2016 was a shitty year (not that this one is any better) and the event that kicked off the misery, David Bowie’s death, was one of the saddest. I mourned him privately by poring through his catalog and publicly by getting shit-faced with friends and listening to his records all night. I’m not sure that it helped with the loss, but it certainly helped get reacquainted with a lot of overlooked albums, specifically those late ’80s and ’90s ones. I needed no reintroduction to Ziggy Stardust or “Moonage Daydream,” however, but the song came to be something else for me.
I’d met someone the month before Bowie died, but didn’t get to know her till the month after. We became close quickly and this track somehow became an anthem of sorts for us. Maybe because we’re weirdos? Specifically, the “space face” line will send us across the room—if we aren’t already occupying the same space—to press our faces together. I don’t what the future will hold or what we’ll end up being to each other, but I know she’ll remain an important part of my life always. I must have been missing her when this song got stuck in my head; it will always make me think of her and wish I was sitting next to her, cheeks pressed close.
“Keep your electric eye on me, babe. Put your ray gun to my head. Press your space face close to mine, love”