I view Bowie's 80s career more as watching the world's hippest living 'this is your brain on drugs' after-photo. This is your brain on drugs. This is your brain on drugs, with a side of hash browns and a side of bacon. This is your brain in a clown suit. This is your brain pretending to play the saxophone. This is your brain touring with Trent Reznor.
I hate them for this. Especially since it deeply trumps the humor value of my own metaphor:
Bowie's 80s career was the Zapruder tape of pop music fame. It's horrifying. You can sit there and HEAR the dream dying. And yet you KEEP WATCHING IT OVER AND OVER AND OVER looking for THE EXACT MOMENT OF ITS DEATH. But you never identify it, and then JFK Junior turns into a grown-up.