News of David Bowie’s death sent seismic shockwaves around the world, especially throughout the entertainment industry where so many designers, technicians, and managers had their lives enriched by working with him. Live Design has reached out to the galaxy of lighting designers who illuminated his tours, and it reads like a who’s who—Jules Fisher, Eric Barrett, Allen Branton, Willie Williams, LeRoy Bennett, Tom Kenny—all of whom have shared a few thoughts about working with the extraordinary David Bowie, a talent that was extinguished way too soon—to borrow a phrase—like a candle in the wind. Cut to black.
Jules Fisher
(Diamond Dogs, 1974)
In early 1974, I was invited to visit David at his flat in London: plush and elegant, but no evidence of the typical extremes of the era. In a relaxed mode, we discussed our mutual desire to bring “theatre” to rock ‘n’ roll performance. I believed that the creative crafts, scenery, costume, lighting, staging, and direction could make the experience more potent; he was open to all. I flew in scenic designer Mark Ravitz, and they hit it off well. David was immersed in German expressionism, notably the films The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligary, Metropolis, and M. Together we tried to extend this to the stage/arena. Whatever bizarre ideas we brought to him were embraced. The set had off-kilter skyscrapers that were covered in printed paper for him to tear down at the end of the show; a walking bridge with three street lamps for him to sing under, which then lowered to the stage level; a chair 18' in the air with him in it that came out of one building to pivot forward over the first rows of the audience while singing “Major Tom”; a 10'-high mirror-covered box that robotically drove on stage and then opened up to reveal David seated within dozens of ultraviolet fluorescent tubes. He was not just a singer on stage; he was an actor.
He was collaborative and respectful. He knew what he wanted and was driven. He went into a cocoon when he was barraged with sycophants, although he may have fostered their involvement.
From a lighting standpoint, it was all accomplished with incandescent PAR 64s, 750W Lekos, and a few handheld Sunguns, three onstage followspots, and four front followspots supplied by the house. Everything was floor-supported; no rigging was involved. It set up in one day.
In sum, he was surrounded in a production that allowed him to place each of his songs in a storytelling environment. He was a wonderful collaborator. He brought theatre to the arenas.
I did not know at the time he was “David Bowie.”
- Jules Fisher
Eric Barrett
(Station to Station, aka White Light Tour, 1976)
I was indeed the designer for David Bowie. I spent eight years with him as his tour manager, from the Diamond Dogs Tour to the Serious Moonlight Tour, and I designed Station To Station (White Light Tour).
My heart broke on the morning I woke up to so many emails and text messages informing me of David’s death. I cried for a week, and I’m still not over it. He was a genius, a brilliant, brilliant man. Just last year, I had been sending e-mails via Carlos Alomar to give David my love and to tell him that, if he toured this year, I wanted my old job as tour manager. RIP David. You will never be forgotten.
- Eric Barrett
Allen Branton
(Serious Moonlight/Tin Machine, 1983 and Glass Spider, 1987)
After a long career during which one is blessed to see innumerable gifted performers up close, it is awkward when asked which one (or ones) are the favorites. Nevertheless, when asked, without hesitation, I blurt out: David Bowie. That’s been my standard answer for over 30 years.
David entered my life in the spring of 1983, as I had been chosen to design lighting for his Serious Moonlight Tour. I had been fortunate to work tours with Diana Ross, Mick Jagger, and others prior to this, thus imagining I knew something about lighting a dynamic performer in concert. As my cherished mentor, Kirby Wyatt, often said, “Just goes to show how wrong you can be.”
The Oxford English Dictionary defines “bearing” as “...manner of carrying oneself, bodily attitude.” Further, the OED defines “style” (in part) as “…excellence of manner.” As a concert performer, there has never been anyone remotely his equal. During the three-plus weeks of that 1983 rehearsal, I slowly, inexorably was seduced to relegate his wonderful, poetic music to second place in my thoughts, second place behind his seemingly effortless mastery of the stage. The end result was a show that was built, cue by cue, to support the physical presence of this artful man.
Though I’ve not seen his equal, Bowie has caused me to be alert and willing to find it all these years. All artists have this knack in little bursts, and when they open that door, I run joyfully through it, his influence everlasting.
- Allen Branton
Willie Williams
(Serious moonlight/Tin Machine, 1989 and Sound + Vision, 1990)
I worked with David Bowie for three years, having been invited to design the lighting for his Sound + Vision tour and also working on his Tin Machine club tours. This was absolutely the best of both worlds: seeing Bowie perform every song you’d ever want to hear amid a huge multimedia spectacular, then watching him gleefully make guitar noise in tiny clubs while the world at large assumed he’d lost his marbles.
