By Michael Barbieri****When it comes to David Bowie, Raquel Cion wears her heart on her sleeve—the sequined, bugle-beaded sleeve of her fabulous Bowie-inspired couture! Her show, Me and Mr. Jones: My Intimate Relationship with David Bowie, is a captivating, hypnotic, hugely entertaining balls-to-the-wall biographical evening of cabaret. I caught Cion recently at Pangea, where she shared her enduring and obsessive love for David Robert Jones, better known to the world as David Bowie.
Raquel Cion is a powerful,
soulful singer who’s been described as “half witch and half cabaret performer” by The New York Times. She has worked in Paris, Russia and the San Francisco Bay Area, and has appeared at legendary New York performance spaces like Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater, The Kitchen, Dixon Place and La MaMa Etc.
Cion’s paean to David Bowie opened with “Moonage Daydream,” from the iconic album, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Her slow entrance through the house set the mood perfectly, as she mesmerized the audience with a strong vocal and mysterious, electric stage presence! She also dazzled the crowd visually as she slipped out of the velvet duster she wore, to reveal a slinky, sequined gown patterned after the album art of Bowie’s Aladdin Sane.
Bowie, Cion explained, was the unofficial patron saint of the alienated, so as a rebellious, wonderfully weird kid herself, she fell hard for him at age 12 when she discovered his fourth album, Hunky Dory. As a proud fan of the androgynous, sexually ambiguous rock star, she had troubles with conservative, homophobic school officials, so her story of how she nearly outed one of them led into a fittingly driving rendition of “Teenage Wildlife.” In Cion’s hands, the song spoke to her own “differentness” and how she often felt judged by the world; on display—as Bowie put it— ‘I’m not some piece of teenage wildlife!’ The song was also combined with a bit of another Bowie classic, “Heroes,” which was not only similar, musically, but echoed many of the same emotions.
Cion told us of limbic resonance—the capacity of the human brain to share deep emotional connections with fellow human beings. This was proof to her that the musical and somewhat sexual connection she felt with Bowie was very real. The familiar mantra of “sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll,” she said, was a true neurological possibility. Bowie’s “Station to Station,” with lyrics like “It’s not the side effects of the cocaine/I’m thinking that it must be love” was a perfect illustration of her point. 
Throughout the performance, Cion’s song choices and almost poetically structured patter, demonstrated her deep emotional ties to the star and the sometimes quasi-illegal lengths to which she’d go to achieve closeness, as when she stole a copy of the Bowie-narrated recording of Peter and the Wolf from her local library. She told of being fired from jobs because of her obsession, of how she broke down in tears at the David Bowie Is exhibit, and in one of my favorite moments, of touching Bowie’s knee as he sat at the edge of the stage during one of his concerts. When she told how he rested his hand gently on hers, she became quite emotional, her voice breaking and moving me to tears myself!
As for other song selections, I’ll admit that I was unfamiliar with many of them, but her delivery of the material, along with the perfect period-appropriate arrangements from her terrific band never let me down, so to speak! Her hip version of “Rock ‘n’ Roll With Me” had a funky piano line and a clear, twangy guitar that lent it a sort of country/soul feel. On a more somber note, however, “Dollar Days,” from Bowie’s final album, Blackstar, began with poignant, delicate lyrics like “If I’ll never see the English evergreens I’m running to, it’s nothing to me,” yet ended in a burst of cacophonous music from the band, as Cion exited through the room for one last costume change. The moment was moving and disquieting at once!
David Bowie’s death from cancer in 2016 took on a deeper meaning for Cion, as she confronted a cancer diagnosis of her own. Certainly, his music helped get her through the battle, but the emotional scars were on display in “Killing a Little Time,” from Bowie’s musical Lazarus, as she sang “I’m falling, man/I’m choking, man/I’m fading, man.” Many of the songs from the final third of her show were examples of Bowie at his most vulnerable, and thusly, Cion at hers. This was Cion making pure art out of life—and death, just like David!
Directed by Cynthia Cahill, with Musical Director Karl Saint Lucy on piano, Jeremy Bass on guitar, Michael Ryan Morales on drums and Daniel Schuman on bass, this was an outstanding show that perfectly evoked a specific time and sound. And while Cion’s voice was somewhat undisciplined, strident, and at times, not even very pretty, that wasn’t the point! This was rock ‘n’ roll! Her singing was so raw and so real, one couldn’t help but get swept away by the beauty, power and emotion of her performance!
The night ended on a high, with two of Bowie’s most iconic hits from the 1970s, “The Jean Genie,” with Cion going full-out, kick-ass rocker chick on us, and “Life on Mars?”, which, in context, could’ve been about the young Raquel Cion discovering the wonders of David Bowie’s world—a world of which she still dreams and which informed this evening so gorgeously.
Raquel Cion returns to Pangea on January 8th at 9pm. For information, go to www.pangeanyc.com
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