Remembering the incomparable shape-shifter of sound, vision, and style David Bowie, who would have turned 70 today. I began writing this appreciation in the blurred hours that immediately followed the hard news of his passing (don’t call this tribute an “obituary” because all you have to do, in Bowie’s own words on what turned out to be his final album, “Blackstar,” is look up to the skies to find him — the Starman of the ages floating through through time and unseen dimension; a Space Oddity unlike anyone, or anything, that had come before who, for 69 years, was like the man who fell to earth. And then seemingly in a flash (or a red lightning bolt) departed, just like that, once more.