a lot to him. 

Looking back now - with the help of Google -  I’m reminded that  in the encore alone Bowie played six songs on the back of an already packed setlist. He wrapped it up with Ziggy Stardust, sending us all out into the crisp Dublin night absolutely buzzing, smiling, full of music and happy to be alive. 

I feel really lucky not only to have seen him in concert, but to have experienced that particular gig, at that point in my life and at a stage in his career when he was very comfortable in his skin.

Bowie’s final album Black Star is one of my favourite records of all time. Like many people, when I first listened to it, I didn’t know that David Bowie was dying, and that he had been dying throughout the recording. 

I felt completely absorbed into the music. It is something I had never experienced before or since. Having initially bought Black Star on CD, I then ordered it on vinyl because it felt like the right way to listen to this particular collection of songs. It was timeless and as I already said, utterly absorbing.

When Bowie died just days later, I expected to feel grief, but didn’t. Instead I felt a sense of deep peace and gratitude. My partner had lost his own battle with cancer only three months earlier and I was on autopilot, somewhat numb to the wider world. 

That album became a place where I could come to terms with everything that I was feeling, with all the depths and nuances of grief, and for that, I am most grateful. 

David Bowie’s contribution to music was immense as was his role in increasing visibility for non-mainstream gender and sexuality, his fearless freedom of visual and vocal expression and being completely true to himself and to his art. 

He paid a high price, struggling greatly with addiction and other issues. 

Personally, I will remember him as a generous artist and performer who was there at key points in my life, and as someone who gave everything to his music but always with a generous sprinkling of quirkiness and fun.