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lampoest · 4 years ago

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Unfiltered thoughts watching mission impossible rouge nation inspired by @chaotically-cas

(sorry its so long my brain is all over the place)

this is also part 14 of me watching it every day :/

CURSING WARNING !! ALSO SPOILERS !!!

why is brandt first to speak

starting out with "shit" good call benji

brandt man we get the package is on the mcfucking plane

badass luther 10/10

nervous benji 10/10

that one sound effects sounds like the discord notif

why he in a fancy suit

*jumps on a plane with almost no plan on getting inside*

why did tom cruise think this was agood idea?

but like why would benji even open the ramp?

how is he not winded from that?

classic ethan

THE INTRO 1000/10

SOLOMON LANE !!

wait you can already see lane in the record shop.

how do they tell the agents these little convos?

also damn way to give it away

what if someone just looked in that room and saw the secret message?

also how did the disc get changed? because the imf definitely didnt make that

and how did lane know where he was going?

speaking of lane---

dang that man is pretty

he always sets guns down carefully

i can only see alec baldwin as trump from his snl skits so i dont take hunley seriously ;-;

damn brandt needs to step it up. man keeps letting himself be inturrupted

bruh the imf is only luck

why did no one resrict his legs?

also why is janik such an asshole?

dang she cool !!

why does it take janik so long to get that gun?

bravo-echo 1-1

this man is bleeding but decided instead of taking care of his wound he calls brandt.

i like how you actually see ethan worried and confused trying to plan his next moves. he is rarely caught off guard so it's refreshing to see his more human side

hunley spitting accusations damn bro

also a big fuck you from ethan to hunley

dang ethan is good

brandts little hidden smile

and ethan leaving trails

bitch how you sketch that good???

STAN BENJI !!

youve won, your way out of a job

benji is good

my little brandt x benji shipper in me is happy

simon pegg is such a good actor

the first time i saw this i was like: aww noooo

all dunn with that

TO THE OPERA !!!

TUX BENJI TUX BENJI

i cant tell if that was ethan

it just looks like youre talking to yourself thats more sus than using a phone

want drama? go to the opera

ok but like if you look like that im sorry you are a bad guy. thats like a stereotypical bad guy face

benji-

you can see ethan in the background of that scene

flute gun flute gun

oh no benji is in the closet. dont worry man we love you

if i were there and i just had a good vantage point i could find lane in an instant

ooh ilsa pretty

pipe gun

also pamphlet computer

those key things are cool and plausible

spiderman spiderman does whatever, ethan hunt can?

a W O M A N

what W O M A N?

reminds me of a marshmallow gun i made out if pvc pipes.

why does she not put that thing back?

also the dude loads it and then later it is unloaded

dang that guy is pretty tall.

ethan is so tiny

dis bitch is like uhh gimmie a sec to catch my breath mate

why he only dropkick people?

only 30 mins in ?!?!

the cinematography is exquisite

yes benji goin sicko mode

*gets shot* just a flesh wound

bruh i would've been so startled at that

i love how confused he is at that

ilsa saves ethan once again

they did this on the first day of filming

skdjs

ah yes random package in car = not bomb totally

if she tried to shoot benji then yes she is a bad person

but she didnt try to, she could've easily but didn't

benji being paranoid

she could just say the dude's name

benji being scared

hunley jumping to conclusions

brandt actually cares yeey

why di they approach from different sides of the street they were in the same car.

benji was far away from the sparks why he flinch?

friendship goals

oop plot dump that only mission impossible can get away with

ok...

why this mf's voice so smooth

lane is struggling with chopsticks

also lane :))))

ive chocked on my water so many times watching this scene

lanes voice :))))))

SHE RUINED HIS SUSHI WHAT THE FUCK ILSA

this man dont know what personal space is

gotta look up these peeps mbti types

casablanca references

also benji is wearing dollar store lookin glasses while ethan is wearing some fancy glasses

luther is top notch

as much as i dont like jeremy renner he delivers these lines really well

because atlee is a bitch

oh honey please, impossible is a walk in the park

benji just wants to wear a mask

id be so nervous walking through those

yes...

personal wellbeing who?

why not bring a plastic bottle full of air?

tom cruise can hold his breath for 6 minutes and he learned to do so for that scene

luther big brain

damn cctv

why did they need to break in while benji was going in?

das sus but ok

also isnt et voila french?

