50 Songs That Journeyed to the Stars

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A Cosmic Symphony

Music about outer space is rarely just about outer space. It is a vast, silent canvas onto which artists have projected humanity’s most significant emotions: our greatest hopes, our deepest anxieties, our sense of wonder, and our most personal feelings of alienation. The story of space in popular music is the story of ourselves, told through a lexicon of stars, rockets, and alien worlds. This musical journey began in earnest with the cultural upheaval of the Space Race, a period when the cosmos transformed from an abstract concept into a tangible destination. The launch of Sputnik and the Apollo moon landing were not just scientific achievements; they were seismic cultural events that ignited the global imagination. Musicians, like all artists, responded to this new frontier, creating soundtracks for an era of unprecedented exploration.

This initial wave of cosmic creativity was fueled by a perfect convergence of forces. The imaginative power of science fiction, long a niche genre, exploded into the mainstream, providing a rich vocabulary of themes and narratives for songwriters to draw upon. Simultaneously, a revolution was happening in the recording studio. The development of new musical technologies – synthesizers that could generate sounds never before heard on Earth, echo and delay units that could simulate the vastness of space, and multi-track recording techniques that allowed for the creation of complex sonic landscapes – gave artists the tools to not only write songs aboutspace but to create music that sonically inhabited a cosmic realm.

The result is a remarkable and diverse catalog of music that charts our changing relationship with the universe and, in turn, with ourselves. An evolutionary arc is clear. Early songs were often direct, optimistic responses to the Space Race, celebrating the adventure and romance of the final frontier. As the initial excitement waned and the counterculture of the late 1960s and 1970s took hold, the theme of space began to shift. It became a powerful metaphor for internal states. The lonely astronaut, floating in a tin can far above the world, became a symbol for personal isolation. The psychedelic voyage through the stars mirrored the exploration of the inner mind. For Afrofuturist pioneers, space became a mythological realm of liberation and empowerment.

This article embarks on a journey through this musical cosmos, exploring 50 of the most significant space-related songs ever recorded. It is a voyage that spans decades and genres, from the swinging optimism of the early ’60s to the complex, synthesized soundscapes of the electronic age and the introspective explorations of modern alternative rock. Each song is a star in a larger constellation, a story that tells us not only about where we dreamed of going, but about who we were, and who we have become, here on the third stone from the sun.

The Pioneers: Charting the New Frontier

The dawn of the Space Age was a time of collective wonder and ambition. As humanity took its first tentative steps beyond Earth’s atmosphere, a generation of musicians was there to capture the zeitgeist. The songs from this pioneering era are characterized by a sense of novelty, optimism, and a direct engagement with the events unfolding in the skies above. They were the first to translate the hum of satellites and the roar of rockets into the language of popular music, creating a sonic foundation for all the cosmic journeys that would follow.

Frank Sinatra – “Fly Me to the Moon”

Though written by Bart Howard in 1954, it was Frank Sinatra’s iconic 1964 recording that transformed “Fly Me to the Moon” from a simple jazz standard into the unofficial anthem of the Apollo space program. The song itself is a love ballad, a plea for an all-encompassing romance that fills the singer’s heart with song and wonder. Yet, in the context of the 1960s, its lyrics took on a powerful second meaning. Lines like “Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars” were no longer just poetic hyperbole; they resonated with a world that was actively reaching for those destinations.

Sinatra’s version, arranged by Quincy Jones, is a masterclass in swinging, confident optimism. The lush orchestration and brassy fanfare perfectly captured the bold, adventurous spirit of the era. It was the sound of a culture that believed anything was possible, even a trip to the moon. This connection was not merely symbolic. The song became a favorite of NASA astronauts and was reportedly among the music played by the crew of Apollo 10 as they orbited the moon. Most famously, Apollo 11 astronaut Buzz Aldrin played it on a portable cassette player after he stepped onto the lunar surface, making it one of the first pieces of music to be heard on another world.

This cemented the song’s legacy. It was no longer just a product of its time; it was an active participant in one of the most significant moments in human history. “Fly Me to the Moon” demonstrates the power of cultural context to reshape art. A song about love became a song about exploration, its romantic yearning repurposed to express a collective aspiration. It stands as a testament to a time when the dreams of science and the dreams of popular culture were perfectly aligned, soaring together toward the stars.

The Tornados – “Telstar”

Released in 1962, “Telstar” was a sonic thunderbolt, a piece of music that sounded as futuristic and alien as the satellite it was named for. Produced by the visionary and famously eccentric Joe Meek, the instrumental track was a revolutionary piece of studio craft that captured the sound of the Space Age. It became the first single by a British group to reach number one on the US Billboard Hot 100, a feat accomplished more than a year before The Beatles would lead the British Invasion.

The track’s otherworldly sound was largely achieved through Meek’s innovative use of a clavioline, an early electronic keyboard that was a forerunner to the synthesizer. The instrument’s eerie, high-pitched melody, combined with swirling sound effects created by running recordings backward and manipulating tape speeds, evoked the feeling of a signal being beamed down from orbit. Meek recorded the track in his makeshift studio in a small London apartment, using custom-built equipment and unconventional techniques to create a sound that was unlike anything else on the radio. The song’s driving rhythm and catchy melody were grounded in rock and roll, but its sonic palette was pure science fiction.

“Telstar” was a direct response to a specific technological achievement – the launch of the Telstar communications satellite in July 1962. It was a musical commemoration of a new era, a celebration of human ingenuity. The song’s success was global, selling millions of copies and winning an Ivor Novello Award. It became a defining sound of the early ’60s, a perfect encapsulation of the excitement and wonder that surrounded the dawn of space exploration. More than just a novelty hit, “Telstar” was a landmark in music production, demonstrating how the recording studio itself could be used as an instrument to create new and imaginative soundscapes. It set a precedent for the experimental and futuristic sounds that would define the emerging genre of space rock.

The Byrds – “Mr. Spaceman”

Bridging the gap between the literal celebrations of the Space Age and the more metaphorical explorations to come, The Byrds’ “Mr. Spaceman” is a whimsical and pioneering piece of country rock. Released in 1966 on the album Fifth Dimension, the song is a friendly plea for extraterrestrial contact, set to the band’s signature jangling Rickenbacker guitar sound and a distinctly country-inflected rhythm.

The song’s creation was rooted in the genuine beliefs of band members Jim (later Roger) McGuinn and David Crosby. Both were fascinated by the possibility of alien life and the growing UFO phenomenon. They held a sincere hope that by broadcasting “Mr. Spaceman” on AM radio, they could send a message to potential alien visitors and initiate contact. McGuinn later learned that AM radio waves dissipate too quickly in space for this to be a viable method, but the earnestness of the attempt speaks to the cultural atmosphere of the time. This was the era that gave birth to Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek, a series that, like “Mr. Spaceman,” presented a hopeful and curious vision of humanity’s place in the cosmos.

The song’s lyrics are playful and direct: “Woke up this morning with light in my eyes / And then realized it was still dark outside / It was a light coming down from the sky / I don’t know who or why.” The narrator is not fearful but excited, asking to be taken for a ride. This lighthearted tone was amplified by the band’s management, who issued a spoof press release announcing a one-million-dollar insurance policy against the band being abducted. Musically, the track was an important step in the development of country rock, a genre The Byrds would fully explore on their seminal 1968 album, Sweetheart of the Rodeo. “Mr. Spaceman” blended the folk-rock sound they had helped to create with country elements, creating a fresh and influential hybrid that perfectly suited its down-to-earth yet forward-looking theme.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience – “Third Stone from the Sun”

A sprawling, experimental piece from their 1967 debut album Are You Experienced, “Third Stone from the Sun” was a radical departure from the conventions of rock and roll. It is a largely instrumental composition that masterfully fuses elements of jazz, psychedelic rock, and science fiction, creating a sonic landscape that is both chaotic and meticulously structured. The title itself is a direct reference to Earth, reflecting Jimi Hendrix’s deep interest in science fiction and cosmic themes.

The track is built in several distinct sections. It opens with shimmering, arpeggiated guitar chords that have been described as “Coltranoid,” a nod to the influence of jazz saxophonist John Coltrane. This gives way to a memorable, melodic guitar line played in octaves, a technique influenced by jazz guitarist Wes Montgomery. This structured opening soon dissolves into a free-form “soundscape.” Here, Hendrix unleashes the full potential of his Fender Stratocaster and his innovative use of studio effects. The guitar ceases to be a traditional melodic instrument and becomes a source of pure texture and noise: screams, sirens, explosions, and the hum of alien machinery, all forged from controlled feedback and the manipulation of his guitar’s vibrato arm and switches.

Interspersed throughout this musical journey are spoken-word passages, recorded by Hendrix and his manager Chas Chandler, with their voices slowed down and manipulated to sound alien. The dialogue depicts a conversation between extraterrestrial scouts observing Earth, who ultimately decide that the planet’s inhabitants are too primitive and warlike to be worthy of contact, concluding with the chilling observation, “And you’ll never hear surf music again.” This narrative adds a layer of dark humor and social commentary to the piece. “Third Stone from the Sun” was a groundbreaking work that expanded the vocabulary of rock music, demonstrating how instrumental music could be used to create complex, cinematic narratives and otherworldly atmospheres. It stands as a foundational text of space rock, influencing countless musicians with its fearless experimentation and cosmic vision.

The Lonely Astronaut: Tales of Exploration and Isolation

As the initial euphoria of the Space Race began to fade, the figure of the astronaut underwent a transformation in the cultural imagination. No longer just a heroic symbol of national achievement, the astronaut became a vessel for more complex and personal themes. Songwriters began to look past the technological marvel of space travel to consider the human cost: the significant solitude, the detachment from earthly life, and the psychological weight of being utterly alone in the cosmos. This archetype of the lonely astronaut became a powerful metaphor for feelings of alienation, introspection, and the search for meaning in a world that often felt distant and strange.

