Daily Jam - When the Fool Becomes a King

This column was originally posted in 2016 a few days after David Bowie died.

I’ve been listening to everything through a David Bowie filter this last week, which in so many ways could be unfair to the music I’m hearing, as Bowie is such an unrealistic iconic figure to try and live up to. But at the same time, his cultural influence is so prevalent in everything from music to visuals to fashion and art, that maybe in some ways, that filter was there all along. Orchestral chamber psych-choral-pop band/cult The Polyphonic Spree are hardly the first group of minstrels and troubadours I think of when scouring the audio world for Bowie affection and affectations, but listening now, it’s there indeed. It could be the sense of whimsy and star-eyed psychedelia the band trades in that can certainly be linked back to Bowie’s pre-Ziggy days. Or it could be the simple act of following your own muse, harnessing aspects of old or forgotten sounds and making them your own, or crafting something brand new in the process. Or it could be the fact that I saw Bowie and The Polyphonic Spree perform “Slip Away” together in 2004, and it was utterly transcendent. It’s all of these things.

At that same show, during the Spree’s opening set, the band unveiled a slew of new tunes from their then upcoming album Together We’re Heavy, finishing up (I believe) with the 10-minute epic “When the Fool Becomes a King.” I had been following the band since seeing them a few years prior as an opening act (their second ever show, risen from the ashes of 90’s Texas alt-rock staple Tripping Daisy) for Grandaddy, and was probably one of the few people in the large crowd who was genuinely excited to see them too. Their set was poppy and energetic and fun, a perfect aperitif to get us all ready for the main event, though as they approached their booming finale, they seemed at the ready to even eclipse it.

“When the Fool Becomes a King” feels like a grand summation for an artist’s lifetime of work, though it comes from sophomore effort. The crashing crescendos, orchestration, and choral flair lend themselves so perfectly to front man Tim DeLaughter’s gleeful vocals that the end result is intoxicating. It feels like life, like youthful exuberance and elder foreknowledge at the same time, all of the ups and downs and the good with the bad, but still smiling, a kind of melancholy positivity. It’s sonic affirmation at its finest, and it’s beautiful. And in some ways, none of this would have ever existed without David Bowie.

Under the aura of Bowie, so many artists have, and more artists will emerge from his wake in the creative ether, and that’s a fantastic thing to be able to hold on to and look forward to.

“And it makes me smile.”

Listen below, our Daily Jam.