While most Bowie biographies (notably Alias David Bowie, Peter & Leni Gillman's 1986 exposé of family mental illness and the Bowie "myth") are as welcome to the singer as reminders of his ghastly mid-80s albums, Strange Fascination is the first book the notoriously private character has officially sanctioned. What this means is that Buckley (author of the non-biographical The Complete Music Of David Bowie) has been allowed access to several "inner circle" members (such as guitarists Carlos Alomar and Adrian Belew), but not, you notice, any of the hordes that have been excommunicated by the singer.
From the off, Buckley admits that the myth itself interests him rather than the tabloid-y exposés of what he snootily calls "the other biographies" (which focus on the former Bromley resident's personal life), and skips over Bowie's early days in the "emotionally sub-zero household", to offer infuriatingly brief insights into the psychological carnage which certainly informed a phenomenal talent. However, once that talent explodes with the Man Who Sold The World and Hunky Dory albums, so does the book, to the point where this is easily the best book written on the music, rather than the man.
Buckley asserts that Bowie is not and has never been a rocker, and analyses the roles of music hall and theatre in constructing the 20th century's first alter-ego anti-hero: part therapist, part post-modernist, supreme fabricator and, thus, seismic influence on pop. When Buckley gets to grips with the lyrics (at one point clinically deconstructing four lines of Changes), as well as the composition, construction and political, financial and career intrigue surrounding the songs' inception, he manages the ultimate achievement of any rock biog and sends you scuttling back to the records.
Revelations are few, but we learn that the Ziggy Stardust concept was "bolted on to the sessions halfway through the album", and, on a rare personal note, that the Thin White Duke's cocaine use lingered far longer than has been acknowledged. There are equally fascinating explorations into the role of Bowie's mysterious personal assistant, Coco Schwab, almost convincing insistences that Bowie's legendary ruthlessness is all part of his ceaseless musical quest, and sympathetic insights into why DB has found the plot so hard to fathom since 1983.
If the book has a failing it is that a few newer tabloidy personal details wouldn't have gone amiss (Buckley raves about the 52-year-old's physical perfection, but fails to even mention the rumours surrounding that body's upkeep), but that's probably not the point. As an exploration into the "real life" David Jones it is almost useless, but as a critique-cum-re-establishment of the David Bowie character Jones is still playing with aplomb, "definitive" is pretty much it.