This shift is perhaps best exemplified by the multi-song narrative of Major Tom. Introduced in David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” as a tragic figure lost to the void, the character became a recurring touchstone in popular music. Bowie himself resurrected Major Tom a decade later in “Ashes to Ashes,” recasting his cosmic journey as a metaphor for drug addiction, revealing him to be a “junkie, strung out in heaven’s high.” The story was then picked up by German artist Peter Schilling in “Major Tom (Coming Home),” which provided an unofficial sequel filtered through the lens of New Wave and Cold War anxieties. This lineage demonstrates how a single, potent character can evolve over time, adapted by different artists to reflect the changing musical and cultural concerns of their eras. The lonely astronaut became a shared cultural symbol, a timeless representation of the human condition set against the infinite backdrop of space.

David Bowie – “Space Oddity”

Released in July 1969, just days before the Apollo 11 moon landing, David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” became the definitive anthem of the lonely astronaut. While the public and the BBC alike embraced it as a soundtrack for a triumphant moment in history, the song’s narrative is one of tragedy and existential dread. It tells the story of Major Tom, an astronaut whose mission goes awry, leaving him stranded in his “tin can, far above the world,” his connection to Ground Control and all of humanity severed.

The song was heavily inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey. Bowie was captivated by the film’s depiction of space as both beautiful and terrifying, and he saw the figure of the astronaut as a powerful symbol for his own feelings of alienation and isolation as he struggled to find his footing in the music industry. The lyrics capture a sense of awe (“Planet Earth is blue / And there’s nothing I can do”) that quickly curdles into a quiet, resigned despair.

The production, overseen by Gus Dudgeon, was as innovative as the song’s concept. It builds from a simple acoustic guitar intro into a cinematic crescendo of strings, Mellotron, and drums that simulates the power of liftoff. One of the song’s most distinctive sounds is the ethereal, warbling melody played on a Stylophone, a small, stylus-operated synthesizer. The track’s structure, which alternates between the calm, conversational exchanges between Ground Control and Major Tom and the explosive, instrumental sections, creates a dynamic sense of drama and tension. “Space Oddity” was Bowie’s first major hit and introduced the world to his genius for creating compelling characters and narratives. Major Tom became his first great persona, an enduring archetype of modern isolation that would echo throughout his career and the wider world of popular music.

Elton John – “Rocket Man”

If “Space Oddity” captured the existential drama of space travel, Elton John’s “Rocket Man” brought it down to Earth. Released in 1972, the song presents a more mundane and melancholy portrait of the astronaut’s life. The inspiration for the lyrics, written by Bernie Taupin, came from two primary sources: the song “Rocket Man” by the psychedelic folk band Pearls Before Swine, and, more significantly, Ray Bradbury’s 1951 short story “The Rocket Man.” Bradbury’s story depicts a future where being an astronaut is a routine, blue-collar job, a lonely profession that constantly pulls a man away from his family.

Taupin’s lyrics brilliantly capture this sense of workaday weariness. The astronaut is not a hero on a grand adventure; he’s a man doing a job. “She packed my bags last night, pre-flight,” he sings, a line that could describe any business traveler. The chorus expresses a significant sense of isolation and misunderstanding: “I’m not the man they think I am at home / Oh no, no, no, I’m a rocket man / Rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone.” Space is not a place of wonder, but a cold, lonely workplace: “Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids / In fact it’s cold as hell.”

Elton John’s music perfectly complements the lyrics’ wistful tone. The song is built around his signature piano playing and a gentle, floating melody. The arrangement is filled with atmospheric touches, including an ARP synthesizer that creates a sense of cosmic drift and, most notably, Davey Johnstone’s soaring, lyrical slide guitar, which adds a layer of aching beauty to the track. “Rocket Man” demystified the astronaut, transforming him from a larger-than-life figure into a relatable human being grappling with loneliness and the distance, both literal and emotional, from the ones he loves. It remains one of Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s most enduring and beloved creations.

The Killers – “Spaceman”

Decades after Bowie and Elton John established the lonely astronaut archetype, The Killers revitalized it for a new generation with their 2008 hit “Spaceman.” Frontman Brandon Flowers explicitly cited “Space Oddity” and “Rocket Man” as inspirations, aiming to create a song that blended their classic themes with The Killers’ own brand of high-energy, synth-driven rock. The result is a frantic, anthemic track that uses the language of space travel and alien abduction to explore themes of trauma, mental health, and existential disorientation.

The song’s lyrics are deliberately ambiguous, allowing for multiple interpretations. On the surface, it’s a literal story of a man who has been abducted by aliens and returned to Earth, struggling to make sense of his experience. He sings of being “abducted by a flying saucer” and having his “blood type” and “vitals” taken. This experience has left him fundamentally changed, seeing the world from a new, unsettling perspective. The chorus introduces the “Star maker” and “Dream maker,” which can be read as the voices of his alien captors or, more metaphorically, as the conflicting voices in his own head.

Many listeners have interpreted the song as a metaphor for a failed suicide attempt or a near-death experience. In this reading, the “abduction” is the traumatic event, and the “spaceman” is a figure – perhaps a doctor or a spiritual guide – who offers a new perspective on life, telling him, “it’s all in your mind.” This interpretation gives the song a darker, more personal resonance, transforming it into a story of survival and the struggle to reintegrate into the world after a significant crisis. Musically, “Spaceman” is a burst of energy, with a driving beat, pulsating synthesizers, and a soaring, sing-along chorus. It’s a testament to the enduring power of the spaceman narrative as a way to explore our deepest fears and our most significant moments of revelation.

Peter Schilling – “Major Tom (Coming Home)”

In 1983, German musician Peter Schilling released “Major Tom (Völlig losgelöst),” an unofficial but widely accepted sequel to David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” The English-language version, “Major Tom (Coming Home),” became a massive international hit, bringing the story of the stranded astronaut into the heart of the New Wave era. Schilling’s song is a fascinating piece of pop-culture mythology, a fan’s continuation of a story that had captured the world’s imagination.

The track picks up where “Space Oddity” left off, with Major Tom still in space, his connection to Earth long since severed. the tone is markedly different. While Bowie’s song was a folk-rock ballad steeped in existential melancholy, Schilling’s is a piece of crisp, synth-driven pop. It reflects the technological and political atmosphere of the early ’80s, a world of computers, Cold War tensions, and a growing sense of detachment.

In Schilling’s narrative, Major Tom’s isolation is no longer a tragic accident but a conscious choice. Ground Control’s messages of concern go unheeded as Tom finds a new sense of purpose and direction. “Now the light commands me and I call it home,” he declares, suggesting a transcendent, almost spiritual experience. He is no longer lost; he has found a new home among the stars, and the repeated refrain of “coming home” is deeply ironic. He is not returning to Earth, but embracing his new cosmic existence. The song’s driving electronic beat and catchy synthesizer melody gave the story a new energy, transforming Major Tom from a passive victim of fate into an active agent of his own destiny. It’s a testament to the enduring power of Bowie’s original creation that it could inspire such a compelling and successful reinterpretation a decade and a half later.

Harry Nilsson – “Spaceman”

Released in 1972, the same year as “Rocket Man,” Harry Nilsson’s “Spaceman” offers a decidedly different and more frantic take on the lonely astronaut narrative. While his contemporaries explored the melancholy and weariness of space travel, Nilsson’s protagonist is in a state of outright panic and desperation. He is stranded in space, and he wants nothing more than to come home.

The song, from the classic album Son of Schmilsson, is a masterclass in tonal contrast. The music is an upbeat, jaunty, piano-driven pop tune, complete with a catchy chorus and a lively arrangement. This cheerful musical setting is completely at odds with the terror expressed in the lyrics. The astronaut sings, “I wanted to be a spaceman / That’s what I wanted to be / But now that I am a spaceman / I don’t want to be.” He recounts his journey, from the excitement of liftoff to the horrifying realization that he is trapped. “Bang! My ship blew up and I was gone,” he sings, his predicament laid bare.

The chorus is a desperate plea: “Oh, I’m a spaceman / And I’m wanting to go home.” Unlike Major Tom’s resigned acceptance or the Rocket Man’s weary professionalism, Nilsson’s spaceman is a man who has made a terrible mistake and is paying an unbearable price. The song’s tragicomic tone is pure Nilsson, a songwriter who excelled at finding the humor in heartbreak and the absurdity in tragedy. “Spaceman” serves as a valuable counterpoint to the more somber astronaut ballads of the era, reminding us that for all its potential for wonder, the fantasy of space travel could also be a terrifying nightmare.

Psychedelic Voyages: The Inner and Outer Cosmos

As the 1960s progressed, the exploration of outer space found a powerful parallel in the exploration of inner space. The rise of psychedelic culture, with its emphasis on expanding consciousness and altering perception, transformed the cosmos from a physical destination into a vast and potent metaphor for the human mind. For a new generation of rock musicians, the stars, galaxies, and alien worlds of science fiction became the perfect language to describe the strange, beautiful, and sometimes frightening landscapes of the psychedelic experience.

This thematic shift was enabled and amplified by a revolution in musical technology. The connection between the sound of space rock and the tools used to create it is not a coincidence; it’s a symbiosis. The development of new instruments and studio effects was essential in allowing artists to translate their cosmic visions into sound. Early electronic keyboards like the clavioline gave way to more sophisticated synthesizers. The haunting, orchestral textures of the Mellotron became a staple. Most importantly, effects units like the Binson Echorec and the Roland Space Echo allowed guitarists and drummers to manipulate sound in unprecedented ways, creating swirling delays and vast reverbs that sonically simulated the infinite expanse of space. This fusion of theme and technology gave birth to space rock, a genre where the music was not just about the cosmos, but actively sought to transport the listener there.

Pink Floyd – “Astronomy Domine”

The thundering opening track of Pink Floyd’s 1967 debut, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, “Astronomy Domine” is a foundational text of space rock. Written and sung by the band’s brilliant and mercurial leader, Syd Barrett, the song immediately establishes a cosmic atmosphere. It begins with the crackling voice of their then-manager, Peter Jenner, reading the names of stars and galaxies through a megaphone, an effect that makes him sound like a distant, otherworldly mission controller. A series of beeps, like a satellite signal, gives way to a menacing, descending chromatic guitar riff from Barrett.

The lyrics are a kaleidoscopic collage of celestial imagery, a journey through the solar system that is both awe-inspiring and slightly menacing. “Jupiter and Saturn, Oberon, Miranda and Titania / Neptune, Titan, stars can frighten,” sing Barrett and keyboardist Richard Wright, their voices blending in an eerie harmony. The song’s title itself, a blend of science and mock-Latin, suggests a kind of cosmic chant or hymn.