she just randomly tapping the ipad

benji being stressed

if he missed the exact center

i want one of those to open my locker's lock

if he just went with the current and didnt try to force his way against the water ilsa wouldn't have had to save him

imagine if he put the wrong one in-

she is breathing heavily to over saturate her body with oxygen so she can hold her breath longer

see ilsa makes it out without well and she went with the current

BENJI'S OUTFIT YESSS :))))))

no you didn't

you gave her a false sense of security

ethan's confused face for the next like 10 mins is great

liar

why does that one man look like sean ambrose?

parkour

skdjdksjdjdkfjs

the facial acting in this

STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS

the glare yesss

vrrrm vrrm

hey its you !

drivin like a grandma

shit !

benji just screaming

im convinced that ethan is indestructible

no you didn't survive that

bonk

dskfh

ethan didnt just-

also why didnt benji just tell ethan he made a copy ???

dont shoot and drive kids

high speed motorcycle chase with no helmet or leather. tom cruise, how?

i wanna learn how to drive a motorcycle

HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD YET ?!?!

the lighting

ofc brandt would be the person why sits backwards on a chair. fkn bi vibes

benji to the rescue

fuck off atlee

i am so proud of us ...

the lines are done so well here

benji lookin like how i look when my parents argue

YES THIS SCENE

LANE LANE LANE LANE LANE

im too fucking gay for this movie-

once again no personal space

*inhales* :))))))))))))))

ive like memorized the entire script of this including the music

1 man performance of m:i5 ???

benji's outfit

also i love how youre able to see the characters in the background. props for the attention to detail

i need that haircut because his hair is lookin A+

fuck you atlee

ilsa spitting straight facts

uhh ilsa he still loves julia

NO BENJI NOOOO

EW FUCK OFF JANIK NO ONE LIKES YOU

speak of the devil-

betrayal--

WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW WEATHER BOY !??

actin sus

BENJI LANE BENJI LANE

his posture shdhskhsj (i cant be talking though)

0 personal space whatsoever

why does everyone have the same haircut in this???

simon mcburney pretending to be hunt prentending to be atlee

manipulation !?

the syndicate you say ? i know a thing or two about them 😼😼😼

damn though renner delivers these lines really well

a black tie? how informal. ..

complimenting hunt right infront of him

but he really didnt

i never realized that they were on the clock for this

huh...

the lil head nod though-

HAHA YEAH FUCK YOU ATLEE

is it bad that i hate atlee more than i hate lane?

ethan big smart wrinkle brain

janik just reading a fucking magazine

ethan has a photographic memory

oh look its benji :)))

lane :))))

ethan being tough

it must be aquward to get the low angle shots

lane is running out the clock to put pressure on ethan hmmm big brain

it isnt working though :\

damn he so cocky that hes telling the villain his plan

ill give you 1/5 of the money you wanted to get my bf back

ok but like does tom cruise just not age?

kill the woman

ugh i hate janik

the trust that is shown between those two is great

yes the score and the chase are so great

also this man really hates windows for some reason

fuck off janik

sneaky sneaky

EYY ITS LANE !!!

yeyy janik is dead

once again dodging bullets and hating glass

couldve killed him but needed him alive

the glass box

badass ethan

all the pretty men assembled

lane really let himself go aster this

dang though lane is my favorite villain ever

i like how for once the girl and the guy just are friends instead of romantically involved

eyy the callbacks to how the movie started.

welcome to the imf

#benji x brandt #mission impossible rogue nation #mission impossible #ethan hunt #benji dunn #luther stickell #ilsa faust #william brandt

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theuninspirednovelist · 6 years ago

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Kitty Terror

Written for @bayneon

Thank you for being so damn kind and patient with me

Out of everything he expected, having a cat stalk him was one of the last things, honestly. Realistically, this was something unimportant, something that he would be laughed at if he told someone, something that was so absolutely ridiculous to say out loud that Thor wouldn’t even say it to himself, and yet…

…yet it was happening.

He couldn’t be sure, but he saw the cat, this specific cat, everywhere he went.

He had told himself that he was seeing things, that he the rule was getting to him and that maybe, perhaps maybe, he needed to lay off the drinks he had but no.

No matter what he thought, he ended up with the same conclusion.

He was being stalked by a cat.

It was black, the deepest shade of it, with two big round green eyes that always stayed focused on him. It stood at a distance, always, it followed him, gracefully leaping from one obstacle to another as it trailed parallel to him, sometimes anticipating where he was going.

