David Bowie is the Peter Sellers of rock and roll: He's all blank slate, the chameleon who adapts to his surroundings without actually adopting an identity. He commits only to schlock, tailoring the disguise--mod rocker, dickless spaceman, fashion faux-pas--to fit the delivery, which is somewhere between smirk and sneer (the hybrid of which is called "smarm"). He insists now that the 1970s were a put-on, a sick and silly joke taken too seriously, but how else to explain away the orange mullet and nonsense concept albums about Martians picking up instruments to save the earth from imminent destruction? Then, you never get the feeling this guy particularly believes in what he's doing, just... More >>>