Musically, “Astronomy Domine” was a groundbreaking piece of psychedelic rock. Barrett’s Fender Esquire guitar is drenched in echo from a Binson Echorec unit, creating swirling, disorienting delay effects that became a hallmark of the band’s early sound. Richard Wright’s Farfisa organ provides a swirling, hypnotic backdrop, while Roger Waters’ bass and Nick Mason’s drums lock into a powerful, driving rhythm. The song’s structure is dynamic, moving from the heavy, riff-based verses to more atmospheric instrumental sections before building back to a powerful climax. It was the perfect opening statement from a band that would go on to become the undisputed masters of cosmic rock, a powerful and disorienting trip that launched both their career and a new musical genre.

Pink Floyd – “Interstellar Overdrive”

If “Astronomy Domine” was the launch sequence, “Interstellar Overdrive” was the journey into the chaotic, unknown depths of deep space. Also from The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, this nearly ten-minute instrumental was the centerpiece of Pink Floyd’s early live performances and a radical piece of musical experimentation. It pushed the boundaries of what a rock song could be, abandoning traditional structure in favor of extended, free-form improvisation.

The piece is bookended by a powerful, descending, and distorted guitar riff. This central theme, which Syd Barrett reportedly developed by trying to interpret his manager’s humming of an unknown song, serves as a launching point and a final destination. After its initial statement, the riff dissolves into a long, abstract middle section. This is where the “overdrive” truly begins. The band embarks on a collective improvisation, a sonic exploration that is at times quiet and meditative, and at others, loud and chaotic. Richard Wright coaxes strange, percussive sounds from his Farfisa organ, while Barrett’s guitar becomes a tool for creating pure texture and noise, using feedback, slide, and his tremolo bar to create a soundscape of cosmic phenomena.

The structure of the piece mirrors a psychedelic journey: a departure from a recognizable reality, a period of disorientation and sensory overload, and a final, gradual return to the starting point. The band’s live versions of “Interstellar Overdrive” were even more adventurous, often stretching to twenty minutes or more as they explored the outer limits of their musical imaginations. The track was heavily influenced by the free-form improvisations of avant-garde jazz and experimental artists like Frank Zappa. It was a bold statement that established Pink Floyd as one of the most forward-thinking bands of the psychedelic era and a cornerstone of the developing space rock genre.

The Rolling Stones – “2000 Light Years from Home”

While The Rolling Stones are not typically associated with space rock, their brief but potent foray into psychedelia on the 1967 album Their Satanic Majesties Request produced one of the genre’s most enduring and atmospheric anthems. “2000 Light Years from Home” is a masterpiece of psychedelic mood, a song that uses the immense distance of space as a metaphor for significant personal isolation.

The song’s lyrics were reportedly written by Mick Jagger while he was in Brixton prison on drug charges. This context imbues the song with a palpable sense of confinement and separation. “It’s so very lonely, you’re a hundred light years from home,” he sings, his voice detached and weary. The cosmic setting is a projection of his inner state, a vast, cold emptiness that mirrors his feelings of being cut off from his world.

The key to the song’s otherworldly sound is the brilliant multi-instrumentalist Brian Jones. His use of the Mellotron, an early tape-replay keyboard, is central to the track’s eerie atmosphere. The instrument’s haunting, flute-like melody and dissonant, swirling string textures create a sonic landscape that is both beautiful and unsettling. The track also features a droning piano part played by Nicky Hopkins and a pulsing, oscillator-driven bassline from Bill Wyman, all of which contribute to the song’s hypnotic, disorienting feel. “2000 Light Years from Home” stands as a highlight of the Stones’ most experimental period, a powerful and evocative track that proves that even the world’s most famous rock and roll band was not immune to the cosmic pull of the psychedelic era.

David Bowie – “Starman”

After exploring the tragic isolation of the astronaut in “Space Oddity,” David Bowie offered a far more hopeful and celebratory vision of extraterrestrial contact with “Starman.” A pivotal track from his 1972 concept album The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, “Starman” is a piece of pure glam rock ecstasy that positions the alien as a rock-and-roll savior.

The song’s narrative is told from the perspective of a young person on Earth who hears a mysterious message being broadcast through the radio. A “starman waiting in the sky” has a message of hope for the planet’s youth, telling them not to “blow it” because they are not alone. This is a direct contrast to the lonely, one-way communication of “Space Oddity.” Here, the connection is communal and electrifying, a secret shared among the “kids” that the adults don’t understand. The alien is not a lost soul, but a charismatic messenger of a new age.

The music is as uplifting as the lyrics. The song builds from a gentle, acoustic verse to a soaring, triumphant chorus that is one of the most iconic in Bowie’s catalog. The string arrangement by Mick Ronson adds a layer of cinematic grandeur, while the band’s tight, driving performance gives the track an irresistible energy. Bowie’s performance of “Starman” on the British television show Top of the Pops in July 1972 is a legendary moment in music history. With his flame-orange hair, androgynous jumpsuit, and an arm draped casually over guitarist Mick Ronson’s shoulder, Bowie brought the character of Ziggy Stardust – the alien rock star – to life, shocking and inspiring a generation of viewers. “Starman” was more than just a song; it was a cultural event that cemented Bowie’s status as a superstar and defined the hopeful, escapist promise of glam rock.

David Bowie – “Life on Mars?”

A surreal and cinematic masterpiece from the 1971 album Hunky Dory, “Life on Mars?” is one of David Bowie’s most complex and beloved songs. It uses the titular question not as a literal inquiry into extraterrestrial life, but as a jumping-off point for a sweeping, impressionistic critique of escapism, media, and the banality of modern existence. The song is a whirlwind of vivid, disconnected images, all seen through the eyes of a “girl with the mousy hair” who is disillusioned with her reality and seeks refuge in the fantasy world of the cinema.

The lyrics are a dense, poetic collage. She sees “sailors fighting in the dance hall” and “the lawman beating up the wrong guy,” a grim reality that is contrasted with the hollow glamour of the silver screen. The song is filled with cultural references, from John Lennon to Mickey Mouse, all of which contribute to its dreamlike, fragmented quality. The central question, “Is there life on Mars?”, becomes a cry of existential longing, a desperate search for meaning and wonder in a world that seems to offer none.

The song’s musical arrangement is as grand and ambitious as its lyrical themes. The centerpiece is the brilliant piano performance by Rick Wakeman, who was then a session musician and would soon go on to join the progressive rock band Yes. His playing is intricate and dynamic, moving from delicate, classically-inflected passages to powerful, dramatic chords. The song builds to a stunning, string-laden crescendo, with a soaring vocal performance from Bowie that is filled with passion and yearning. “Life on Mars?” is a perfect fusion of surrealist poetry and epic musicality, a song that manages to make the mundane feel cosmic and the cosmic feel deeply personal. It is a timeless piece of art that continues to captivate listeners with its beauty, mystery, and emotional power.

Black Sabbath – “Planet Caravan”

Appearing on their landmark 1970 album Paranoid, “Planet Caravan” was a startling and beautiful departure for Black Sabbath. Nestled between the heavy, proto-metal riffs of songs like “War Pigs” and “Iron Man,” this gentle, psychedelic ballad revealed a completely different side of the band. It is a serene and dreamlike journey through the cosmos, showcasing a subtlety and atmospheric depth that few would have expected from the architects of heavy metal.

The song’s most distinctive feature is Ozzy Osbourne’s vocal performance. His voice is processed through a Leslie speaker, a rotating speaker cabinet typically used with Hammond organs. This effect gives his vocals a watery, shimmering, and otherworldly quality, making him sound as if he is singing from a great distance or from within a dream. The lyrics, written by bassist Geezer Butler, are simple and poetic, describing a peaceful voyage through space with a lover: “We sail through endless skies / Stars shine like eyes / The black night sighs.”

The musical arrangement is equally atmospheric. Tony Iommi’s guitar is clean and jazzy, a far cry from his usual distorted, heavy sound. Bill Ward forgoes a traditional drum kit in favor of gentle, hypnotic congas, and the track is further enhanced by a delicate piano part played by album engineer Tom Allom. In a final touch of psychedelic experimentation, Iommi overdubbed a flute part onto the track. “Planet Caravan” is a testament to Black Sabbath’s versatility and their connection to the wider psychedelic culture of the time. It’s a moment of calm in the storm of their early albums, a trippy, mellow anthem that proved the band had far more creative dimensions than their critics often acknowledged.

Rush – “Cygnus X-1”

A monumental two-part progressive rock epic, “Cygnus X-1” showcases Rush at their most ambitious and conceptual. The story begins with “Book I: The Voyage” on their 1977 album A Farewell to Kings and concludes with “Book II: Hemispheres” which comprises the entire first side of the 1978 album of the same name. Written by drummer and lyricist Neil Peart, the saga is a complex science fiction narrative that uses cosmic exploration to dig into significant philosophical themes.

“Book I” tells the story of an explorer who pilots his starship, the Rocinante, into a black hole in the constellation of Cygnus. The music is a tour de force of progressive rock, filled with complex time signatures, virtuosic instrumental passages, and dramatic shifts in mood and tempo. Geddy Lee’s bass playing is intricate and driving, Alex Lifeson’s guitar work ranges from heavy, distorted riffs to atmospheric textures, and Peart’s drumming is a polyrhythmic powerhouse. The track builds in intensity as the Rocinante approaches the black hole, culminating in a chaotic and disorienting climax as the ship is pulled apart by the immense gravitational forces.

“Book II” picks up the story as the explorer emerges from the black hole into the mythical realm of Olympus. There, he finds himself in the midst of a conflict between the gods Apollo, representing reason and logic, and Dionysus, representing love and emotion. The narrative explores the struggle for balance between these two opposing forces, both within society and within the individual. The explorer, reborn as Cygnus, the God of Balance, ultimately brings an end to the conflict by showing that a synthesis of heart and mind is necessary for a complete and harmonious existence. “Cygnus X-1” is a quintessential example of progressive rock’s grand-scale storytelling, a challenging and rewarding musical journey that uses the canvas of space to explore the deepest questions of human nature.