Those were the times he was actually terrified.

He would go to a tavern or go riding with his friends and there it was, the green eyed cat, watching his every move. It had a long, graceful that that it would curl around its paws in a manner that was somehow, to Thor, threatening.

He went camping one time and woke to the cat sitting right next to the candle on the small table beside him. The sharp light on its face made it look demonic and Thor had very nearly pissed himself that night.

Of course when he sat up and rubbed his eyes, it was gone and the candle had gone out.

It could have been a dream, he told himself, but the smoke was still whispering away from the wick and his heart was pounding far too loudly for comfort.

It followed him when he was at the palace, it followed him when he tried to sleep, honestly, there were nights where he swore he felt it walking over his back as he slept.

Not that he would tell anyone.

Or at least…just anyone.

This morning, he decided to go to the one person who always seemed to have answers – even if they were snarky – for him. He listened and guided him to a path that helped him solve his problems.

Most of the time.

It was after breakfast and still relatively early so Loki was bound to be in his chambers. There was no other place he liked as much and when he entered, he did so quietly, looking around in case that cat was around.

Something Loki immediately pointed out

“Well, look who finally learned how to open doors” he said snidely “should I be worried?”

Thor snorted “No, I didn’t wish to disturb you”

“How kind” Loki said, still lost in the book he was reading “What do you need, Thor? I am busy”

“I know, I just…need help” Thor said, feeling his cheeks prickle a little bit in embarrassment “it’s a strange problem I have”

“Oh?”

Loki closed the book and turned to give Thor his undivided, scrutinizing attention

“What’s wrong?”

Thor parted his lips to speak, the words were at the end of his tongue, but he shook his head

“Actually, never mind, I am likely being paranoid”

He spun around to leave but came to a dead stop when Loki’s magic closed and bolted his doors shut.

“You’ve disturbed my peace and will not leave will you tell me” Loki said, arms crossed over his chest “tell me”

Thor’s heavy shoulders sagged when he heaved a loud sigh, then turned to look at Loki, his gaze almost afraid.

“I fear I am being tricked by something”

Loki frowned “What do you mean?”

“Something is following me around” Thor clarified “I know I am not imagining it, I thought I was, but it is far too common to be a coincidence”

“Something is following you around?” Loki asked “you mean a spirit”

“Perhaps”

Thor came to sit in one of Loki’s benches and sighed “Not exactly a spirit, something like that”

“Speak plainly, Thor, as you can see, it is only I who is here with you” Loki said sternly

“A cat” Thor said “I am being followed by a cat”

There was silence for a few long seconds, then Loki pulled his lips inwards, trying not to smile

“You’re laughing at me” Thor droned

Loki shook his head, his face flushing as he controlled himself

“Yes, you are, I can hear you snickering” Thor stood “so aye, forget it”

He turned to go and Loki went after

“No, no, Thor I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing!”

He was still grinning and Thor growled

“It was a mistake coming here” Thor opened the door, thankful that Loki let him “Goodbye, brother”

“Thor!” Loki called, stopping when Thor slammed the door closed.

Snickering, still, Loki stood there a moment, then went back to his work, trying not to think overmuch about this

Outside, Thor was cursing himself for being stupid and crossed the halls to go towards the training arena. He could hear the warriors battling it out on the field and felt a little at ease when he took his spot in his usual balcony, overlooking the fights taking place.

And in response to their future king watching them, the warriors improved their stance and fight, pretending they hadn’t seen him.

He liked the attention and smiled, setting his arms down on the bannister as he watched and tried to get the meeting with Loki out of his head.

Something landed on his back and Thor froze when he heard a very familiar meow.

Immediately, he spun, trying to bat the cat off, yelping when he felt it get stuck in his cape

“Get off!”

He twisted and turned around in circles, trying to get it off and in the back of his head, he heard the fighting and sparring stop, but didn’t pay mind to it. He could feel the cat on him and he clawed at the cape, shaking, jumping, leaping into the air to get it off!

The cat was still on him!

“Off!”

Thor yanked his cape over his head and threw it aside, panting in effort, glaring at the offending thing.

There was silence all around and slowly, Thor turned to see everyone looking at him.

He felt his face prickle with shame and chagrin

“I …”

He stopped the attempt altogether when they just nodded and started to go back to their training, leaving him standing there, with no cape, no cat and no dignity.

