The surreal scenery of North Florida: 

I had the pleasure of attending a Bowie cover show the other night, presented by Oakland punk outfit Everyone Is Dirty.  The show was held at a friend’s house in the Bywater and, in true Bowie fashion, presented a range of wildlife.  Outlined in purple light, goats trotted through the backyard.  Nibbling long cardigans, hopping on the laps of guests, they stole the show–which, despite the brave, glittering performance–made me introspective. What is this song–a hit from the 1983 “Let’s Dance”–really saying?  

Usually, I’m more into Bowie’s 70s persona.  Give me the thin white duke, pioneer of androgynous space travel.  Coke-fueled and glittering as Andy Warhol’s Factory, this is my favorite Bowie.  80s music is brilliant–we all, at some point, crave something unapologetically hoaky–but it rarely touches me on a profound level.  

Modern Love is the exception.  

Like the rest of “Let’s Dance”, the song explores a disconnect.  Like the Tindr era of today, the early 80s must have oscillated between emotionally exhausting and vaguely sociopathic: “There’s no sign of life / it’s just the power to charm.”

The song is critical–even cynical–about love.  It waxes sarcastic.  Slantingly, Bowie pokes fun at smooth existential types (“no confessions! no religion!”).  I don’t think the character in the song is worried about getting to “church on time” in the traditional sense; as in, he’s not worried about stumbling tardily into a spiritual community center.  He’s worried about modern “Church” : The capitalist cash cow, his job.  

This is how I interpret the song.  Bowie supposedly wrote the song for Little Richard, so the intended meaning of Modern Love may be much different.   A good song can withstand a number of interpretations–this is what makes a hit a hit, an ability to emotionally effect a diverse range of people.

Maybe, unlike the fated character in the song, I should, finally, wave bye-bye to modern love.  True love–for people, for my life’s work, for the planet I live on–demands a level of engagement surpassing the shrugging defeat of “things don’t really change” (Bowie begs the question: Why try?).  Things do change–and they start with us.  

A map may not always show the fastest, truest path.  It may not show a path at all. A map is a collection of symbols that are meaningless until one brings their own sense of a destination to it.  A map presents the options.  We decide the route.