Afrofuturist Visions: Liberation Through the Stars

For a visionary group of Black artists, space was more than just a theme for songs; it was a powerful mythological landscape, a realm of possibility where new futures could be imagined and new identities could be forged. This artistic and philosophical movement, known as Afrofuturism, blends elements of science fiction, fantasy, and history to address the concerns of the African diaspora and to envision a future free from the constraints of earthly oppression. In the hands of these pioneers, rockets became modern-day chariots, aliens became spiritual guides, and the cosmos became the ultimate destination for liberation and self-determination.

Sun Ra – “Space Is the Place”

“Space Is the Place” is not merely a song; it is the central thesis of the entire artistic and philosophical universe of Sun Ra. A bandleader, composer, pianist, and poet, Sun Ra was one of the most prolific and enigmatic figures in the history of jazz. He claimed to have been born on Saturn and sent to Earth on a mission to preach peace and save the Black race through music. “Space Is the Place,” the title track of his 1973 album and the accompanying film, is the ultimate expression of this mission.

The song is a sprawling, joyous, and chaotic piece of avant-garde jazz. It is built around a simple, chanted mantra, often led by the powerful and ethereal voice of June Tyson, the longtime female vocalist of his band, the Arkestra. The repeated declaration that “Space is the place” serves as a call to action, an invitation to leave behind the confines of a racist and oppressive Earth and build a new, better world in the cosmos. The music is a swirling vortex of sound, blending elements of big band swing, free jazz improvisation, African rhythms, and early electronic experimentation. Sun Ra’s keyboard work, on instruments like the Minimoog and Farfisa organ, creates a soundscape of futuristic textures, while the Arkestra’s horn section unleashes waves of both dissonant squalls and triumphant fanfares.

In the film of the same name, Sun Ra arrives in Oakland, California in his spaceship to recruit African Americans for his new space colony. The song serves as the soundtrack for this mission of liberation, a musical vehicle for transporting his people to a utopian future. “Space Is the Place” is a foundational work of Afrofuturism, a powerful fusion of radical politics, spiritual mythology, and groundbreaking music that continues to inspire artists and thinkers to this day.

Parliament – “Mothership Connection (Star Child)”

While Sun Ra charted a course for the cosmos through the avant-garde, George Clinton and Parliament brought Afrofuturism to the dance floor. The title track from their 1975 masterpiece, Mothership Connection, is a joyous and deeply funky invitation to a new kind of salvation. The album built a complex and playful mythology, known as the P-Funk mythology, which used science fiction tropes to celebrate Black culture and preach a gospel of liberation through funk.

The song introduces one of Clinton’s key personas, Star Child, an intergalactic messenger who has arrived on the Mothership to bring “the funk” to the people of Earth. The lyrics cleverly blend sci-fi imagery with references to African American spirituals. The chorus chants, “Swing down, sweet chariot, stop and let me ride,” recasting the traditional spiritual as a call for rescue by a spaceship. In Clinton’s vision, the Mothership is a vehicle for both physical and spiritual transport, a way to escape the mundane and ascend to a higher plane of consciousness.

The music is a tour de force of funk. The track is built on an irresistible, bubbling bassline from the legendary Bootsy Collins, who had recently joined the P-Funk collective after his time with James Brown. The rhythm is locked in by drummer Jerome Brailey, creating a deep, infectious groove. Layered on top are the shimmering, cosmic synthesizer textures of Bernie Worrell and the tight, powerful horn arrangements of Fred Wesley and Maceo Parker, also veterans of James Brown’s band. The combination of deep groove, gospel-inflected call-and-response vocals, and futuristic synthesizer sounds created a sound that was both earthy and otherworldly. “Mothership Connection (Star Child)” was a cultural phenomenon, a song that not only defined the sound of P-Funk but also created a powerful and enduring mythology of Black empowerment and cosmic celebration.

Electronic Worlds: Synthesizing the Sound of the Future

While rock bands used guitars and drums to imagine the sound of space, a new generation of artists, primarily in Europe, turned to a different set of tools. Armed with synthesizers, sequencers, and vocoders, these electronic pioneers moved beyond interpreting the cosmos and began to construct it from pure sound. They created immersive, otherworldly soundscapes that were not just about the future, but sounded like the future itself. Their music was often instrumental, allowing the listener to project their own narratives onto the vast, synthesized landscapes they created. This was the sound of humanity’s relationship with technology made manifest, a new musical language for a new, electronic age.

Kraftwerk – “Spacelab”

From their seminal 1978 album The Man-Machine, “Spacelab” is a perfect example of Kraftwerk’s clean, melodic, and significantly influential electronic sound. The German quartet were pioneers of electronic music, and their work explored the relationship between humanity and technology with a unique blend of sincerity and deadpan irony. “Spacelab” is a musical journey into orbit, a track that uses its minimalist structure and pristine synthesizer sounds to evoke the feeling of weightless, serene travel.

The song is built on a simple, repeating melodic motif played on a synthesizer, a sound that is both futuristic and deeply nostalgic. A steady, metronomic beat provides the rhythmic pulse, while layers of synthesized strings and atmospheric pads create a sense of vast, open space. The vocals, processed through a vocoder to give them a robotic quality, are sparse, simply stating the song’s title and describing the view from the orbiting laboratory. The effect is one of cool, detached observation, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil of the lonely astronaut archetype.

Kraftwerk’s music was meticulously crafted in their private Kling Klang studio in Düsseldorf. They used a variety of cutting-edge analog synthesizers of the day, including the Moog Minimoog and the ARP Odyssey, to create their signature sound. Their approach was one of precision and control, stripping music down to its essential elements of melody, rhythm, and texture. “Spacelab” is a masterpiece of electronic minimalism, a track that uses its technological purity to create a sound that is both a celebration of space exploration and a subtle commentary on the dehumanizing potential of a world increasingly mediated by machines.

Jean-Michel Jarre – “Oxygène (Part IV)”

In 1976, French composer Jean-Michel Jarre released Oxygène, an album of instrumental electronic music that would go on to sell millions of copies worldwide and become a landmark of the genre. The album’s most famous track, “Oxygène (Part IV),” became a global hit, its bubbling, infectious melody and lush, atmospheric sound capturing the public’s imagination.

The track was created in Jarre’s home studio, using a collection of analog synthesizers and a multi-track tape recorder. The song’s signature element is its main melodic line, a playful, percolating sequence that has an almost liquid quality. This was reportedly created on an EMS Synthi AKS synthesizer. This melody is set against a backdrop of sweeping, ethereal pads and a simple, repeating drum machine pattern, creating a sound that is both futuristic and warmly organic. One of the key instruments used was the RMI Harmonic Synthesizer, which contributed to the track’s distinctive textures.

Unlike the cool, conceptual music of Kraftwerk, Jarre’s work was unabashedly melodic and romantic. “Oxygène (Part IV)” is a piece of music that evokes a powerful sense of wonder and discovery. Its title suggests a life-giving atmosphere, and the music itself feels bright, optimistic, and full of movement. It became an instrumental standard, used in countless films, television shows, and commercials to evoke a sense of technological progress and futuristic vision. It was a key track in bringing electronic music from the experimental underground into the pop mainstream, proving that synthesizers could be used to create music that was not only innovative but also deeply accessible and emotionally resonant.

Vangelis – “Blade Runner Blues”

Though it was created for the soundtrack of Ridley Scott’s 1982 science fiction masterpiece, Blade Runner, Vangelis’s “Blade Runner Blues” stands on its own as a monumental piece of electronic music. It is a masterclass in atmospheric world-building, a track that uses its synthesized textures to evoke a complete and immersive vision of a melancholy, rain-soaked future.

The key to the track’s significant emotional depth is Vangelis’s masterful use of the Yamaha CS-80, a legendary and notoriously complex analog synthesizer. The CS-80 was one of the first polyphonic synthesizers, and it featured a pressure-sensitive keyboard that allowed for an incredible degree of expressive control, enabling Vangelis to play with a nuance and sensitivity that was closer to an acoustic instrument than a typical synthesizer. This expressiveness is on full display in “Blade Runner Blues.” The main melodic line is a mournful, blues-inflected theme that sounds like a futuristic saxophone, full of subtle bends and swells in volume.

This melody is set against a backdrop of deep, resonant bass notes and shimmering, atmospheric pads that create a sense of vast, empty urban spaces. The track perfectly captures the mood of the film – a sense of technological wonder tinged with a deep, existential sadness. It is the sound of a future that is both awe-inspiring and deeply lonely. “Blade Runner Blues” is a testament to the power of electronic music to convey complex emotions and create rich, cinematic landscapes. It remains one of the most iconic and influential pieces of electronic music ever recorded, a timeless evocation of a future that never was.

Daft Punk – “Contact”

The explosive final track of Daft Punk’s 2013 masterpiece, Random Access Memories, “Contact” is a thrilling and overwhelming piece of music that serves as a powerful conclusion to the album’s exploration of memory, technology, and human connection. The song is a journey in itself, building from a real-life piece of space history into a cataclysmic crescendo of sound.

The track begins with a sample of audio from the 1972 Apollo 17 mission, the last manned mission to the moon. The voice is that of astronaut Eugene Cernan, who is describing a strange, unidentified flashing object he is observing from the window of his capsule. “Hey, Bob, I’m lookin’ at what Jack was talkin’ about,” he says, his voice filled with a calm sense of wonder and confusion. “There’s something out there.” This sample, provided to the duo from NASA’s archives, sets a tone of mystery and awe. The choice of Cernan, the last human to walk on the lunar surface, is poignant, providing a bookend to an era of exploration that the album both celebrates and mourns.

From this atmospheric opening, the song begins to build. A simple organ riff gives way to a powerful, live drum beat played by Omar Hakim. Layers of analog synthesizers are gradually added, creating a rising sense of tension and anticipation. The track continues to build in intensity for several minutes, with the synthesizers becoming more distorted and chaotic, until it finally erupts into a wall of pure noise, a sonic representation of a spaceship breaking apart or a system overload. “Contact” is a stunning piece of musical storytelling, a track that uses its combination of historical artifact and futuristic sound to create a powerful and unforgettable sense of encountering the vast, terrifying, and beautiful unknown.