*** And that was only the beginning ***

Thor made a face as he stepped into something wet, cold and kind of squishy. He didn’t want to look down but he had to and so he took all the courage he had as a warrior to peek at the thing underneath his foot.

“Oh Norns no,” he said as he saw the dead mouse or what was left of it on the floor. It wasn’t the first time this had happened and he feared it wouldn’t be the last.

For the past two weeks he had been stalked by this cat; and he swore to all Norns that this beast was sent by Hel herself to torment him. Hopping on one leg he made his way into the bathroom to clean the mess off his foot.

“This is so disgusting,” he muttered as he scrubbed his foot clean before checking his boots and slipping his foot inside.

Three days ago that little spawn of Hel had put a mouse in there and he had ruined one of his favorite pair by squishing the dead rodent inside. It had been one of the most unpleasant sensations he'd ever felt in his life, feeling that cold, horrid feeling between his toes and over the ball of his foot. It had him shudder in disgust till the next morning, where his brother smiled and snickered at his misfortune but offered no solution to it! He was sure that he would do the same today because they were to have lunch with their parents. Loki would look at him with that twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips, laughing inwardly when Thor told him of this disgusting, awful incident. He would get his father and mother to laugh, too, no doubt! And yet, he couldn't not share this awful story, there was nothing he wanted more than for someone to give him a solution because honest to Norns, his training didn't tell him how to fight against a very small, very clever cat.

Once he made it to the dining room and sat down at the table with his family. Loki looked up from the book he was reading and smirked at his brother, “you look rather annoyed Thor.” He'd set the book aside to give him his full attention, which indicated that he was very well aware of why Thor was upset, but seemed to want him to say it out loud. The older prince scoffed, “That stupid furball has brought me another dead present.”

Loki snickered, “you know when cats bring you their prey they think you are a terrible hunter.” Thor angrily grabbed a piece of bread and tore it into two smaller pieces.

“I am the greatest hunter there is,” he told Loki "You know this" "Not better than the cat, apparently" Loki rolled his eyes Thor growled and chewed on the bread, “And I will catch that pest, mark my words"

Loki gave him a disbelieving look "Cat, you mean pests are slightly more notorious than an adorable, furry pet" Thor crushed the bread in his hand and Loki smirked as he had a drink

***

Another incident occurred when Thor was happily talking to one of the ladies at court. She was sweet, soft and supple; and by the looks she gave him, she was very interested in him.

Something Thor reciprocated.

It didn’t take long for Thor to take her to Idunn’s private orchards and go on about the delicacy that were her apples.

“Would you like one?” Thor asked, casually leaning against a tree “They’re very good”

A gentle reminder that one could get these apples by royal permission only had her excited and before long, Thor was cutting an apple in half for her as she hovered close by. They shared the apple and once it was gone, they shared sweet kisses under the tree as Thor pressed her against it.

He didn’t expect her to start screaming.

Thor blinked, thinking he’d stepped on her foot and an apology was at his lip when he saw a black ball of rug and rage leap at and sink its claws into her skirt. She spun around and the cat went with, hissing and spitting at her, tail puffed in rage, ears pulled back. It’s green eyes were insane with jealously as it scratched and bit at every bit of skin it could reach and Thor was shaken out of his shock by something very strange.

He’d seen this jealousy before.

His face contorted into anger and Thor lashed out, grabbed the cat by the scruff and pulled it off the screaming woman, who went to weep behind Thor, shielding herself from the beast.

“Loki!” Thor shook the animal “This has better not be you, Brother, I am going to strangle you if is it!”

The cat blinked at him, green eyes wide and dark. Its tail was still puffed up, it’s paws curled to its chest as he stared at him for a second.

And then

It spoke

“I did not expect myself to be this easily caught” Loki’s smooth, silky voice said

Thunder erupted above him and Thor let out a shout as the cat turned into smoke and vanished from his grip, leaving behind nothing but shame and anger and a desire to smack Loki as hard as he could.

Not that he managed to do that.

He’d reached Loki’s doors when a portal opened beneath his feet and Thor yelped as he was taken from Asgard and dropped into a crater on Midgard.

And where he sat, perched on his bannister, his tail waving behind him, his big green eyes filled with mischief and promise for more, Loki let out a contented purr and went back into the palace.

With Thor gone, his father was prime for his next series of attacks.

Shout out to @nijura108 who was critical in this.

