I didn’t have much advanced notice I was
going to rehab, I was 16 and it really wasn’t my decision. I don’t think anyone
gives it much forethought, rehab isn’t exactly a vacation. I made sure I packed
my favorite shirt and pants, probably not enough underwear and a few socks. In the
late 80s I only owned a few cds and had no way to play them away from home so I
needed to bring whatever cassettes I could. I anticipated hours of down time
and music would be a must but my vast vinyl collection would be of no use. I
had no idea what to expect of rehab but I was sure I would need something to
drown out my thoughts.
If I had a few days notice I would be
away from home for some time I could have made my own cassette copies of my
favorite records. Pink Floyds The Wall, 4 or 5 Hendrix records, some Zeppelin
and an Aerosmith or 2 but with no warning I had few options. I didn’t buy
tapes. Cassettes sound awful, wear out and break; besides, I didn’t drive so
there was zero reason for me to waste my money on cassettes. I left for upstate
NY with the only 2 tapes I owned, The Rolling Stones Hot Rocks and David Bowie
Space Oddity. I wasn’t a huge fan of either and could not recall where or how I
acquired them but it was better than nothing.
Few things arouse hope like your first
rehab and my early days went quickly. My roommate Joe and new surroundings were
a welcomed diversion from my typical monotonous activities. Joe was into the
Stones and Hot Rocks played continuously until Joe was moved to another unit
and I left alone with my thoughts. At some point I placed Space Oddity into the
boom box and pressed play.
Certainly not regarded as Bowie ’s finest album Space Oddity was/is not well known
other than the title tracks tale of Major Tom but the overall melancholic tone
of the record provided a superb soundtrack for my dreary room and dispirited
mood. Floating in space aimlessly seemed a much better option than facing my
emotions and accepting responsibility for my actions. Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly
Dazed was surely inspired by my social life and I swear I wrote the Letter to
Hermione in all of its heart broken charm. David Bowie sang songs of old women
stealing money and wild eyed children at music festivals and failed
relationships…all of them delivered with a beautiful sadness that resonated
with an emotionally overwhelmed adolescent. Space Oddity played steadily for
the entirety of my five week stay but rarely if ever after my discharge.
The combination of casual dating and
Columbia House record club reunited me with a cd copy of Space Oddity. I was no
longer an adolescent, in fact I was approaching 30 but as the songs played I sang
every word. The better part of fifteen years had passed but I closed my eyes
and I was lying on my bed, in that dreary room and my heart was filled with angst,
confusion, heartache and all the dreadful hideousness of my youth. I could feel
it, taste it…David had provided a time machine. It had been half my life since I
felt this way, I was awe struck by the power of music and Bowie . I was transported completely and honestly, it was distressing
to revisit such uncomfortable sorrow. So much so, that I never listened to that
album again. I have resisted the urge to impress anyone else with my ability to
sing every lyric of Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud. That is, until now.
The news of David Bowie’s death has encouraged
me to listen to Space Oddity again and brave its time traveling powers. Now in
my mid 40s I have settled the vast majority of any juvenile issues but David
can still bring me back to that long lost time almost 30 years ago. I am not David
Bowie’s biggest fan and far from his most loyal but this one record is quite
possibly the most significant of my life.