Air – “La Femme d’Argent”

The seductive opening track of Air’s 1998 debut album, Moon Safari, “La Femme d’Argent” (“The Silver Woman” or “The Money Girl”) perfectly established the French duo’s signature sound. It is a piece of music that is simultaneously retro and futuristic, a smooth, laid-back groove that came to define the “space age bachelor pad music” aesthetic. The track evokes a sophisticated and lounge-y vision of the cosmos, one that is less about high-stakes adventure and more about cosmic relaxation.

The song is built around a hypnotic and instantly memorable bassline, played on a Korg MS-20 synthesizer. This groovy, melodic foundation is the heart of the track, a perfect piece of downtempo funk. Layered on top are the shimmering, dreamy chords of a Fender Rhodes electric piano and the ethereal textures of a Solina String Ensemble synthesizer. The combination of these warm, analog sounds creates a rich and immersive atmosphere, a sound that is both comforting and coolly detached.

“La Femme d’Argent” is an instrumental track, but it tells a story through its mood and structure. It builds slowly and patiently, introducing new elements like a live drum beat and a brief, jazzy organ solo, before fading out on the same bassline that began the journey. It’s a piece of music that feels both timeless and deeply rooted in the late ’90s “chill-out” culture that Moon Safari helped to create. It is the perfect soundtrack for a journey to a moon that is less a desolate rock and more a chic, celestial cocktail lounge.

Tangerine Dream – “Phaedra”

The title track from Tangerine Dream’s 1974 album is a monumental piece of electronic music, a work that not only defined the band’s classic sound but also helped to create an entire subgenre known as the “Berlin School.” “Phaedra” was a radical departure from their earlier, more ambient work, and its defining feature was the groundbreaking use of an analog sequencer.

The track famously begins with a strange, warbling sound that slowly fades in, created by a VCS 3 synthesizer. This gives way to the song’s central element: a hypnotic, pulsing, and constantly shifting rhythmic pattern played on a Moog modular synthesizer and controlled by a Moog 960 analog sequencer. This was one of the first times a sequencer was used as a central rhythmic and melodic element in popular music, and its effect was revolutionary. The relentless, bubbling pulse created a sense of forward motion and hypnotic trance that would become a hallmark of the Berlin School sound.

Over this sequenced foundation, the members of Tangerine Dream – Edgar Froese, Christopher Franke, and Peter Baumann – add layers of atmospheric sound. Froese’s Mellotron flute melody provides a haunting, lyrical counterpoint to the machine-like rhythm of the sequencer, while washes of organ and synthesizer create a vast, immersive soundscape. The track evolves slowly over its nearly 18-minute runtime, a journey through a synthesized cosmos. Famously, the analog equipment of the time was highly sensitive to temperature, and as the synthesizers warmed up during the recording session, their oscillators began to drift out of tune, contributing to the track’s strange, morphing quality. “Phaedra” was a landmark album that brought electronic music to a wider audience and its title track remains a powerful and influential piece of sonic exploration.

The Modern Cosmos: Indie, Alternative, and Beyond

In the decades following the golden age of space rock, the cosmos has remained a potent and enduring source of inspiration for musicians. Artists in the indie, alternative, and electronic scenes have inherited the thematic and sonic language of their predecessors, reinterpreting it to reflect the anxieties and aspirations of a new era. For these modern explorers, space is less a physical destination and more a complex internal landscape. It is a metaphor for digital alienation, a backdrop for epic emotional dramas, and a source of aesthetic wonder. They continue to push the boundaries of sound, blending old and new technologies to create fresh and compelling visions of our place in the universe.

Radiohead – “Subterranean Homesick Alien”

A dreamy, melancholic centerpiece from Radiohead’s 1997 masterpiece, OK Computer, “Subterranean Homesick Alien” is a poignant expression of modern alienation. The title is a clever nod to Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” but where Dylan’s song was a frantic, street-level critique of society, Radiohead’s is a wistful, floating lament.

The song’s narrator, voiced by Thom Yorke, feels completely disconnected from the soulless conformity of his surroundings. “I live in a town where you can’t smell a thing / You watch your feet for cracks in the pavement,” he sings, a perfect description of a life lived without wonder or sensory engagement. His only hope for escape is a fantasy of being abducted by aliens. He imagines them taking him “on board their beautiful ship” and showing him “the world as I’d love to see it.” This encounter would give him a new perspective, a way to see the “meaning of life.” He knows that if he tried to share this revelation with his friends, “they’d think that I’d finally lost it completely,” but he would be “alright,” content in his newfound understanding.

The music perfectly captures this feeling of wistful detachment. The song is built on a foundation of shimmering, ethereal electric piano and layered guitars drenched in reverb and delay. The sound is lush and atmospheric, creating a sense of floating and weightlessness that mirrors the narrator’s desire to be lifted away from his mundane reality. Jonny Greenwood’s keyboard work adds to the otherworldly texture. “Subterranean Homesick Alien” is a beautiful and heartbreaking song, a modern anthem for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider in their own world and looked to the stars for a sense of belonging.

Spiritualized – “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space”

The title track from Spiritualized’s critically acclaimed 1997 album is a breathtaking piece of music, a symphony of heartbreak, drug-induced haze, and spiritual yearning. The song begins with a calm, detached female voice, like that of a flight attendant or a mission controller, announcing the album’s title. This sets a scene of serene, weightless travel that the music proceeds to both embody and significantly subvert.

The song is a masterful blend of disparate musical elements. It is built on a simple, repeated vocal mantra sung by Jason Pierce: “All I want in life’s a little bit of love to take the pain away.” This deeply personal and desperate plea is set against a backdrop that incorporates the melody of Pachelbel’s “Canon,” a piece of classical music famously associated with weddings, adding a layer of bitter irony to the song’s theme of lost love. As the track progresses, it builds in intensity, with layers of swirling guitars, orchestral strings, and the powerful, uplifting sound of the London Community Gospel Choir.

The result is a sound that is both immense and deeply intimate, a personal crisis rendered on a cosmic scale. The “floating in space” of the title is not a peaceful journey but a state of significant emotional and spiritual disorientation. The song is a testament to Jason Pierce’s genius as a composer and arranger, his ability to weave together elements of gospel, classical music, noise rock, and psychedelia into a cohesive and overwhelmingly emotional whole. It is the opening statement of a masterpiece album, a work that explores the depths of human suffering and the search for redemption in a vast and indifferent universe.

Muse – “Starlight”

A standout track from their 2006 album Black Holes and Revelations, “Starlight” is a soaring and romantic rock anthem that showcases Muse’s talent for creating music on an epic scale. The song is a powerful expression of longing, a message sent across a vast distance to a loved one. The cosmic theme of the album provides the perfect backdrop for this very human emotion.

The song is built around a driving, arpeggiated piano riff that gives it an immediate sense of urgency and momentum. Matt Bellamy’s vocal performance is passionate and dramatic, his voice rising to a powerful falsetto in the chorus. The lyrics are a declaration of devotion and a promise of return. “I will be chasing a starlight / Until the end of my life / I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore,” he sings, capturing a sense of both determination and doubt. The “starlight” can be interpreted as a literal star being pursued on a space journey, or as a metaphor for a distant goal or a person who feels impossibly far away.

The production is grand and cinematic, with a driving bassline, powerful drums, and layers of synthesizers that add to the song’s atmospheric quality. “Starlight” became one of Muse’s biggest international hits, its blend of heartfelt emotion and stadium-sized rock connecting with a massive audience. It’s a perfect example of how the band uses the grand, impersonal scale of the cosmos to amplify and explore the most intimate and universal of human feelings.

Muse – “Supermassive Black Hole”

Also from Black Holes and Revelations, “Supermassive Black Hole” was a bold and unexpected departure for Muse. The track saw the band moving away from their progressive and alternative rock roots to embrace the sounds of funk, dance-rock, and glam. The result was a swaggering, groovy, and irresistibly catchy song that became one of their most iconic hits.

The song was inspired by a diverse range of artists, including Prince, Kanye West, and several Belgian bands like dEUS and Soulwax, who were known for mixing R&B rhythms with alternative guitar. This influence is immediately apparent in the track’s fuzzed-out, bluesy guitar riff and its driving, danceable beat. Matt Bellamy’s vocals are a revelation, his voice soaring into a Prince-like falsetto that is both soulful and sexually charged.

The lyrics use the cosmic phenomenon of a black hole as a metaphor for an intense, irresistible attraction to a powerful woman. “Ooh, baby, don’t you know I’m a fool for you,” Bellamy sings, “You’re the queen of the superficial.” The supermassive black hole is a force of nature with a gravitational pull so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape it – a perfect analogy for an all-consuming infatuation. The song’s fusion of heavy guitar riffs, funky rhythms, and glam-rock attitude was a brilliant creative pivot for Muse, showcasing their versatility and their willingness to experiment. It’s a track that is both sonically adventurous and undeniably fun, a cosmic dance party at the edge of the universe.

Failure – “Another Space Song”

A key track from their influential 1996 album Fantastic Planet, “Another Space Song” exemplifies the sound and themes of the Los Angeles-based alternative rock band Failure. The album is a sprawling, ambitious work that is widely regarded as a classic of the ’90s space rock revival. Its lyrical themes often use the imagery of space travel and cosmic phenomena as a metaphor for drug addiction and emotional detachment.

“Another Space Song” is a perfect encapsulation of the band’s signature sound. It is built on a foundation of heavy, distorted, and down-tuned guitars, a melodic and propulsive bassline from Greg Edwards, and the powerful drumming of Kellii Scott. The song is a masterclass in dynamics, moving seamlessly between quiet, atmospheric verses and loud, explosive choruses. Ken Andrews’ vocals are melodic and often understated, creating a compelling contrast with the massive wall of sound created by the instruments.

The production on Fantastic Planet, handled by the band themselves, is dense and layered, creating a rich and immersive sonic environment. The guitars are fuzzy and warm, the bass is thick and present, and the overall sound has a weight and texture that feels both powerful and dreamlike. “Another Space Song,” like the album it comes from, is a journey through a dark and beautiful inner space, a piece of music that is both heavy and hypnotic. It’s a testament to the enduring power of space rock as a vehicle for exploring the darker, more complex corners of the human experience.

