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The twinkling embers flew up into the night sky; illuminating the dark and desolate field in Auckland. The towering, 8 legged beast that was once a gaudy set piece was engulfed in flames.
The Glass Spider tour has concluded. 96 shows all over the world; theatrics, storytelling, all below this gigantic design. And this is the last anyone will ever see of it. Burnt to the ground.
Bowie looked in suppressed awe, breathing a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief…” he says, turning to look at the crewmates behind him. “This is all safe right?”
“Inside the fencing, yes.” A crewmate replied. Bowie nods his head and looks back to the scene in front of him. “Perfect. Thank you, you go ahead and ride with the rest of the crew…” he slightly tilts his head back. “…I’ll be riding along in a minute.” The crewmates nod. “Alright Boss.” One of them mutters.
Bowie leans down and sits on the ground, knees in arms, looking at the burning spider. You’re standing right beside him. There’s been a certain sadness in his eyes, ever since the last leg of the tour, and you can’t exactly read what’s been eating him. You also sit down right next to him, legs crossed, looking at him.
“Everything ok?” You ask. He looks at you, slightly startled, and smiles. “Oh yeah! I’m fine Y/N, I’m just…I’m happy that it’s over.” He chuckles, making you smile. “Yeah, I don’t wanna do anything after this!” You both chuckle. “Yeah, well rest yourself, because I’m sure I’ll be coming back in the next 5 years!” You laugh and he grins at you for a bit before turning back to the fire. “Definitely won’t be as extravagant as this…”
Your smile drops and you look over at the fire as well. “Yeah…” silence befalls the two of you, the only noise being the crackling of the flames.
“Do you remember 10 years ago, Y/N?”
You look back over at him and smile. “Yes, quite vividly. My first taste of the limelight! I felt like I was the queen of the world.” Bowie gave a soft smile; eyes unwavering from the fire. “I remember that too. I remember taping that Top of the Pops performance and watching it over and over again; you had so much fire and color in you Y/N!” You giggle, flushed by the compliments from Bowie. “Sounds like you were obsessed with me!” You say, laughing.
“In a way, I was.” Bowie says, looking at you. “But you also inspired me Y/N. You inspired my music, I remember the edge in your words, the sheer force of which the drums were being hit; it’s all still there, in my head.” You both look into each other’s eyes, his slightly puffy and cloudy. It could be the smoke, but his eyes don’t hide anything. You know what’s up with him. He looks back ahead.
“10 years ago I made Low and Heroes. 2 out of the 3 of the best works I’ve ever made. I put my very soul into the Berlin Trilogy. I didn’t know if anyone was gonna feel those albums like I did. I didn’t know if it was gonna succeed. But I had to make them.”
Silence grows again between you too, before you finally gather the courage to ask him what’s been on your mind for ages. “David, I’ve noticed you’ve been down ever since this leg of the tour. I don’t know if you feel comfortable telling me what happened; and you don’t have to tell me, but I’ve just been worried about you.”
Bowie sighed and took a deep breath. “People didn’t like the album. They REALLY didn’t like it.” You look at him in confusion. “Is that it? That’s what’s been bothering you this whole time?” Bowie nods.
“So screw them! People didn’t like Low when it came out and you didn’t care then! Why now?” Bowie didn’t respond, his head looking down at his knees. “Listen, they didn’t like it? So what! You don’t make music for them. You never have. So what if they don’t pick up on your feelings, so what if they don’t get it; it doesn’t matter! You use music in a way that not many people have been able to pull off successfully, you are a free musician; you make what you want and do what you want. You make music for yourself-“
“I didn’t make this for myself!” Bowie replied, his teary eyes looking at you. “I didn’t make this album for myself. I didn’t make Tonight for myself, Let’s Dance was supposed to be a one off, but now all of a sudden everyone accepts me now! “Bowie’s cool when he’s doing New Wave!” “Bowie’s cool when he’s not dying his hair red and pretending to be a space alien on stage!”… “Bowie’s cool when he’s pretending to be straight.”…”
Bowie gets up and points at the engulfed set. “That is what I’ve become. A tacky, directionless mess of nothing but fake and inoffensive sound!” Bowie bursts into tears and weeps, his clenched fist at his forehead.
You get up off the ground and go over to him. Bowie lowers his hand from his head, and you hug him. You’re both silent, minus the sniffling from Bowie; until Bowie takes a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-“
“It’s ok, it’s ok David.” You both bask in the presence of each other, feeding in each other’s energies. “I don’t know what to do Y/N…” Bowie says. “It’s been 7 years since I’ve made an album I could be proud of. I’ve connected my value as an artist to what other people think of me. And I don’t know how to get away…”
“What do I do Y/N?” Bowie looks at you with pleading eyes, looking for any sort of answer. And you give him one. “I can’t tell you what to do. Your fans can’t tell you what to do. No one can tell you. Do whatever you think you need to do. Do what you WANT to do, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”
You look into each other’s souls, feeling your love and passion for one another. Bowie kisses you, and you return the favor, sharing a kiss in front of the burning spider that was once looming over him. You break away from each other and stare at it well in each other’s arms. “Thank you Y/N.” Bowie says, looking back at you. “You never have to thank me.” You both kiss again and finally leave the Spider to its end; and thus leaving an era of uncertainty and dread.