He walked onto the stage in a tuxedo, cigarette in hand, looking like he’d just stepped out of a high-stakes poker game in a smoke-filled 1970s lounge. It was 1978. The occasion was the Science Fiction Film Awards. What followed was about four minutes of television history that people still can’t quite wrap their heads around. We are, of course, talking about the William Shatner Rocket Man performance.
It’s weird. It’s campy. Honestly, it’s a bit uncomfortable if you aren't prepared for it.
Shatner didn’t just sing the song. He didn't really sing it at all. He acted it—three times over, actually—using a split-screen effect that was high-tech for the Jimmy Carter era but looks like a fever dream today. He gave us "The Lyricist," "The Performer," and "The Guy Who Just Wants to Go Home." One version was breathy. One was intense. One was just... Shatner.
If you grew up with Star Trek, seeing Captain James T. Kirk do a spoken-word rendition of an Elton John classic was a massive tonal shift. For decades, this clip lived in the shadows of "bad TV" compilations and late-night punchlines. But lately, people have started to ask a different question: Was he actually being a genius?
Why the William Shatner Rocket Man Cover Became a Cultural Artifact
The 1970s were a lawless time for variety television. Producers would throw anything at the wall to see if it stuck. When Bernie Taupin, Elton John’s legendary lyricist, stood on that stage to introduce Shatner, nobody expected a dramatic interpretation of a song about an astronaut’s existential dread.
The William Shatner Rocket Man moment happened because Shatner is, at his core, a Shakespearean-trained actor. He treats words like they have physical weight. When he says "And I'm gonna be high... as a kite... by then," he isn't just hitting notes. He’s pausing for dramatic effect. He’s trying to convey the loneliness of space travel. He’s leaning into the "acting" part of "act-ing."
📖 Related: King Gizzard Album Covers: Why Jason Galea is the Band’s Secret Member
Bernie Taupin supposedly loved it, or at least he found it fascinatingly different. Elton John’s original version is a melodic, soaring pop masterpiece about a man who views space travel as a mundane 9-to-5 job. Shatner took that concept and turned it into a psychological profile.
People laughed. They still do. But if you watch it closely, Shatner isn't "in" on the joke. He's dead serious. That’s why it works. If he had winked at the camera, the magic would be gone. Because he committed to the bit with 100% of his soul, it became legendary. It’s the definition of "so bad it's good," except some critics now argue it’s just plain "good" performance art.
The Science of the "Shatner Pause"
We have to talk about the cadence. You know the one. The "Shatner Pause" is practically a registered trademark at this point.
In the William Shatner Rocket Man performance, this technique is dialed up to eleven. Most singers follow the rhythm of the drums or the piano. Shatner ignores the music entirely. He treats the backing track like a suggestion rather than a rule. He waits. He considers. He delivers.
- He emphasizes the "Rocket" like it’s a dirty word.
- He drags out the "Man" until you’re not sure if he’s going to finish the sentence.
- He puffs on that cigarette like he’s trying to solve the mysteries of the universe in real-time.
There is a technical term for what he’s doing: Sprechstimme. It’s a vocal technique that falls somewhere between speaking and singing. It’s been used in opera and avant-garde music for a century. Whether Shatner knew he was doing Sprechstimme or just forgot the melody doesn’t really matter. The result is a piece of media that feels alien. It feels like something that shouldn't exist, yet there it is, immortalized on YouTube for every generation to discover.
Legacy and the Blue Origin Connection
Fast forward several decades. In 2021, the William Shatner Rocket Man legacy came full circle. Shatner actually went to space. At age 90, he boarded Jeff Bezos’s Blue Origin NS-18 and became the oldest person to ever cross the Karman line.
When he came back down, he was visibly shaken. He wasn't the "Rocket Man" of 1978 anymore. He wasn't the swaggering Captain Kirk. He was a man who had seen the "thin blue line" of Earth’s atmosphere and felt a profound sense of grief for the planet.