Hum – “Stars”

An anthemic and beloved track from the mid-’90s alternative rock scene, Hum’s “Stars” is a song defined by its monumental guitar sound. Released on their 1995 album You’d Prefer an Astronaut, the song became a surprise hit, its unique blend of heavy, shoegaze-influenced textures and melodic, heartfelt songwriting connecting with a wide audience.

The most distinctive feature of “Stars” is its massive, fuzzy, and layered wall of guitar. The band, particularly guitarists Matt Talbott and Tim Lash, were meticulous in crafting their sound. They used a combination of Gibson Les Paul guitars, Hiwatt and Orange amplifiers, and a technique of triple-tracking their guitar parts to create an incredibly thick and powerful sonic tapestry. The result is a sound that is both crushing and beautiful, a wave of distortion that washes over the listener.

Beneath this wall of sound is a song of surprising tenderness. Talbott’s vocals are soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the power of the instruments. The lyrics are poetic and evocative, using celestial imagery to describe a relationship and a sense of wonder. “She thinks she’s missed the train to Mars / She’s out back counting stars,” he sings in the iconic chorus. This dynamic between the gentle, introspective vocals and the overwhelming power of the guitars is what gives “Stars” its unique emotional resonance. It is a song that is simultaneously epic and intimate, a perfect fusion of shoegaze atmosphere, heavy rock power, and indie rock sensitivity.

Slowdive – “Souvlaki Space Station”

A mesmerizing highlight from their 1993 masterpiece, Souvlaki, “Souvlaki Space Station” is a prime example of the British band Slowdive pushing the boundaries of the shoegaze genre. The track is a deep, atmospheric dive into sound, heavily influenced by the rhythms and production techniques of dub reggae.

The song is built on a foundation of a deep, echoing bassline that serves as its hypnotic anchor. This dub-influenced groove is a departure from the more traditional rock rhythms of their earlier work. The guitars of Neil Halstead and Rachel Goswell are treated with extensive delay and reverb, creating a vast, cavernous soundscape that perfectly lives up to the “space station” in its title. The guitars are less about riffs and more about texture, creating shimmering, ethereal waves of sound that wash over the listener.

Goswell’s vocals are treated as another instrument in the mix, her voice soft and ethereal, her lyrics impressionistic and difficult to decipher. The focus is not on narrative but on mood and atmosphere. The track was a bold and experimental step for the band, incorporating the influence of artists like Aphex Twin and Brian Eno, who contributed to two other tracks on the album. “Souvlaki Space Station” is a masterclass in sonic architecture, a piece of music that creates a complete and immersive world for the listener to get lost in. It is a landmark track in the shoegaze canon, a beautiful and disorienting journey into the outer reaches of sound.

The Flaming Lips – “Approaching Pavonis Mons by Balloon (Utopia Planitia)”

The closing track of The Flaming Lips’ 2002 album Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, this beautifully titled instrumental won a Grammy Award for Best Rock Instrumental Performance. The title itself is a journey, referencing a real location on Mars: Pavonis Mons is a large shield volcano, and Utopia Planitia is the vast plain where it is located. The whimsical image of approaching this grand geological feature by balloon perfectly captures the spirit of the track.

The song is a gentle, melodic, and slightly melancholy piece of music that showcases the band’s unique blend of organic and electronic sounds. It features a simple, memorable melody played on an acoustic guitar, set against a backdrop of warm, bubbling synthesizers, a steady, simple drum machine beat, and the rich, orchestral textures of a Mellotron. The sound is both childlike and sophisticated, evoking a sense of gentle, floating travel and quiet wonder.

Like much of the band’s work, the track is imbued with a sense of bittersweet optimism. It is a moment of calm and reflection at the end of an album that deals with themes of love, mortality, and conflict. Without a single word, “Approaching Pavonis Mons by Balloon” manages to convey a complex range of emotions – awe, nostalgia, a touch of sadness, and a significant sense of peace. It is a testament to The Flaming Lips’ mastery of sonic storytelling, their ability to create rich, cinematic landscapes and evoke deep feelings through pure sound.

A Galaxy of Hits: Other Notable Celestial Tracks

Beyond the foundational epics and thematic cornerstones, the cosmos has inspired a vast and diverse array of individual songs across every imaginable genre. From hard rock anthems about interstellar joyrides to poignant folk tales of relativistic heartbreak, these tracks demonstrate the universal and enduring appeal of space as a source of musical inspiration. Each song offers a unique perspective on our relationship with the stars, contributing its own light to the ever-expanding galaxy of space-themed music.

Deep Purple – “Space Truckin'”

A thunderous, high-energy closer to their classic 1972 album Machine Head, “Space Truckin'” is a joyous and unabashedly fun piece of hard rock. The song’s premise is simple: the band are interstellar rock and rollers, traveling the solar system and playing gigs on different planets. “We had a lot of luck on Venus / We always had a ball on Mars,” Ian Gillan sings, his powerful voice full of swagger. The lyrics are playful and nonsensical, a celebration of the rock and roll lifestyle projected onto a cosmic scale. The song’s iconic, chugging riff was reportedly inspired by guitarist Ritchie Blackmore’s interpretation of the theme music from the ’60s Batmantelevision series. This simple, driving riff, combined with Jon Lord’s distorted Hammond organ and Ian Paice’s powerful drumming, creates a relentless, head-banging groove. In live performances, the song often became a vehicle for extended improvisation, sometimes stretching to over twenty minutes. “Space Truckin'” is a pure, unadulterated blast of cosmic boogie rock.

Queen – “’39”

A remarkable and unique track from Queen’s 1975 masterpiece, A Night at the Opera, “’39” is a science fiction folk song written by the band’s guitarist, Brian May, who would later go on to earn his PhD in astrophysics. The song tells the story of a group of space explorers who embark on a year-long journey. Due to the effects of time dilation, a concept from Einstein’s theory of relativity where time passes slower for an object moving at near the speed of light, when they return to Earth, a hundred years have passed. The lyrics poignantly describe the volunteers’ return to a world where all their loved ones are long gone. “For my love is old and grey / And my daughter’s letters say / That she’s mother of a son that I have never seen,” May sings, his gentle voice conveying a significant sense of loss and dislocation. The song’s upbeat, skiffle-like arrangement, complete with acoustic guitars and a double bass played by John Deacon, creates a fascinating contrast with its melancholy, scientifically grounded narrative.

Electric Light Orchestra – “Ticket to the Moon”

A beautiful and melancholic ballad from ELO’s 1981 science fiction concept album, Time, “Ticket to the Moon” is a perfect showcase for Jeff Lynne’s mastery of orchestral pop. The album tells the story of a man from the 1980s who is transported to the year 2095, and this song captures his deep sense of nostalgia and longing for the past he has lost. The song begins with a delicate piano intro reminiscent of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata,” which gives way to a lush arrangement of sweeping strings, acoustic guitar, and Lynne’s signature multi-tracked harmonies. The lyrics express a desire to escape his futuristic reality and return to a simpler time, with the “ticket to the moon” serving as a metaphor for this impossible journey. “Ticket to the Moon” is a masterful piece of songwriting, a track that blends futuristic themes with a timeless sense of romantic melancholy.

The Police – “Walking on the Moon”

A classic track from The Police’s 1979 album Reggatta de Blanc, “Walking on the Moon” uses the feeling of weightlessness as a metaphor for the euphoria of being in love. The song’s creation was famously mundane: Sting came up with the lyric “walking ’round the room” while drunk in a German hotel room and later changed it to the more evocative “walking on the moon.” The song’s distinctive sound is a perfect example of the band’s unique fusion of rock, punk, and reggae. The bassline is simple and spacious, leaving plenty of room for Andy Summers’ atmospheric, echoing guitar chords. The track’s most innovative element is Stewart Copeland’s drumming. He used a Roland RE-201 Space Echo unit to create a rhythmic, dub-influenced delay on his drum parts, a technique that accentuates the song’s theme of floating and removes the traditional rhythmic gravity. The music video, filmed at the Kennedy Space Center, further cemented the song’s connection to actual space exploration.

Joe Satriani – “Surfing with the Alien”

The explosive title track from Joe Satriani’s 1987 breakthrough album, “Surfing with the Alien” is a landmark of instrumental rock guitar. The song is a showcase of Satriani’s incredible technical virtuosity and his melodic sensibilities. The track is built on a high-energy rock and roll groove, over which Satriani unleashes a torrent of innovative guitar techniques. The main melody is catchy and memorable, but it’s the solo sections that truly define the song. Satriani employs a vast lexicon of techniques, including lightning-fast legato runs, two-handed tapping, and dramatic use of the whammy bar for “dive bombs” and other expressive effects. The title itself, inspired by the Marvel Comics character the Silver Surfer, perfectly captures the song’s feeling of speed, freedom, and otherworldly power. It’s a track that redefined the possibilities of instrumental rock and inspired a generation of guitarists to push the boundaries of their own playing.

Europe – “The Final Countdown”

An inescapable global smash hit from 1986, “The Final Countdown” is a song defined by its triumphant and instantly recognizable keyboard riff. Written by frontman Joey Tempest, the riff was created on a Korg Polysix synthesizer several years before the song was recorded. The track’s bombastic, anthemic sound, complete with a soaring guitar solo from John Norum, made it a staple of sporting events and arenas around the world. The song’s lyrics were inspired by David Bowie’s “Space Oddity,” telling a story of humanity leaving a dying Earth to find a new home in the stars. “We’re leaving together / But still it’s farewell / And maybe we’ll come back / To Earth, who can tell?” Tempest sings, his voice full of a sense of grand, dramatic purpose. While sometimes dismissed as an artifact of ’80s hair metal excess, “The Final Countdown” is a masterfully crafted piece of pop-rock, a song whose epic scale and cosmic theme have given it an enduring, universal appeal.

