Bowie: A Biography - JFK247

the only one I know who has appeared the same
year on the best-dressed man’s and the worstdressed
woman’s list … Someone’s idea of a joke.
Rumors and questions have arisen about Dave,
such as who is he, what is he, where did he come
from? Is he a creature of a foreign power? Is he a
creep? Is he dangerous? Is he smart? Dumb? Nice
to his parents? Real? A put-on? Crazy? Sane?
Man? Woman? Robot? What is this? His fans have
seen him do almost everything but sit and talk.
Which they will see tonight. It will be a first for them.
In this concert there’s still another David Bowie.
Ladies and gentlemen, David Bowie.”
The band kicks into the “1984” wah-wah pedaldriven
riff and Bowie, wearing his Puerto Rican suit
with a wallet chain and a short tie with white shoes,
his orange hair swept up, slinks out and sings.
After the commercial, Bowie is seated. He wipes
the sweat off his skull and taps a walking cane on the
floor. Cavett welcomes him like the perfect host he
was. Bowie utters a clipped, polite “Thank you,” but
still seems ill at ease. “You’ve got a lot of explaining
to do,” Cavett then says cheerfully in a mock
Cockney accent. Bowie looks genuinely worried.
“You don’t have the trappings you’ve had in the past,”
Cavett observes.
Bowie responds with a gigantic snort. It’s the
loudest snort in the history of broadcast television.
“He was very wired, I would say,” Cavett tells me
today. “That would be my amateur diagnosis. Either
that or a severe sinus problem.”