#thor #loki #lmao #fic

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caredogstips · 7 years ago

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David Bowie: “the mens” who thrilled “the worlds”

From glam to neo-soul to his mysterious final album, David Bowie remained one pace onward throughout a prophetic vocation that pushed sex and social boundaries. Alexis Petridis honours a bright enigma

When David Bowies final book, Blackstar, was exhausted on 8 January, a great deal of energy was expended trying to unpick the melodics. As on its precede, 2013 s The Next Day, or any number of classic Bowie albums from Hunky Dory to Station to Station, they were frequently dense and allusive: a great deal of attention concentrates on the claim racetrack, which one of Blackstars backing musicians, saxophonist Donny McCaslin, claimed was about the rise of Isis, a suggestion Bowies spokesperson subsequently denied. Now, with the insight that Bowie was terminally ill during its building, the most striking concept about the book is how elegiac it routinely sounds. If I never see the English evergreens Im guiding to, its good-for-nothing to me, he sang on Dollar Days. Supposing no, but symbolizing yes, this is all I ever symbolized, thats the word that I transmitted, led the closing I Cant Give Everything Away. Most apprehension of all is Lazarus: Seem at me, Im in heaven. Ive went scars that cant see now, Ive get drama cant be stolen; everybody knows me now.

Most parties is of the view that Lazarus was written from the point of view of Thomas Newton, the alien Bowie showed in Nicolas Roegs The Man Who Fell to Earth: it was the deed line of an off-Broadway musical based on the 1976 cinema. Now it feels suspiciously like Bowie writing his own elegy, asserting his own glory, immense aesthetic importance and inimitability for decades, other artists tried to mimic David Bowie, but none of them were really anything like him while wryly pointing out that, after practically 50 years in the spotlight, hed somehow managed to retain a sense of whodunit.

Something unknowable hidden at the centre David Bowie at Hammersmith Odeon in 1973. Picture: Ilpo Musto/ Rex Features

Dozens of works have been written about him, some of them tremendously illuminating, but something unknowable lurked at the centre. Almost from the start, Bowies career raised questions to which a definite answer seemed elusive. If he was, as he aloud claimed in 1971, lesbian, then what was the is being dealt with the very visible bride and the son hed merely written a stroking little song about? If he was, as he dramatically announced from the stage of the Hammersmith Odeon in July 1973, withdrawing either from music, or from live execution, or from the character of Ziggy Stardust then what was he doing back onstage in London three months later, belting out The Jean Genie in full Ziggy drag? How does anyone in the nation Bowie was, by all reports, in by 1975 ruined by cocaine to the point where he seemed to have genuinely extended crazed; paranoid and fantasizing make an book like Station to Station: not a messily compelling certificate of a mind unravelling, like the solo album of his great idol Syd Barrett, but a occupation of precision and focus and exquisitely limited supremacy thats arguably his best? In a world-wide of cameraphones and social media, how could anyone as famed as Bowie vanish from public view as entirely as he seemed to between 2008 and 2013: moreover, how could anyone as famous as Bowie record a comeback album in the middle of Manhattan without anyone notice or leaking details to the media? How does anyone stage-manage their own extinction as dramatically as Bowie appears to have done: secreting their most acclaimed book in decades, fitted with strange, mysterious hymns whose making unexpectedly pulls into focus when their writer croaks 2 days later?

It was a spectacular end to a profession that began inauspiciously. Bowie wasted the 60 s trying to fit in with prevalent tendencies, something to which he was uniquely ill-suited: he didnt make for a atrociously convincing blues-influenced rocknroller, or hippy troubadour, or MOR singer-songwriter, just as two decades later, he wouldnt make for a abysmally persuading mainstream stadium-rock ace, trapped in what he subsequently called the netherworld of commercial-grade following.

Tellingly, the first truly enormous sung he wrote focused on the outsider: registered at the height of Swinging London, 1966 s The London Boys offered up the periods pessimistic flipside, a monochrome drama of poverty, amphetamine psychosis, grimy bedsits and coffeehouse. Even when he ultimately had a strike, with 1969 s Space Oddity, his success seemed far from ensure. For all the hymns eerie greatnes, the public clearly thought of it as a originality preserve, capitalising on the moon arrives: they declined to buy its follow-up, The Prettiest Star, or the accompanying eponymous book. All along, however, Bowie was picking up ideas he would subsequently pull into focus. His then-manager Ken Pitt established him to the Velvet Underground, whose bia, avant-garde inclinations and transgressive subject matter would resound throughout Bowies career: you are able to discover echoes of their tumultuous resound in everything from the feedback-laden glam boulder of 1973 s Aladdin Sane to the wilfully synthetic racket he created up on 1977 s Heroes to the sonic hubbub of Blackstars Tis a Pity She Was a Whore. He tried to incorporate what hed learned studying pantomime under Lindsay Kemp into his stage behave, which knocked off a fruitful infatuation with describing plans from other areas of the arts movies, theater, literature, fad into rock music.