Styx – “Come Sail Away”

A quintessential power ballad from the progressive rock band Styx, “Come Sail Away” is a song of two distinct halves. Released on their 1977 album The Grand Illusion, the track begins as a gentle, piano-led ballad. Dennis DeYoung’s vocals are soft and reflective as he sings of a group of friends gathering to embark on a journey, a metaphor for chasing one’s dreams. The song gradually builds in intensity, with layers of synthesizers and multi-tracked vocal harmonies, before exploding into a hard rock anthem in its second half. The guitars become heavy and distorted, and the drums become powerful and driving. The song’s narrative also makes a dramatic shift. The “sailing ship” of the first half is revealed to be a “starship,” and the journey is not across the ocean, but into the cosmos, where the travelers are met by “a gathering of angels.” The album version features a long, intricate synthesizer solo that showcases the band’s progressive rock credentials. “Come Sail Away” is an epic and beloved track that perfectly captures the grand, theatrical spirit of ’70s arena rock.

Beastie Boys – “Intergalactic”

A massive hit from their 1998 album Hello Nasty, “Intergalactic” is a brilliant and playful piece of hip-hop science fiction. The track is built on a foundation of a distorted, robotic vocal sample, a heavy, driving beat, and the Beastie Boys’ signature tag-team rhymes. The lyrics are a typically surreal and humorous collage of pop culture references and boasts, all tied together by the cosmic theme of the chorus: “Intergalactic, planetary, planetary, intergalactic.” The song’s most enduring legacy is its iconic music video. Directed by Adam Yauch (under his pseudonym Nathanial Hörnblowér), the video is a loving parody of Japanese kaiju (giant monster) and Super Sentai (superhero team) television shows. The video features the band members, dressed as Japanese construction workers, piloting a giant robot that does battle with a giant, octopus-headed monster in the streets of Tokyo. The video’s lo-fi special effects and comedic tone perfectly captured the song’s fun, creative spirit and helped to make “Intergalactic” a global phenomenon.

Jamiroquai – “Cosmic Girl”

A smooth and stylish slice of acid jazz and disco-funk, “Cosmic Girl” was a standout track from Jamiroquai’s 1996 album, Travelling Without Moving. The song is a celebration of an otherworldly woman who seems to have descended from the stars. Frontman Jay Kay’s soulful vocals glide over a slick, infectious groove created by a funky bassline, shimmering keyboards, and a lush string arrangement. The lyrics are filled with celestial imagery, describing a romance that transcends the bounds of Earth. “I’m scanning the heavens with my telescope,” he sings, “Looking for a sign of life, searching for a cosmic girl.” He describes her as sending him “into hyperspace” and coming from a “cosmic world.” The song’s blend of ’70s disco and funk influences with a futuristic, space-age theme created a sound that was both retro and modern, a perfect encapsulation of Jamiroquai’s unique style. It’s a timeless dance track, a feel-good anthem for a love that is truly out of this world.

Klaatu – “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft”

A lush and ambitious piece of progressive pop, “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft” is the most famous song by the mysterious Canadian band Klaatu. Released in 1976, the song was famously covered a year later by The Carpenters, whose version became a major international hit. The song’s inspiration came from a real-life event called “World Contact Day.” In 1953, an organization called the International Flying Saucer Bureau encouraged its members to attempt to collectively send a telepathic message to aliens at a designated time. The message began with the phrase that became the song’s title. Klaatu’s song is a grand, multi-part suite that imagines this event, complete with sound effects of crickets chirping and an introduction that sounds like a radio broadcast. The lyrics are a sincere and hopeful plea for peace and understanding from the people of Earth to any extraterrestrial visitors who might be listening. The music is ornate and cinematic, with a memorable melody, rich vocal harmonies, and a sweeping orchestral arrangement. It’s a unique and heartfelt piece of music, a testament to the hopeful, utopian spirit that often animated the progressive rock of the 1970s.

Frank Zappa – “Inca Roads”

A masterpiece of musical complexity and lyrical absurdity, “Inca Roads” is a highlight from Frank Zappa’s 1975 album, One Size Fits All. The song is a dizzying fusion of progressive rock, jazz, and classical influences, characterized by its constantly shifting time signatures, intricate instrumental passages, and virtuosic musicianship. The lyrics, sung by George Duke, are a typically Zappa-esque piece of surreal humor. The narrator ponders the origin of the ancient Inca roads, humorously speculating that they might have been built by aliens in UFOs. “Did a booger-bear come from somewhere out there?” he asks, before imagining a conversation with an alien who has landed his “little green Rochester” (a type of carburetor) on the Nazca Lines. The song is famous for its long and complex instrumental sections, including a stunning marimba solo from Ruth Underwood and one of Zappa’s most celebrated and brilliantly structured guitar solos. “Inca Roads” is a perfect example of Zappa’s unique genius, his ability to combine breathtaking musical sophistication with a playful, satirical, and deeply irreverent worldview.

Hawkwind – “Silver Machine”

A raw, driving, and iconic piece of British rock, “Silver Machine” is the quintessential Hawkwind anthem. Released as a single in 1972, the song became a surprise hit, reaching number three on the UK charts and bringing the band’s underground space rock sound to a mainstream audience. The track was recorded live at a benefit concert, which contributes to its raw, chaotic energy. The song’s lead vocal was famously performed by the band’s then-bassist, Lemmy Kilmister, who would later go on to form Motörhead. His rough, powerful voice was a perfect match for the song’s relentless, driving rhythm. The lyrics, written by Robert Calvert, are a “send-up of space travel,” a poetic and abstract ode to a “silver machine” that flies “sideways through time.” The song is built on a simple, powerful, and repetitive riff that creates a hypnotic, trance-like effect. Combined with the swirling, futuristic sounds of the band’s synthesizers, “Silver Machine” is a pure, undiluted blast of cosmic energy, a landmark track that defined the sound and spirit of space rock.

Gong – “Radio Gnome Invisible”

A key track from their 1973 album Flying Teapot, “Radio Gnome Invisible” is an introduction to the wonderfully strange and complex mythology of the psychedelic rock band Gong. The album is the first in the “Radio Gnome Invisible” trilogy, which tells a sprawling, surrealist story involving Pot Head Pixies with propellers on their heads who fly around in teapots, a great beer yogi named Banana Ananda, and messages being beamed from the Planet Gong via a pirate radio station. The mythology, created by the band’s eccentric leader, Daevid Allen, is a playful and deeply psychedelic exploration of consciousness, spirituality, and counter-cultural ideas. The song itself is a piece of whimsical space rock, with a loping, jazzy rhythm, Steve Hillage’s signature “glissando” guitar, and Allen’s gentle, story-telling vocals. The music is fluid and improvisational, with saxophone and flute solos weaving in and out of the mix. “Radio Gnome Invisible” is a perfect entry point into the unique and imaginative world of Gong, a band that used science fiction and fantasy to create a musical universe all their own.

Man or Astro-man? – “Invasion of the Dragonmen”

A high-energy blast of sci-fi-infused surf rock, “Invasion of the Dragonmen” is a perfect example of the unique sound of the Alabama-based band Man or Astro-man?. The band’s entire aesthetic is built around the tropes of 1950s and ’60s science fiction B-movies, from their stage costumes and album art to their song titles and the liberal use of sound clips from old films. “Invasion of the Dragonmen” opens with a whispered, dramatic dialogue sample from a 1974 Spider-Man comic book record set: “Those creatures… they have almost human bodies… and dragon heads… he walks like a man!” This sets the stage for a frantic, instrumental assault of reverb-drenched surf guitar, a driving punk rock beat, and futuristic synthesizer sounds. The music is fast, fun, and full of a geeky, infectious energy. Man or Astro-man? are masters of their niche, a band that has taken the instrumental sound of early ’60s surf rock and updated it with a modern punk sensibility and a deep, abiding love for all things sci-fi.

Iron Maiden – “Satellite 15… The Final Frontier”

The epic opening track from Iron Maiden’s 2010 album, The Final Frontier, this song is a sprawling, multi-part piece that sets the stage for an album filled with themes of exploration, discovery, and the unknown. The track begins with a long, atmospheric, and unsettling introduction titled “Satellite 15.” This section is nearly five minutes long and features distorted, robotic vocals from Bruce Dickinson, strange electronic textures, and a slow, lurching rhythm. It creates a sense of disorientation and tension, like a spaceship lost and adrift in the void. This moody intro then gives way to the second part, “The Final Frontier,” which is a classic Iron Maiden anthem. The tempo kicks up, and the band launches into their signature galloping rhythm, complete with harmonized guitar riffs from Dave Murray, Adrian Smith, and Janick Gers, and Dickinson’s soaring, operatic vocals. The song is a powerful and ambitious album opener, a journey that moves from a dark, experimental soundscape to the triumphant, familiar territory of classic heavy metal.

Coheed and Cambria – “Welcome Home”

A powerful and dramatic piece of progressive metal, “Welcome Home” is a standout track from Coheed and Cambria’s 2005 album, Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star IV, Volume One: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. The song, like all of the band’s work, is part of a larger, overarching science fiction narrative called The Amory Wars, a complex saga created by frontman Claudio Sanchez and told across the band’s albums and a series of comic books. “Welcome Home” is a particularly heavy and aggressive track in the band’s catalog. It opens with a menacing, acoustic guitar riff that builds into a thunderous, full-band assault. The song features heavy, down-tuned guitar riffs, complex drumming, and Sanchez’s distinctive, high-pitched vocals. The lyrics are dark and violent, telling a story of hostility and conflict between two of the central characters in The Amory Wars saga. The song’s epic scope and cinematic feel made it a popular choice for use in video games and movie trailers, and it remains one of the band’s most well-known and powerful songs.

The Church – “Under the Milky Way”

An atmospheric and timeless classic of 1980s alternative rock, “Under the Milky Way” is the signature song of the Australian band The Church. Released in 1988, the song became an international hit, its dreamy, melancholic mood resonating with a wide audience. The track begins with a memorable, haunting 12-string acoustic guitar melody, which is soon joined by a warm, fretless bassline and layers of shimmering, synthesized strings. The song’s most unique and defining feature is a solo played on a bagpipe synthesizer, which gives the track an otherworldly, ethereal quality. Steve Kilbey’s vocals are deep and resonant, his lyrics poetic and enigmatic. He sings of a strange, disorienting experience “under the Milky Way tonight,” a moment of revelation that is “lower than you’ve ever been in your life.” While Kilbey has often claimed that the song is “not about anything” and is meant to be a “blank, abstract canvas” for the listener, its celestial title and dreamy, immersive sound have made it a perennial stargazing anthem, a perfect soundtrack for moments of quiet contemplation and wonder.

