On Friday, Jan. 8, David Bowie released the compelling “Blackstar,” a collection of songs about mortality and what lies beyond. Two days later, he was gone at the age of 69. What was originally speculated as a hoax, fueled by oddly worded posts to his social media accounts, became reality. The world mourned, and it will continue to.

His craft was revolutionary

Bowie was no ordinary musician who simply got a big break. He was an icon, constantly pushing the boundaries of what was considered “conventional” in pop music, sexuality and identity. His personas were many, spanning from Ziggy Stardust to the Thin White Duke, constantly reinventing himself and his sound. Not only was his craft revolutionary, making permanent marks on pop music with songs like “Heroes,” “Let’s Dance” and “Space Oddity,” but his life as well. In a 1983 interview with MTV that came to light not long after his passing, Bowie was seen vying for equality in popular music, criticizing the station for the lack of airtime black artists were getting at the time.

Not only that, Bowie made it easier for people to be themselves. His envelope-pushing personas and outfits surely had an effect on the labels of traditional masculinity and femininity from the 70s and onward. His influence was seen very prominently in the formation of legendary bands such as post-punk pioneers Bauhaus, who even notably covered “Ziggy Stardust.” Their prominent cheekbones and mascara-clad image, one of dark, romantic glamor, likely would not have existed without Bowie. Countless other musicians all had words to say as well about how Bowie changed their lives and set them on a course to create their own music, spanning countless genres and new discoveries in sound.

Admired on a universal scale

For me, Bowie is someone who has had an impact on my life for years. His name was familiar from an early age, but it was not until I was 15 that I truly discovered the feelings of wonder that stem from his discography. It was a reading of Stephen Chbosky’s “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” that exposed me to “Heroes,” and from there, further exposure led to “Life on Mars” becoming an all-time favorite song of mine. His search for identity in a confusing world has deeply resonated with me, and his lifelong search for truth, which evidently continued up to his final days, can be admired on a universal scale.

On the day before Bowie’s death, I found myself playing a show at a DIY venue in Montclair, N.J. named The Meat Locker. In between bands, “Life on Mars” played over the PA, and in that fleeting moment, everything felt right in the world, if only for an instant.