As the 70 s dawned, he found the perfect musical foil in guitarist Mick Ronson and his songwriting went better and better 1971 s Hunky Dory was as rich and brilliant a accumulation of chants as he ever wrote but almost no one noticed. The closest Hunky Dory came to commercial success was when Oh! You Pretty Events built No 12, kindnes of a jaunty, prim cover version by Peter Noone toothsome former frontman of the 60 s least-threatening wizards, Hermans Hermits which was clearly some distance from the seismic rupture Bowie had predicted on the books opening racetrack Changes: Ogle out, you rocknrollers!

How he made them discover was via one of “the worlds largest” bold plays in stone record. Infatuated with the Velvet Undergrounds world of lag queens and sneering, spiteful putdowns, Bowie seemed to realise that, for all the generation-gap-rendering sickens that British rock music had given over the predating decade, it had never truly dared touch on the subject of homosexuality. Beyond the thanks-but-no-thanks story of the Kinks Lola, there were only gazing comments, so oblique as to be the stuff of rumour rather than knowledge: Examine Your best friend, likewise by the Kinks, the Beatles Youve Got to Conceal Your Love Away, Donovans To Try for the Sun. Tellingly, the journalist to whom he came out as bisexual, Michael Watts, didnt seem to have been atrociously persuaded: Mmmmmm, he answered doubtfully, despite the fact that Bowie had already posed on the extend of 1970 s The Boy Who Sold the World wearing a men dress, and larded the melodics of The Width of a Circle and Queen Bitch with intimations of homosexual meetings.

It didnt matter. The interview depicted enough attention that the launching of his next album and its associate persona, Ziggy Stardust the latter debuted a fortnight eventually in the unpromising environs of the Toby Jug pub in Tolworth felt like an affair. The force was electrified farther by his appearance on Top of the Pops in July 1972, arguably “the worlds largest” celebrated three minutes of music video ever broadcast in the UK. Listen to a bootleg of Bowie performing live in Aylesbury the preceding year and he clangs nervous and uncertain; on Top of the Pops, he seemed imperious. Theres a contact of Lord Kitchener about the moment Bowie placed down the camera as he sang the line: I had to phone person so I picked on you. He looks like a person banking an horde of teenage misfits. No substance how strange and alien you experienced, you couldnt be as weird and alien as Bowie and his bandmates appeared: Youre not alone, gives people your hands, youre remarkable, he sang on the accompanying album.

It facilitated that Ziggy Stardust was the right evidence for the moment. The standard pipeline is that glam stone represented a diversion from the sadnes of early-7 0s life, a glittery space-age dreamworld in which you could conceal from rising unemployment, industrial unrest and terrorism. But The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars is riven with dread and repugnance, involved in what the columnist Francis Wheen afterward called the collective nervous breakdown of the 1970 s. Even at its most escapist, it underlined what you might be fleeing from: Joanie went to fight in Belfast, Judy stayed at home to deprive, opened the rocknroll fantasy of Star. As hour wore on and Bowie became an ever-more influential and dominant person capable of reactivating others careers at a blow his music get more dense and apocalyptic. By the time of 1974 s Diamond Dogs, it resounded so decadent and diseased and shocking that it was hard to work out where Bowie could possibly go next.

As it turned out, he was just getting started on a series of musical displacements so brilliantly executed they seemed to draw the rest of pop music along in their aftermath. If his early 70 s albums notified punk a genre heavily staffed by boys whod been galvanised by his 1972 Pinnacle of the Pops appearance then the plastic feeling and electronic experimentations of his late 70 s albums foretold a vast sum of what happened after punk. Fairly aside from his willingness to reinvent himself so dramatically, it seems a miracle his fans kept up it might as well have been a completely different creator, said one devotee who evidenced both the glammy, theatrical early years and the funk-inspired subsequently demoes of the 1974 tour that finally built him a star in America.

