The Scottish Lass and Major Tom: Lulu, David Bowie and What Might Have Been

A brief history of British rock & roll’s “odd couple”

Scotland, England, America, Australia: The English speaking world’s favorite girl next door, circa 1969. (Photo: Pinterest)

WHEN LULU LEFT THE ATLANTIC RECORDS UMBRELLA IN THE EARLY 70s (I wrote about her stint there for Medium in my last piece), her career foundered a bit. Never far from the limelight in Britain, where she was a constant television presence even when her recording career slacked, she had been reduced to celebrity status (a star without hits) and was without even a minor hit on either side of the pond for nearly four years when she ran into David Bowie at a party.

Bowie, whose career had been building in all the places where hers was fading, was nonetheless a huge fan. He promised her he was going to make a record with her because she was a fantastic singer and it was going to be a hit.

British rock & roll’s original “odd couple,” circa 1974. (Photo found at Daily Record website)

Party talk

She was flattered but didn’t think much of it. Just party talk. Then, two days later, he called and the session was on.

Lulu had recently signed a contract with Chelsea Records and already released an album and single, both of which flopped. She had no chart action in America since 1970 (when the fabulous “After the Feeling is Gone” got only to #56 in Billboard) and none in Britain since 1969, so the launch on the new label, designed for a career boost, had amounted to only more of the same.

News of her collaboration with Bowie, at that moment, and every moment after was as far removed from her girl-next-door image as anyone could be (exactly no one thought of David Bowie as the boy next door) made headlines. “The Odd Couple” one industry mag declared. That was probably the nicest thing anybody said.

But Bowie was onto something. She was a fantastic singer and, as her history had shown to anyone willing to pay attention and look beyond the surface, game for anything.

The “anything” Bowie had in mind was the title track from his 1970 album The Man Who Sold the World.

It was an odd entry even in Bowie’s catalog and certainly unlike anything Lulu had ever done. In England, where her American smash “To Sir with Love” hadn’t even charted, she was still known best as the straight-ahead rocker of “Shout.” Pop ballads, blue-eyed soul, and an occasional torch song were her signature styles.

A lot of what Bowie did early on was designed to speak to a gay subculture, to which he would give winks and nods throughout his career in between marrying supermodels

Whatever “The Man Who Sold the World” was, it wasn’t any of those.

Until she sang it that is. Then it became a little of each and something more besides. She was able to bring a different kind of passion to the abstract lyrics (she professed not to know what the song was about and apparently asking Bowie didn’t yield any answers, even in the bed they were soon sharing) and the result only deepened the mystery. Who was he, this man who sold the world? Was he by chance the same dude who showed up on the B-side in “Watch That Man” (covering the lead track from Bowie’s Alladin Sane album)?

And they weren’t kidding! (Photo image from the Daily Mirror found on Pinterest)

Master of faking empathy

A lot of what Bowie did early on was designed to speak to a gay subculture, to which he would give winks and nods throughout his career in between marrying supermodels. Bowie himself was the first rock & roll master of faking empathy so convincingly that you couldn’t tell it from the real thing.

Lulu, on the other hand, never faked anything. Bowie gave her clean productions, mixed her voice up front (where he buried his own), and let her loose. The down and dirty in her voice that had propelled her up the charts in the first place was only deepened by the new mysteries.

And…

There it ended.

One great double-sided single to match the concepts of old Beatles and Beach Boys 45s and the collaboration was through.

“The Man Who Sold the World” did indeed become a hit, reaching #3 in the UK. But it didn’t really bring Lulu a new audience. She never stopped making quality records, but, except for a brief resurgence on the US charts in the early ’80s and a nice run in the UK in the early ’90s, she was never again a consistent hitmaker.

Lulu herself has said that other tapes of their collaboration exist and has spent years looking for them with an idea of releasing an album.

As for Bowie, his fame and influence mounted throughout the ’70s and ’80, eventually reaching iconic status.

Of course, the media these days is mostly interested in Lulu and Bowie’s brief affair. They should be helping her look for the lost tapes. (Photo courtesy of the Daily Mirror).

He earned that status by carving out the place where Prince, Madonna, Lady Gaga and The Girl Next Door all learned to shift their shapes and continue to obliterate the distinction between passion and artifice. His collaboration with the Scottish Lass remains an intriguing “what if?”

Lulu herself has said that other tapes of their collaboration exist and has spent years looking for them with an idea of releasing an album. I hope she finds them.

With the world now completely in the hands of the men who sold it, it sure would be a kick in the head to find out what we missed.

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Thanks for reading! Below are links to three articles that are essential to knowing what the Tell It Like It Was publication here on Medium is all about — mostly rock & roll music of the ’50s and ’60s. Hope you’ll give it a look-see!

Blogging with “Tell It Like It Was”

Introduction to “Tell It Like It Was”

Introduction to “The Toppermost of the Poppermost”