David Bowie

One of the people I've always quite liked but have never quite allowed myself to quite like, is David Bowie. I was perhaps just a little too young to fully appreciate the artful androgyny of Ziggy Stardust and had no concept of a concept album as a nine-year-old.

But there was also something else. No matter how alien and avant-garde he attempted to make himself, he never quite convinced and his stage show was too theatrical for my tastes. The make-up, the costumes, the choreography, were simply too much; by which I don't mean too outrageous or excessive, but full of drama school pretension. 

Even as a child, I never liked what I perceived to be pretension - particularly in pop stars - and so I  was attracted more to the glam-rock silliness of Marc Bolan rather than Bowie and cared more for Sweet than the Spiders from Mars. 

However, it's all a long time ago and I have since revised my views somewhat. Thus I'm now happy to admit that, for a while, in the early-mid seventies, Bowie was the most beautiful man on the planet who managed to achieve a  rare moment of perfection - but I still prefer Gary Glitter.