What was going on with this guy? It was hard to tell, all through his forties. He was more beloved than ever, though his new music had no impact at all. He looked divine posing for photos with Pulp's Jarvis Cocker, who presented him with one of his many Lifetime Achievement Awards. He was excited about his Web site. He had shiny new teeth. He'd become one of those Thanks for the Memories guys, which wasn't really the kind of artist he'd ever wanted to be. His pop albums were Bowie trying to guess what might be popular; his art albums were Bowie trying to guess what might be cool. But these albums were neither popular nor cool. It turned out nobody wanted to hear Bowie sound unsure of himself. Nobody held it against him. He'd given the world enough.