No. 080 - David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” changed my life
In a ’72 Chevy Nova, in front of a pizza parlor, Tracy McKenna saw, really saw, her mother for the first time
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This Song Changed My Life is an independent music publication featuring weekly essays from people all around the world about the songs that mean the most to them. Created (and illustrated) by Grace Lilly.
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• 4 min read •
I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but young, really young because we still had a car and my mom was still driving and not only am I telling you about a song that changed my life, it’s also literally the only memory I have of her driving anywhere because what happened to that car? No idea. We took the bus or called a cab until very brief marriage number two rolled around and after that ended, we went back to buses, the DC Metro by then, and cabs for odd hours or locations the buses didn’t go. And yeah, go ahead and jump to conclusions because I was indeed that stereotypical unwatched, hyper-responsible, Gen X, latchkey child (wearing actual keys on a ball chain around my neck), largely raising myself, but this took place near the beginning, just before all of that set in. And, yes, all that is relevant.
So, back to the car, which I’m told was an unexciting grey ’72 Chevy Nova that my mom kept after the divorce. I don’t remember the outside of the car, just a little bit of the inside. We drove to Shakey’s Pizza far out in the Maryland suburbs. Not to the location we usually went to, so that’s another unanswered question. We get there, it’s my little brother and me, it’s a big deal because we didn’t get pizza that often, and my mom parks the car, and then — here we are finally getting to the song — she sits in the car, not moving, eyes straight ahead. We kids are also just sitting in the car, quietly watching our mom. It’s really, really quiet except for the radio and I remember how eerie and absolutely still it felt sitting in the car listening to the music. It’s what we now all call a core memory, and I have very few memories, core or otherwise, from that period. After a while I asked her why we were still sitting in the car and she casually said, “Because I like this song.” She said it like a verbal shrug. Okay, sure… valid, but weird.
The engine’s running, we’re all listening to David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” There’s a countdown overlaid with Ground Control’s instructions, the trippy space music interlude, and then Major Tom steps out of his capsule floating in a most peculiar way. Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing we can do. Nothing but listen and wonder. Life slowed way, way down during those five minutes and the world outside the car dropped away.
That crystalline moment is when I realized my mom was a person all to herself, separate from parenting me, separate from work and the house, someone who liked songs enough to listen all the way through, marking time, and feeling, really intensely feeling, something in the music. I had no idea. I didn’t know she cared about music in that way. I sang in chorus at school but I guess I was just going through the motions because up until that point lyrics didn’t seem special in any way. I was so young and so utterly clueless that I didn’t realize songs were supposed to make you feel anything. They were just words and music to me, a closed loop.
“Space Oddity” changed my life. It changed how I thought about my mom and how I thought about music. Songs were no longer a backdrop. Don’t get me wrong — I was still a little kid and didn’t understand a lot of what I was listening to, it was the 70s and a lot went over my head, but I started paying attention and I didn’t stop. I got a turntable for my ninth birthday and when I started babysitting after school a year later, I saved my dollar-an-hour pay and bought records. Music kept me company during the long hours I spent on my own in the house, alone and unencumbered by adult supervision. I wasn’t in outer space, but I understood the sense of solitude. I got into punk and funk and disco and early hip-hop and new wave.
By high school, the music I listened to started defining how I thought about myself and how others saw me as I started dressing the part, shaving my head, and going to clubs downtown. I immersed myself in music and art and DJ’d at my college radio station. And, yes, I continued to listen to Bowie through his own many transformations.
To this day, every time I hear “Space Oddity” I think of my mom sitting in the car, wrapped up in Major Tom’s story, and how one special song can change everything. ◆
About Tracy
Tracy McKenna is an independent curator working with contemporary artists. Her most recent shows and projects were in Brooklyn and Los Angeles.
Instagram @tracy_u_mckenna
Website tracy-mckenna.com
⭐ Recommended by
Ben Godward (No. 056)
Every TSCML writer is asked to recommend a future contributor, creating a never-ending, underlying web of interconnectivity 🕸️
Categories
Friendship • Family • Coming of Age • Romance • Grief • Spirituality & Religion • Personal Development
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