I never lost sight of the enormous privilege of spending so much time with him in so many implausible situations: a lad from Sheffield hanging out with Picasso; just the two of us in the front lounge of a tour bus driving into Amsterdam at dawn; on an airplane, telling me stories about Marc Bolan to distract himself from his fear of flying; trying to learn the German lyrics to Heroes for his first show in East Berlin after the wall came down; his extraordinary ability to become invisible in public when he didn’t want to be noticed; coming to the mix position because it was “the only place in America to get a decent cup of tea”; being in a New York nightclub with him and Lou Reed and feeling like I was in a Mick Rock photograph.
A favorite memory: spending a couple of weeks in a tiny theatre in St. Malo in France, rehearsing for the Tin Machine Tour. Traditionally in this situation, the crew and creatives would have the morning alone in the venue preparing for an afternoon rehearsal. David, however, had just become reacquainted with his saxophone so he sought out time to practice by himself, which he did in the theatre each morning. He would apologize to us saying how dreadful it must be to have to listen to him squawking away, but I loved every moment, watching myself from space, going about my morning work with God sitting in a corner, trying to improve himself on a saxophone.
It was the personal things that were most impressive, though. He seemed to be acutely aware that some people, particularly Brits about my age, might likely become catatonic in his presence and genuinely went out of his way to put them at ease. Throughout the 25 years following my tenure with him, in the handful of times we ran into each other, he’d always know me, remember my name, be pleased to see me. He was a deeply remarkable human being.
-Willie Williams
LeRoy Bennett
(Outside with Nine Inch Nails, 1995)
In 1995, I designed David Bowie’s Outside Tour with Nine Inch Nails. Once that tour was finished, he split off from Nine Inch Nails and did a European tour on his own. Gary Westcott continued on with David to do those dates. Unfortunately, I wasn’t available, already booked when it was decided. The joint tour was an interesting political challenge. Both camps, rightfully, demanded and required a lot of attention. To equally service both of them at the same level was quite a challenge. It was an awesome concept: David was really interested in what Trent was doing, and Trent had a lot of respect for David. There was a lot of mutual respect, but it was turbulent at times.
It was a seamless show that went from NIN to Bowie, as they would segue from one to the other, pulling some musicians off and putting some others on as the bands transitioned, doing each other’s songs: David on NIN songs and Trent playing on Bowie songs. I was very lucky to be able to work on that tour. David’s performance was amazing, but it was mostly a NIN audience. Most kids in the audience were there for Trent and started to exit, so that was sad. The whole Nine Inch Nails show was an interesting combo of elements. David’s set was very artsy, like a painter’s studio. NIN had a backdrop that covered David’s set and looked like a straight jacket. The lighting featured PAR cans in hanging pods over the bands’ heads with ropes on them to swing them around. It was low-tech but interesting. There were also some Vari-Lites for a combination of old school/new school, like analog/digital.
I was a huge fan from the moment David Bowie appeared on the scene in the ‘70s. He changed my life, really, and showed me what rock ‘n’ roll was about. For me, it was theatrical rock ‘n’ roll in a very deep, emotional way at times, very atmospheric, about fashion, glam, cross-gender, everything that twisted that world that had been normal. As soon as I heard his music I said, “Wow, what is this?” He was a timeless artist who created timeless music. His persona on stage was much further out, like his music. I’ve never seen another artist with such presence on stage. You felt like, “Oh my God, he’s looking straight through me.” Working with David was amazing. He came to me with a basic concept and let me run with it. He was an amazing collaborator and a very cool person. I had just flown back from Beijing the day he died, and I got a text about what happened. I landed and went to a meeting and got home about 9pm. Then it hit me really hard. I was sobbing, and it reminded me how time is ticking, and it doesn’t stop.
-LeRoy Bennett
Gary Westcott
(Lighting and video director 1995-1999)
My time working with David Bowie began with The Outside Tour with David and Nine Inch Nails co-headlining together in 1995. I was enlisted as programmer for the show and lighting director for David Bowie by the tour production designer, LeRoy Bennett. It was an exciting time for live music and the meeting of minds of two of the most venerated and celebrated artists of their time. It was especially heightened by the fact that I was going to work with one of my teenage musical idols.
