Making sense, through Bowie's Hunky Dory, of things you don't understand... For Sunday Miscellany on RTÉ Radio 1, listen to An Epiphany in Teach Bidí Neid by Conall Hamill above.
Epiphanies can occur in the unlikeliest places. The Magi had theirs in a stable in Bethlehem, James Joyce had one on Dollymount Strand and I had mine in Teach Bidí Neid in the Connemara Gaeltacht of Cor na Rón when, at the age of sixteen, a truth was revealed to me: David Bowie was definitely more talented than Showaddywaddy and possibly even Slade.
Earlier attempts to appreciate Bowie had failed. When I was thirteen, a friend whose veneration of Bowie bordered on the religious had subjected me to endless hours of his music in the hope of converting me. Unfortunately, pocket money being scarce, he owned only one record, Starman, so summer afternoons were spent in his front room in Clontarf listening and re-listening to this one single on an ancient mono record player. I liked the melody but the lyrics were beyond me. Just what did Bowie mean?
Listen to more from Sunday Miscellany here.