M83 – “Outro”

The stunning closing track of M83’s 2011 double album, Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming, “Outro” is a piece of music of epic, cinematic proportions. The song is a masterclass in building and releasing tension, a slow-burning crescendo that builds to a triumphant and emotionally overwhelming climax. The track begins with a simple, atmospheric synthesizer pad, over which Anthony Gonzalez’s vocals enter, his voice full of a grand, declarative power: “I’m the king of my own land.” A powerful, tom-tom-driven drum beat enters, and the song begins its steady, inexorable build. Layers of synthesizers, strings, and a powerful choir are gradually added, creating a massive wall of sound. The song reaches its peak with a beautiful, simple, and poignant piano melody that provides a moment of clarity and release amidst the sonic storm. The track’s epic scale and powerful emotional sweep have made it a popular choice for use in films, television shows, and trailers, where it is often used to underscore moments of great significance, wonder, and finality. It is the perfect, awe-inspiring conclusion to an ambitious album, a piece of music that feels as vast and as full of possibility as the cosmos itself.

Summary

The journey through the cosmos of popular music reveals a universe as diverse and as full of wonder as the one seen through a telescope. From the swinging, optimistic anthems of the Space Race to the synthesized, alien landscapes of electronic pioneers, artists have consistently turned to the stars to tell their stories. This exploration has charted a remarkable evolution, mirroring humanity’s own changing perspectives. The initial, literal celebrations of exploration gave way to the archetype of the lonely astronaut, a powerful symbol of modern isolation whose story was told and retold across decades. The vast, unknown territory of outer space became the perfect metaphor for the psychedelic explorations of the inner mind, a journey enabled by a parallel revolution in musical technology.

For Afrofuturist visionaries, the cosmos was a mythological realm of liberation, a place to build a new future free from the injustices of the past. As technology advanced, musicians began to not just describe space, but to construct it from pure electronic sound, creating immersive worlds for listeners to inhabit. This rich legacy continues to be inherited and reinterpreted by modern artists, who use the timeless language of the stars to explore contemporary themes of alienation, love, and the search for meaning. As long as humanity continues to look up at the night sky with a sense of awe and curiosity, musicians will be there to create the soundtrack for that eternal and inspiring journey.

HTML<table> <caption>The Cosmic 50: A Chronological Guide</caption> <thead> <tr> <th>#</th> <th>Artist</th> <th>Song Title</th> <th>Album</th> <th>Year</th> </tr> </thead> <tbody> <tr> <td>1</td> <td>Frank Sinatra</td> <td>Fly Me to the Moon</td> <td>It Might as Well Be Swing</td> <td>1964</td> </tr> <tr> <td>2</td> <td>The Tornados</td> <td>Telstar</td> <td>The Original Telstar: The Sounds of the Tornadoes</td> <td>1962</td> </tr> <tr> <td>3</td> <td>The Byrds</td> <td>Mr. Spaceman</td> <td>Fifth Dimension</td> <td>1966</td> </tr> <tr> <td>4</td> <td>The Jimi Hendrix Experience</td> <td>Third Stone from the Sun</td> <td>Are You Experienced</td> <td>1967</td> </tr> <tr> <td>5</td> <td>David Bowie</td> <td>Space Oddity</td> <td>David Bowie (Space Oddity)</td> <td>1969</td> </tr> <tr> <td>6</td> <td>Elton John</td> <td>Rocket Man</td> <td>Honky Château</td> <td>1972</td> </tr> <tr> <td>7</td> <td>The Killers</td> <td>Spaceman</td> <td>Day & Age</td> <td>2008</td> </tr> <tr> <td>8</td> <td>Peter Schilling</td> <td>Major Tom (Coming Home)</td> <td>Error in the System</td> <td>1983</td> </tr> <tr> <td>9</td> <td>Harry Nilsson</td> <td>Spaceman</td> <td>Son of Schmilsson</td> <td>1972</td> </tr> <tr> <td>10</td> <td>Pink Floyd</td> <td>Astronomy Domine</td> <td>The Piper at the Gates of Dawn</td> <td>1967</td> </tr> <tr> <td>11</td> <td>Pink Floyd</td> <td>Interstellar Overdrive</td> <td>The Piper at the Gates of Dawn</td> <td>1967</td> </tr> <tr> <td>12</td> <td>The Rolling Stones</td> <td>2000 Light Years from Home</td> <td>Their Satanic Majesties Request</td> <td>1967</td> </tr> <tr> <td>13</td> <td>David Bowie</td> <td>Starman</td> <td>The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars</td> <td>1972</td> </tr> <tr> <td>14</td> <td>David Bowie</td> <td>Life on Mars?</td> <td>Hunky Dory</td> <td>1971</td> </tr> <tr> <td>15</td> <td>Black Sabbath</td> <td>Planet Caravan</td> <td>Paranoid</td> <td>1970</td> </tr> <tr> <td>16</td> <td>Rush</td> <td>Cygnus X-1</td> <td>A Farewell to Kings / Hemispheres</td> <td>1977</td> </tr> <tr> <td>17</td> <td>Sun Ra</td> <td>Space Is the Place</td> <td>Space Is the Place</td> <td>1973</td> </tr> <tr> <td>18</td> <td>Parliament</td> <td>Mothership Connection (Star Child)</td> <td>Mothership Connection</td> <td>1975</td> </tr> <tr> <td>19</td> <td>Kraftwerk</td> <td>Spacelab</td> <td>The Man-Machine</td> <td>1978</td> </tr> <tr> <td>20</td> <td>Jean-Michel Jarre</td> <td>Oxygène (Part IV)</td> <td>Oxygène</td> <td>1976</td> </tr> <tr> <td>21</td> <td>Vangelis</td> <td>Blade Runner Blues</td> <td>Blade Runner</td> <td>1994</td> </tr> <tr> <td>22</td> <td>Daft Punk</td> <td>Contact</td> <td>Random Access Memories</td> <td>2013</td> </tr> <tr> <td>23</td> <td>Air</td> <td>La Femme d'Argent</td> <td>Moon Safari</td> <td>1998</td> </tr> <tr> <td>24</td> <td>Tangerine Dream</td> <td>Phaedra</td> <td>Phaedra</td> <td>1974</td> </tr> <tr> <td>25</td> <td>Radiohead</td> <td>Subterranean Homesick Alien</td> <td>OK Computer</td> <td>1997</td> </tr> <tr> <td>26</td> <td>Spiritualized</td> <td>Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space</td> <td>Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space</td> <td>1997</td> </tr> <tr> <td>27</td> <td>Muse</td> <td>Starlight</td> <td>Black Holes and Revelations</td> <td>2006</td> </tr> <tr> <td>28</td> <td>Muse</td> <td>Supermassive Black Hole</td> <td>Black Holes and Revelations</td> <td>2006</td> </tr> <tr> <td>29</td> <td>Failure</td> <td>Another Space Song</td> <td>Fantastic Planet</td> <td>1996</td> </tr> <tr> <td>30</td> <td>Hum</td> <td>Stars</td> <td>You'd Prefer an Astronaut</td> <td>1995</td> </tr> <tr> <td>31</td> <td>Slowdive</td> <td>Souvlaki Space Station</td> <td>Souvlaki</td> <td>1993</td> </tr> <tr> <td>32</td> <td>The Flaming Lips</td> <td>Approaching Pavonis Mons by Balloon (Utopia Planitia)</td> <td>Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots</td> <td>2002</td> </tr> <tr> <td>33</td> <td>Deep Purple</td> <td>Space Truckin'</td> <td>Machine Head</td> <td>1972</td> </tr> <tr> <td>34</td> <td>Queen</td> <td>'39</td> <td>A Night at the Opera</td> <td>1975</td> </tr> <tr> <td>35</td> <td>Electric Light Orchestra</td> <td>Ticket to the Moon</td> <td>Time</td> <td>1981</td> </tr> <tr> <td>36</td> <td>The Police</td> <td>Walking on the Moon</td> <td>Reggatta de Blanc</td> <td>1979</td> </tr> <tr> <td>37</td> <td>Joe Satriani</td> <td>Surfing with the Alien</td> <td>Surfing with the Alien</td> <td>1987</td> </tr> <tr> <td>38</td> <td>Europe</td> <td>The Final Countdown</td> <td>The Final Countdown</td> <td>1986</td> </tr> <tr> <td>39</td> <td>Styx</td> <td>Come Sail Away</td> <td>The Grand Illusion</td> <td>1977</td> </tr> <tr> <td>40</td> <td>Beastie Boys</td> <td>Intergalactic</td> <td>Hello Nasty</td> <td>1998</td> </tr> <tr> <td>41</td> <td>Jamiroquai</td> <td>Cosmic Girl</td> <td>Travelling Without Moving</td> <td>1996</td> </tr> <tr> <td>42</td> <td>Klaatu</td> <td>Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft</td> <td>3:47 EST</td> <td>1976</td> </tr> <tr> <td>43</td> <td>Frank Zappa</td> <td>Inca Roads</td> <td>One Size Fits All</td> <td>1975</td> </tr> <tr> <td>44</td> <td>Hawkwind</td> <td>Silver Machine</td> <td>(Single)</td> <td>1972</td> </tr> <tr> <td>45</td> <td>Gong</td> <td>Radio Gnome Invisible</td> <td>Flying Teapot</td> <td>1973</td> </tr> <tr> <td>46</td> <td>Man or Astro-man?</td> <td>Invasion of the Dragonmen</td> <td>Destroy All Astro-Men!!</td> <td>1994</td> </tr> <tr> <td>47</td> <td>Iron Maiden</td> <td>Satellite 15... The Final Frontier</td> <td>The Final Frontier</td> <td>2010</td> </tr> <tr> <td>48</td> <td>Coheed and Cambria</td> <td>Welcome Home</td> <td>Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV, Volume One: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness</td> <td>2005</td> </tr> <tr> <td>49</td> <td>The Church</td> <td>Under the Milky Way</td> <td>Starfish</td> <td>1988</td> </tr> <tr> <td>50</td> <td>M83</td> <td>Outro</td> <td>Hurry Up, We're Dreaming</td> <td>2011</td> </tr> </tbody> </table>