A String of Failed Beginnings
Throughout the 1960s, the man born David Jones was hustling. He cycled through a series of bands—The Kon-Rads, The King Bees, The Manish Boys, The Lower Third—each one fizzling out. He released nine singles that went nowhere. An audition for the BBC in 1965
resulted in a brutal rejection, with feedback calling him an “amateur sounding vocalist who sings wrong notes and out of tune” and is “devoid of personality.” For years, he was a musician going nowhere, trying to find a sound and an audience. The constant failure was taking its toll, and by 1967, Bowie was feeling alienated from his career and questioning his path.
A Detour Into Mime and Monastic Life
Frustrated and creatively adrift, Bowie explored other forms of expression. He became fascinated with the avant-garde, studying mime and physical theater under the influential dancer Lindsay Kemp. Kemp taught Bowie how to use his body to tell stories and inhabit characters, a skill that would later define personas like Ziggy Stardust. During this period, Bowie became so disillusioned with music that he seriously considered abandoning it entirely. He told Kemp he was thinking of “chucking in music altogether” to join a Tibetan Buddhist monastery in Scotland. He had developed a deep interest in Buddhism and, according to his own account, was “within a month of having my head shaved, taking my vows, and becoming a monk.” A teacher at the monastery, however, advised him that his true purpose was in music, steering him back toward the path he was about to abandon.
A Spark from the Silver Screen
The turning point came from an unlikely source: the cinema. In 1968, Bowie saw Stanley Kubrick’s groundbreaking film 2001: A Space Odyssey. He went to see it multiple times, admitting he was “very stoned” and that the experience was a “revelation.” The film’s imagery and themes of human isolation in the vastness of space resonated deeply with him. It sparked an idea for a new kind of song, one that combined the burgeoning public fascination with the space race with his own feelings of alienation. He began writing a story about a fictional astronaut, Major Tom, who becomes disconnected from Earth. The song’s title, “Space Oddity,” was a direct play on Kubrick’s film title.
One Giant Leap for a Career
“Space Oddity” was unlike anything Bowie had written before. It was a complex folk-rock narrative, a miniature sci-fi movie in five minutes. Even his longtime producer, Tony Visconti, initially dismissed it as a novelty record trying to cash in on the moon landing and refused to produce it. Nevertheless, Bowie persisted, and the single was released on July 11, 1969, just five days before the launch of Apollo 11. The timing was perfect. The BBC used the song during its coverage of the moon landing, though ironically they seemed to ignore the lyrics about the astronaut getting lost in space. The song became his first major hit in the UK, reaching number five on the charts. It was the breakthrough he had been working toward for nearly a decade, the hit that saved him from a potential life of monastic silence and set the stage for the icon he would become.
