9 - Station To Station

I think Station to Station is best summed up by a pretend letter from Bowie to himself scribbled on a napkin that he didn't remember writing.

Ok. You're the Thin White Duke for this album. It's basically Pierrot, but it's really the way you looked in real life while recording Young Americans because your diet is coke and milk and peppers. It's not your fault we're in the middle of the neo-nazi renaissance and everyone's going to forget that you A) are the rebellious child of WWII, and B) chose your side like 4 albums ago, and C) pretend you're secretly a fascist. It's not just the cocaine talking (even though we both know you're doing enough of it to kill 3 elephants), LA is a god forsaken wasteland just like you said it would be, and you have to go back to Europe. You'll pretend you don't know it's going to happen ('cause you'll be doing like 3 other massive projects that won't see the light of day), but you'll end up in West Berlin and we'll get back on track at that point. Just stick with the paranoia and fear of fellow occultist Jimmy Page, and get through the worst of the slander 'cause sarcasm won't exist for like 5 more years, but you're so out of your mind you don't realize it. Gary Neumann will stand up for you, while you fall over and shatter like the snorting mirror you just dropped.

Note to self: I get the breakneck acceleration of these last couple albums, frantically rushing face first toward the brick wall finish line. It's making me antsy too. I need a break. Gimme like 6 hours before we delve into the Berlin Trilogy.

Clear as mud?

10 - Low

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