Claudio Fabretti

Titolo: David Bowie. Forever and Ever

Author: Claudio Fabretti

Publisher: White Star (2025)

Pages: 208

Price: €28.50 

Bowie is the epitome of every contradiction in rock. No one else has been able to lay bare the clichés of stardom, the morbid yet hypocritical relationship between idols and fans, the false myth of the rocker's sincerity

The words of Claudio Fabretti, written on page eight of “David Bowie. Forever and Ever” (White Star, 2025), are explanatory, serving as the incipit of a narrative that digs through the sprawling career of the Thin White Duke without claiming to retrace paths already mapped out countless times over, by half the world, over at least the last thirty years.

It's first and foremost a photographic volume, with the images well placed among the author's words, "moving" like a mirror of a story that, from its (timid) origins, aims to further elevate the artistic and sonic evolution of one of the most iconic figures of the twentieth century. That last adjective is increasingly overused, but with Bowie it becomes almost unavoidable, given the sheer scale of influence generated across five decades and probably heading toward infinity and beyond, through records, clothes, ideas, initiatives and stunts that were almost always well ahead of everything else. It's an avant-garde approach that made him, at times unknowingly or even against his own ambitions, a genuine deity, a distant beacon, in short an elusive musician.

Between the earliest glimpses of a still-childhood Bowie, unaware that he would one day become, almost in spite of himself, the androgynous-eyed alien we all know, and his rockabilly poses alongside the King Bees, the very first sparks of “David Bowie. Forever and Ever” offer a concise snapshot of a debut that was, all things considered, anything but explosive, since when David Jones was not yet David Bowie, his fascination with bands like the Who and the Kinks produced performances bordering on mimicry. It's no coincidence, then, that Fabretti quickly focuses on a series of sliding doors moments, such as the "saving" encounter, dating back to 14 July 1967, with the mime and dancer Lindsay Kemp, a key figure for the Martian performer who, from the early 1970s onward, would go on to literally overturn the stylistic conventions of rock.

Little Zowie, embraces with his faithful Mick Ronson – whom Fabretti describes as "the perfect counterpart to Ziggy Stardust" – the early disguises: the narrative reveals a Bowie who is, in many respects, previously unseen, in particular the young, attentive father who, beyond his front door, aspired to be the self-absorbed "painter" of a new pop canvas. In the early stretches of Bowie's arc, the bond with Americans Lou Reed and Iggy Pop inevitably emerges as well, presences that fuel the genesis of songs like “Queen Bitch”, inspired precisely by the Duke's stay in New York's Bowery. On “Hunky Dory” Fabretti writes: “Its influence on English pop would be felt for decades, with a host of disciples (Marc Almond, Kate Bush, Eurythmics, Blur and Suede, among many others), while Boy George (Culture Club) would call it 'the record that changed my life'”.

The subsequent birth of Ziggy, born out of the clash/encounter of guiding spirits such as Vince Taylor and The Legendary Stardust Cowboy, as well as kabuki theatre, enriches the book's most colourful pages. And it could hardly have been otherwise. So much so that Fabretti repeatedly shines a spotlight on the covers of the first memorable LPs, on the meanings and signifiers of an aesthetic physiologically bound to the music, as shown by the cover of “Pin Ups”, which features Bowie alongside model Twiggy – already name-checked in “Drive-In Saturday” as “Twig The Wonder Kid” – immortalised at the time by Justin de Villeneuve in a photo that captures them both “made up like cerulean masks with an enigmatic, alienating expression”.

On the genesis of the book, the author explains: “It was the publisher's idea, on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of his death. They regularly publish photographic volumes on rock stars, and the anniversary was the spark that got the project going, which began as a kind of illustrated history of David Bowie that wouldn't limit itself to biography but would try, concisely, to analyse his major works as well. The fact that I had written several articles about him for OndaRock caught their attention, confirming how crucial online coverage has now become even in the music field. Obviously I accepted at once and enthusiastically, since he's one of my all-time favourite artists.”