What was striking was how thoroughly Bowie could impose himself on different genres, how he had been able to take other peoples ideas and twist them until they seemed entirely his own. 1975 s Young Americans was entered at Sigma Sound, home of the yummy string-laden mind liberated on Philadelphia International, but it didnt sound like a Philly soul record. Preserved with Brian Eno, 1977 s Low and Heroes were obviously in thrall to the music of German experimentalists Kraftwerk and Neu !, but they didnt sound much like Kraftwerk or Neu !. They reverberated like David Bowie, even when they seemed nothing like David Bowie had entered before.

There was a lovely circularity about the liberation of 1980 s Scary Monsters( and Super Creeps) and its accompanying No 1 single, Ashes to Ashes, at the height of the New Romantic movement hed almost singlehandedly inspired: public confirmation that Bowie was the most important and influential artist since the Beatles. But the 80 s were to prove a more problematic decade than that suggested. His vocation in the 70 s had been scarred by bad business deals: formerly he was out of a contract with Tony DeFries that entitled his former manager to 16% of his earnings until 1982, Bowie seemed determined to make money. He succeeded 1983 s Serious Moonlight tour sold 2.6 m tickets but, as he subsequently admitted, his artistry sustained. Tells Dance released in 1983, and his biggest collision book with 7m sales had its moments. The subsequent fiscal year Tonight, nonetheless, did not.

The most important an influential master since the Beatles Bowie on stagecoach in Paris, 1987. Picture: Catherine Cabrol/ Kipa/ Corbis

By the activities of the decade resolve, Bowie seemed aware that something used to go amis. He tried to kickstart his muse: by wording a heavy rock-and-roll strip, Tin Machine; by announcing that he would no longer play old cloth in concert; by reconnecting with collaborators whod stimulation him on in the past, including Brian Eno and Mick Ronson; by dipping in the voguish dance genre of drumnbass. He rarely reached brilliant registers not least 1995 s impassable but reinforcing Outside but nothing accorded what hed achieved in the 70 s. Surely, by the mid-9 0s, his real innovations seemed to be happening away from the recording studio: he secreted a download-only single in 1996, nine years before iTunes. He cleared himself available to followers on the messageboard of his website, signalling the 360 -degree connectivity that artists are about to indulge in in the age of Twitter and Facebook, and which he himself shunned absolutely during the years before his death.

By the early noughties, he seemed to be settling into the life of a heritage rock ace: construct well-received albums that knowingly referenced his past, playing classic books in their entirety, seeming to tacitly declare both the scope of his influence and that his greatest achievements were behind him. Its a pragmatic approaching thats served everyone from Paul McCartney to Iggy Pop well, but it sat uneasily with Bowie. His music “ve never” wallowed in nostalgia. It had been iconoclastic and antagonistic towards the past( my brothers at home with his Beatles and his Stones what a draw, hed written on 1972 s All the Young Dudes ): it was about the present, or better still, the future. It was triggered by disaster surgery on a blocked artery, but his retirement into semi-retirement after 2003 s Reality made a strange various kinds of feel.

Most sees presumed it was permanent. Instead, he unexpectedly reappeared in 2013 with Where Are We Now ?. The song only appeared on the internet on his 66 th birthday, without advance advertisement or fanfare, its writer waning to give interviews: in its own practice, as brash a move as the interview he threw the Melody Maker in 1972. The precede album, The Next Day, wasnt thousands and thousands of miles removed from the books hed been attaining before his sabbatical solid songwriting, lots of remarks to Bowies past, but its follow-up was something else exclusively. On freeing, Blackstar reverberated singularly like the type of confident, decide break with his past Bowie remained diverting out at the high levels of his superpowers: the thrillingly exploratory jazz-influenced tone had as little to do with the music on The Next Day as the being of Young Americans had with the glam books that predated it. It clanged like a new beginning. As it turned out, “its been” the exact opposite: it was a departing, a mystify, filled with clues no one picked up on, that would suddenly be solved by his death. David Bowie used to go the way he spent most of his vocation: unknowable, one gradation ahead of everyone else.

Alexis Petridiss picking of Bowie

Theres no part in an attempt to make a definitive 20 song Bowie playlist. Theres over half a century of wildly diverse work there: it isnt going to be neatly summed up in 20 ballads without glaring omissions, whole the sectors of what he did left untouched. So this is an unashamedly personal collection, in chronological order.