The faster the years move forward, the closer we get to David Bowie’s prediction that we’ve got five years left to live. We may have 10 or 12 good ones left, but after that, the countdown’s on, and how we handle it up to us. Unfortunately, Ziggy Stardust has come, been and gone. Maybe there’s some other space messiah hovering in the sky with a message of sparkly, genderfluid free love. Okay, but I know that David Bowie was just writing a space opera to match his hair. He couldn’t have known that the doomsday alarms would actually be ringing by the end of his own lifetime. Unless. There’s a good solid one-third of me that wants to seriously believe in a space messiah from Mars. I mean, there’s a lot of dumb shit that people full-stop seriously believe in and build their entire lives around, and why can’t that thing, for me, be a David Bowie record?