The idea of inserting, like excerpts, anecdotes and statements from Bowie himself turns out to be a spot-on choice, both critically and simply in terms of storytelling. One example? To explain the reasons behind the composition and the underlying choices of an album as unexpected as it was controversial, such as “Young Americans”, Fabretti repeatedly hands the floor to the Duke himself: “I was thrilled to work with John (Lennon, ed.) and he loved hanging out with my band, because we played old soul tracks and Stax-style stuff. John had a special energy.” And then there's the paranoia of the Los Angeles years, the flight from the New World to get clean, the fitting aristocratic air of a character like the “Thin White Duke” – yet another creation born from the mind (and gut) of the English rock star – and the photos showing an unexpectedly homebody side: these are just some of the tangible traces scattered across the pages of a book whose distinctive feature is moving on and off the stage depending on the occasion, often slipping its way into Bowie's own home in order to bring out an overall picture of a decidedly singular myth.

“Having already had the chance to write about Bowie often for OndaRock, I already had a kind of 'map' to start from. As I said, he's one of my all-time favourite artists, so I had many personal interpretative keys born out of my listening and my reviews. On top of that, I tried mainly to reconstruct the Thin White Duke's mental journey – somewhat along the lines of the documentary “Moonage Daydream” – through his records and songs, trying to piece together the various fragments of a puzzle as enigmatic as his art, a mirror of a deeply restless and complex personality. As I mention in the introduction, Bowie himself used to say: 'The artwork is only complete once the audience adds its own interpretation to it, it's in that grey, in-between space that its meaning truly lies.' So I tried to fill that space through my own vision of his music, also trying to bring into focus the various phases of his career, often marked by characters that acted as a kind of diaphragm placed between himself and the world, but also by the most plausible glimpses of his real personality. And I also tried to dismantle a few clichés about him, starting with that surface-level chameleon-like quality so often attributed to him. If anything, his shifting persona reflects the anxiety of running ahead of and anticipating the times, of constantly dismantling and rebuilding himself, in search of an authentic self. With a continuity identifiable in that 'rock'n'Bowie' trademark perceptible throughout his work, as well as in his drive to push past creative limits, to break the rules, even in the recording studio. My analysis, in any case, makes no claim to definitive interpretations or absolute truths. One of the most fascinating things about Bowie is precisely the fact that his work lends itself to so many interpretations, all of them compelling in their own way. In any case, my main sources were those of his most widely recognised 'official' biographers, from Nicolas Pegg to David Buckley, down to our own Francesco Donadio. In addition, of course, to OndaRock's own content,” Fabretti adds.

But if the first act of Bowie's career is a film with a surprising, complex screenplay, overflowing with strokes of genius, the second act, as is well known, gradually becomes more “predictable”, with the musician and the man finally catching up with the visionary performer, even overtaking him on several occasions. It's a delicate phase, far from easy to explain, which Fabretti dissects without ever falling into the trap of cheap mudslinging. He makes this clear when he gets to the “Tonight” period: “He's aware that he's no longer managed to stay at the cutting edge, not even of the kind of chart-topping pop that in those years in the UK was thriving on new stars like Marc Almond, Culture Club, Bronski Beat and Frankie Goes To Hollywood – not to mention rock acts like Police, Dire Straits, Smiths and Cure – while on the other side of the ocean phenomena like Michael Jackson, Prince and Madonna were running riot. By the mid-1980s, Bowie seemed to have lost his way: he would have to wait for the new decade to get back to making albums worthy of his standards. And yet his creativity hadn't gone out. Proof of that lies in two excellent singles released in 1985, 'Absolute Beginners' and 'This Is Not America' (with Pat Metheny).”

Then there's Bowie the actor, whom the author captures in all his versatility, much to the chagrin of some rather thick-headed critics who have repeatedly dismissed him as a rockstar moonlighting in cinema, naively overlooking Bowie's innate acting talent — a subtle art dealer through and through, and consequently a figure far from easy or immediate to read even on screen.

The White Duke's spectacular exit can only serve as the final chapter of a text aimed at neophytes and seasoned fans alike. A dual nature that mirrors the equally mutable essence of the most androgynous eyes in the history of music.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

12/04/2026