Bowie Style

presentation, but it certainly is.”
Even his music had cooled. On Station To
Station, Bowie had ditched the slick Stateside
sounds of Young Americans for a more sober,
continental style inspired by electric Krautrock
rhythms (‘TVC15’) and the Euro-ballad tradition
(‘Word On A Wing’). And the Thin White Duke was
“throwing darts in lovers’ eyes”. Poisonous ones.
Bowie wasn’t a fascist or a racist. He was a cultural
pessimist with a wicked streak of misanthropy that, if
anything, had been reinforced by his rock star
experiences. Elitism was built into the star/fan
equation; audiences could be manipulated with
consummate ease. But neither stars, nor the media
that provides the link between them and their
audiences, could ever admit as much. And, besides,
Bowie was feeling bored and truculent. “The rock
business has become so established, and so much
like a society, that I have revolted against it. That’s
what wasn’t liked – that I won’t take it seriously, and
I’ll break its rules, and I won’t listen to it, and I won’t
take much notice of it. It doesn’t worry me.” He
returned to his Nietzsche and Crowley texts, built up
a tidy library on all aspects of the Third Reich… and
began to talk.