Today’s chapter is a portrait at The Thin White Duke, the manifestation of megalomania and paranoia that gripped David Bowie at his personal low. Among his most frightening creations, the icy character unveiled on the title track to 1976’s ‘Station to Station’ is the physical embodiment of the drug abuse and psychic darkness that threatened to destroy him following years of mired in the toxic hedonism of Hollywood. Thankfully, he would rescue himself from these dire circumstances and move back in Europe, ultimately settling in Berlin along with his friend (and fellow substance abuser) Iggy Pop. The city would be both his savior and muse, providing the right environment to purge the noxious influences of Los Angeles and foster some of his most daring musical achievements. With help from longtime co-producer Tony Visconti and new friend/synth enthusiast Brian Eno, Bowie abandoned the flashy theatricality of his past and rewrote his musical language — fusing his beloved R&B with the proto-techno sounds of German bands like of Neu! and Kraftwerk. The result, ‘Low,’ would rank among his greatest work, kicking off a stunning string of albums later dubbed ‘The Berlin Trilogy.’ But more impressive than his musical reinvention was his personal one. David curbed his drug use and enjoyed an anonymous life that approached a healthy sense of normalcy. “Berlin was my clinic,” he said years later. “It brought me back in touch with people. It got me back on the streets; not the street where everything is cold and there’s drugs, but the streets where there were young, intelligent people trying to get along.” The city had rescued him from the almost certain oblivion. Not only was Bowie growing leaps and bounds as an artist, but he was also making his first tentative steps towards peace.