🌌 A Clash of Stardust and Revolution
By the mid-1970s, David Bowie had conquered Ziggy Stardust and was spiraling through his “plastic soul” phase. John Lennon, meanwhile, had stepped away from The Beatles and was navigating solo stardom with vulnerability and rage. Two men from opposite ends of the cultural explosion of the ‘60s were on a collision course. They met not in a stadium, not on a stage—but in a New York hotel room, in 1974.
Bowie idolized Lennon. Lennon, in turn, was wary of Bowie’s theatricality but intrigued by his intelligence. The first meeting? Awkward. Bowie babbled. Lennon cracked jokes. But beneath the banter, something real sparked. Both were searching: Bowie for artistic legitimacy in America, Lennon for reinvention post-Beatles.
And in one legendary studio session, the search became a song.
🌀 THE BIRTH OF “FAME” – A JAM SESSION TURNED GENIUS
They were in Electric Lady Studios, New York. Bowie had been recording Young Americans, exploring his obsession with soul and R&B. Lennon joined him and guitarist Carlos Alomar for what was supposed to be a relaxed jam.
Lennon started riffing Chuck Berry’s “Footstompin’.” Alomar twisted it into a funky loop. Bowie layered on a lyric: “Fame, what you like is in the limo.” Lennon added a sarcastic falsetto: “Fame!” They laughed. Then they got serious.
The song was finished in a blur of energy. Bowie, Alomar, Lennon—each contributing a piece of their psyche. Lennon’s falsetto became the haunting echo. Bowie’s lyrics spat bitterness: “Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.”
It was personal. For Bowie, fame was devouring his identity. For Lennon, it had already consumed him.
🔥 A FRIENDSHIP BORN IN TRUTH AND TEASING
During those sessions, they bonded not just musically but personally. Bowie later said, “He was the only person I was ever in awe of.” Lennon, with typical cheek, would tease Bowie, calling him “Ziggy” and mocking his accent. Bowie, ever eager for approval, soaked it in.
Yet their conversations weren’t always playful. They discussed art, politics, their childhoods. Bowie confessed his struggles with drugs and image. Lennon spoke of his loneliness post-Yoko. Two icons stripped away the mask, even for just a few days.
Bowie once said, “John taught me that being clever wasn’t enough. That it had to come from a real place.” Fame, the song, became more than a track—it was a mirror.
📀 IMPACT – A NO.1 HIT AND A SHIFT IN BOWIE’S ARC
“Fame” hit No.1 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 in 1975—Bowie’s first American chart-topper. For a British artist obsessed with breaking the States, it was a breakthrough. But the song’s meaning haunted him. It wasn’t a celebration—it was a warning.
Lennon later joked in an interview: “Yeah, I just screamed ‘fame’ a couple of times and now I’m in the credits.” But he was proud. Their collaboration had turned Bowie from a space oddity into a transatlantic force.
For Bowie, that moment reshaped his career. It gave him the confidence to experiment even more. He’d go on to Berlin, to reinvent again. But Lennon’s fingerprint remained.
🌙 LEGACY – MORE THAN JUST A SONG
After Lennon’s murder in 1980, Bowie was shaken. He rarely spoke of it in depth, but the grief ran deep. When Bowie later performed “Imagine” in tribute, it was raw, almost childlike. The friendship was brief, but its resonance was eternal.
In 2016, when Bowie passed, fans revisited Fame with new ears. It wasn’t just a funky hit—it was a time capsule. A moment where two titans crossed paths, both wary of fame, both victims and creators of it.
✨ THE DAY ZIGGY MET A BEATLE
It’s rare when two planets align. The day David Bowie met John Lennon, it wasn’t about ego or headlines. It was about truth, art, and the strange, corrosive beauty of fame. That night in Electric Lady wasn’t just a recording session. It was a surrender of masks.
Lennon showed Bowie that the bravest thing an artist can do is be human. And Bowie, in return, gave Lennon a place to play again—free, weird, and loud.
And from that unlikely friendship, we got “Fame.”