📖 Related: Dream Dream Dream Sharkboy Lyrics: Why This Weird Lullaby Never Left Our Heads
He wrote about this later, describing the "Overview Effect." It’s a cognitive shift that astronauts experience when seeing Earth from orbit. It makes our earthly conflicts look small and our environment look incredibly fragile.
Suddenly, the 1978 performance didn't seem so funny anymore. Or, at least, it gained a layer of irony. The man who spent his life pretending to be in space—and who famously butchered a song about the loneliness of being an astronaut—finally found out what it actually felt like.
It’s a weirdly poetic ending to the story. Shatner spent years being teased for that performance. Stewie Griffin parodied it on Family Guy. It was the go-to reference for "celebrity vanity projects." But in the end, Shatner got the last laugh by actually becoming the guy in the song.
How to Appreciate the Weirdness
If you're going to watch the William Shatner Rocket Man clip today, you have to look past the velvet tuxedo.
Don't compare it to Elton John. That’s a losing game. Elton’s version is about the music; Shatner’s version is about the monologue. Think of it as a short play. It’s a character study of a man who is terrified of his own job.
Interestingly, this wasn't his only foray into the "sing-speaking" world. His 1968 album The Transformed Man is full of this stuff. He does "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." If you think "Rocket Man" is wild, wait until you hear him tackle Bob Dylan.
🔗 Read more: You're Killing Me: What Most People Get Wrong About the New Brooke Shields TV Show
There’s a certain bravery in what he did. Most celebrities are terrified of looking foolish. They have publicists and managers who tell them "no." Shatner doesn't seem to have a "no" button when it comes to creative expression. He leans into the camp. He embraces the eccentricity. In a world of polished, autotuned, PR-managed pop stars, there is something deeply refreshing about a guy who just goes out there and does... whatever that was.
Moving Beyond the Meme
To really understand the cultural footprint here, you have to look at how it paved the way for other actors to get "weird" with music. Without Shatner, would we have Leonard Nimoy’s "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins"? Probably not. Shatner opened the door for the "Celebrity Interpretation" genre.
It’s also worth noting that Shatner’s musical career actually got "legitimate" later on. His 2004 album Has Been, produced by Ben Folds, received genuine critical acclaim. He used the same spoken-word style, but this time, it was backed by sophisticated arrangements and poignant lyrics. He proved that his style could work if given the right context.
But "Rocket Man" remains the gold standard. It’s the one we talk about at parties. It’s the one that gets shared every time he does an interview. It is a moment of pure, unadulterated 70s weirdness that managed to survive the turn of the millennium.
What You Can Learn From the Rocket Man Moment
There are actually some weirdly practical takeaways from this whole saga.
- Commitment is everything. If you’re going to do something weird, do it with your whole heart. Half-hearted weirdness is just awkward. Full-hearted weirdness is legendary.
- Context changes over time. What was a joke in 1985 is a "classic" in 2025. Don't worry too much about the immediate reaction to your creative work.
- Own your brand. Shatner has spent the last forty years leaning into his reputation. He doesn't get offended when people bring up the "Rocket Man" clip. He laughs along, because he knows it’s part of what makes him an icon.
- Explore the "why" behind the "what." The next time you see a viral clip of something "cringe," try to figure out what the person was actually trying to achieve. You might find a layer of depth you missed.
Next time you’re feeling a bit lonely or out of place, put on the William Shatner Rocket Man video. It won't necessarily make you feel better, but it will definitely remind you that being "odd" is a valid way to exist in the world.
If you want to dive deeper into this specific era of pop culture, your next move is to track down the full 1978 Science Fiction Film Awards broadcast. It’s a goldmine of bizarre celebrity appearances and vintage special effects that explains exactly why the 70s were the peak of experimental television. You can also listen to the Ben Folds-produced Has Been album to see how Shatner eventually perfected the "sing-speak" craft he debuted so chaotically on that awards stage.