After the Initial tour with DB and NIN, David asked me to continue on as his designer, collaborator, and lighting director with the Outside Tour. David and I revised LeRoy’s original design, adding new elements an assemblage of props, flying orbs of ACL’s (Hello Spaceboy), flown panels of Versa-Tubes (a nod to the White Light Tour), mannequins, and ropes. The original design had roll drops of fabric that David would release during random parts of the show, thus creating a ceiling of textures. David’s approach was always theatrical and he liked the idea of making each piece of music its own individual environment. We often talked of color, light, and darkness and its reference to the emotion of the piece that was being lit. After the extensive Outside Tour, which visited many varied venues, from clubs like Barrowlands in Glasgow to headlining festivals around the world, including Rockpalast and the Phoenix Festival, came The Earthling Tour.
For this, David wanted to include video elements and add new textures and imagery into the show. He wanted to paint the stage with imagery and found elements and have the ability to change the content quickly, spur of the moment, and to ad lib during the show. David wanted to have a different set list based on club and concert environment. We sometimes played secret shows billed as “Tao Jones Index,” which leaned heavily on drum and bass remixes. I designed a video system using Clay Paky modified moving mirror heads attached to 2kW video projectors. Three video scanners were placed downstage to project video onto the band members and the stage set. We also had three large-format projectors to cover the straightjacket backdrop that was used as a screen surface, which was broken up with rear and from lighting, too. This allowed us three individual screens or one continuous canvas as a backdrop. Part of the stage set also featured soft heads and mannequins that were inspired by Tony Oursler with video loops of band members faces. David’s concept was to have everything run on off the shelf consumer type technology and be able to ad lib freely during the show.
We put together a system using multiple small vision mixers, laser disk player’s playback for quick cueing, and layers of ArKaos video manipulation driven by a Midi keyboard and the lighting console. Many of the songs featured David’s archival video art pieces and his photos as well as some images taken from local landmark locations from the cities in which we were playing. David’s would borrow my digital camera and bring in random images for me to manipulate during the show. He liked the idea of adding found art images and objects into the shows.
David was always a consummate gentleman, taking charge of rehearsals with the power of a conductor over his orchestra, the maestro directing his unique world. Working with David was always a collaborative and enlightening experience. He was always involved and an inspiration to be around. I can still hear his laughter and sense the way he made you feel so comfortable in his presence. From our initial meeting as lighting director for The Outside Tour through various tours, specials, videos, TV shows, awards, clubs, and festivals, and his 50th birthday concert film, he was an inspiration to be with. It is with truly great sadness, and words cannot begin to express the sorrow felt that he has left us. May his legacy be rejoiced and appreciated for what he was and has given us all. May the man who fell to Earth continue to grace us with his beauty and wisdom.
- Gary Westcott
Tom Kenny
(Heathen Tour, 2002 and A Reality Tour, 2003)
I designed the last 17 years of tours and all the TV performances for David Bowie. It all started in 1988, when I lit a dance piece that he did in the Dominion Theatre in London. Then, 10 years later, when my name came up, he remembered me and wanted someone who could look after him not only for his tours but also for the on-camera stuff, to make sure he always looked good, and the backgrounds and direction were interesting.
For the tours, he shied away from some of those huge shows and said, “Please don’t make this another Glass Spider.” That show took over, where he felt he was fighting against the show. He liked to be in control and make sure the show didn’t overpower his persona but to add to it instead. He didn’t need video or lighting to make him a great performer, didn’t need to hide behind it. He never wanted to embarrass himself and was always in control, a gentleman in a professional way.
He’d draw something on a pad, we’d get the design going, and I’d put together teams of people and video people. He was always very inclusive, no ego. It was always great fun. He’d call things out in music rehearsals, and you were never afraid to take him a new idea.
I remember when we were in New Zealand on A Reality Tour. He loved New Zealand and Australia. We’d been in LA, played The Shrine for eight days, and the cast of The Lord Of The Rings came to see the show. So there we were in New Zealand, and there was lots of lighting and a big rain storm. Everybody advised him not to go on stage, but David said, “Right, we’re going to do it.” It was everything that’s wrong with safety, but he played for three hours, in the rain, and just blew everybody away. He said, “If the fans are going to stand in the rain, I’m going to stand in the rain.”
For TV, I’d make sure the lighting and cameras were right for him, but he could switch easily from being a star to a normal human being and say, “Let’s try this tonight,” then laugh if it didn’t work out. He’d always tell you exactly where he got an idea from and had the total knowledge of the theatre and film world. He was also very down to earth, backstage talking to everyone. All of the fans thought he was their best friend—a fantastic guy!
I recently sent him an email about Berlin, and he sent me back an email, and I should have known. It was a very different email, not a David email at all, and in a way, he was saying goodbye. With all of this, I sort of it knew it was coming, but I didn’t want to admit it.
We’ve lost something important in our lives.
- Tom Kenny
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