MARC BOLAN and T. REX: Manchild of The Glamrock Revolution

Text by Nancy Neon Foster / FFanzeen, 2020

Images from the Internet

As I unwrapped the gift, the album cover radiated a golden glow. The photograph was of a figure playing guitar in front of a gigantic amplifier. The guitar player was surrounded by an electric halo. There was something reverent, even religious about the image. Now, I would call the cover of T. Rex’s Electric Warrior iconic. The cover was designed by British art group Hipnosis, based on a photograph by Kieron “Spud” Murphy.

The mystique of this album cover art and the poetic rock’n’roll seduction within changed me and my life forever. I had recently turned 14, but I was still a sheltered child until T. Rex thrust teenhood upon me for the very first time. T. Rex brought color, sparkle, fun, and glamor. Before Marc Bolan burst out, fully formed majestically from his own brow, rock’n’roll meant Elvis Presley and the Beatles, seemingly safe-as-milk music that your mother and grandmother could love. T. Rex was the private territory and personal property of teenagers.

There were no Glamrock boutiques in Greensboro, North Carolina, in 1971, so, I had to use my imagination and creativity to remake myself from a little antisocial nerd-bird to the first glitter girl on my block. I pincurled my hair, wore rhinestone earrings and necklaces borrowed from mommy’s jewelry box, put together strange ensembles from vintage finds, and changed from a Coco Baroque or Too Too Bamboo-lipped mod doll to candy apple-lipped glamrock vixen. At concerts, grown ups called me “acid queen,” although I had barely kissed a boy (a birthday kiss!!!) and I had not touched any drug! When a sweet, innocent former Girl Scout hears T. Rex, there is no turning back.

“Bang A Gong” hit the US airwaves in July 1971, and that was T. Rex’s only Top Ten hit in the US. It sounded like sex, even if I didn’t know exactly what sex was. Those "dirty and sweet” power chords and the explosion of the percussion’s primal boom shot through my head, my heart, and my body.

“Bang A Gong” was often referenced by many bands over the decades, most notably on the first Oasis single, ”Cigarettes and Alcohol.” The single sounded like Johnny Rotten fronting T. Rex, a perfect amalgam for me in the Britpop ‘90s. This proved how much staying power T. Rex had, and when you hear the song today it still sounds fresh and exciting.

Some of my other long-time favorites like Paul Weller of the Jam and Bobby Gillespie of Primal Scream count Electric Warrior as among the greatest. Weller said it is “one of my all-time favorites. The guitar playing is really unique – you know the sound instantly.” Gillespie said “’Bang-A-Gong’ is one of my all-time favorite pop songs. When I was growing up, singles were an art statement. T. Rex was changing all the time. As a fan, you wanted to know what they wore and whether you could follow them to that new place.”

With Electric Warrior, I was hooked. So, I started delving into the past for Bolan treasures and searched for the key to the alchemy that helped create the beautiful and perfect man-child with celestial curls, with his Les Paul as an integral appendage; the fact that Bolan compared his love interest to a car was no small part of the attraction. Bolan conjured lyrics that were equal parts cosmic poetry and rock’n’roll heart.

Marc Bolan’s roots included joining a psych rock group that dressed all in white called John’s Children, with an album and several singles, including “Desdemona.” Next came the folk rock psychedelia of Tyrannosaurus Rex that recorded four albums between 1968-1970. Bolan was on acoustic guitar with first Steve Peregrin Took and then Mickey Finn on percussion The band’s first single, ”Debora,” was released in 1968, and was included on their first album,  My People Were Fair and Had Sky in Their Hair But Now They’re Content to Wear Stars on Their Brow, was released in June 1968. Bolan’s warble was so exotic that the producer, Tony Visconti, thought Bolan was singing in a foreign language. T. Rex, released in December 1970, was the first album under the T. Rex name and bridged the gap between the folk rock psychedelia of Tyrannosaurus Rex and the power chord orgy and hysteria-inducing T. Rex.

Although this was six years after Dylan was booed by folk purists for going electric, Bolan experienced his own “Judas” moment when long-time supporter and personal friend John Peel dismissed the electric phase of his musical career as being a “sell out.” Like his hero Dylan, I doubt Bolan ever did anything to sell out. Bolan, from the earliest age, wanted to be a teen idol. Whatever Bolan did, he did it on his own terms and to fulfill his vision of his ideal self. Bolan, who was always assured of his impending superstardom, was an iconoclast who sought to please himself and his fans. In July 1972, The Slider was released. By this point, it was clear that Bolan was trying to concoct some magical, alchemical sound and spectacle for fans who knew about Presley, the Beatles, and Hendrix but were too young to experience them live. The rock’n’roll cocktail Bolan served up with splashes of Presley, Chuck Berry, Eddie Cochran, Beatles, the Who, and Hendrix, shaken not stirred for the coolest, most iconic superstar potion, like the visitor from Lord of the Rings reimagined as a Dylan coiffed vampire troubadour who rocked a Les Paul, not a lute. Such perfect pop, but so deliciously strange like a sweet drink with a bitter, yet addictive after-taste.

Was this really 48 years ago?! Bolan’s songs retain power and relevance, and have even more resonance for me today despite their being close to half a century old. Right now, we have the bad orange man failing to lead during a worldwide pandemic and we need songs like “Metal Guru.” It is comforting to me, imagining a futuristic extraterrestrial with corkscrew hair serenading me, freeing my body like Presley, and freeing my mind like Dylan. “Mystic Lady” seduces. “Buick Mackane” takes you by force. “The Slider,” ”Baby Boomerang,” ”Spaceball Ricochet,” “Telegram Sam” and “Baby Strange,” and the rest, are all a part of me on a cellular level. Every nuance of every song is in my DNA.

Tanx was released in January 1973, and was described as “interstellar soul,” which I believe influenced David Bowie’s Young Americans. Some wonder if there ever would have been a Ziggy Stardust had there been no T. Rex. I feel Bowie – as well as Prince – owe debts to Bolan musically, fashion- and image-wise. “Born to Boogie” and “Life Is Strange” stand out on the 1994 CD version of Tanx, along with other greats like “Children of The Revolution,” ‘Solid Gold East Action,” and “20th Century Boy.”

Zinc Alloy and the Hidden Riders of Tomorrow released in February 1994 was celebrated by neither fans nor the critics. “Teenage Dream,” which reached #14 was Bolan’s last hit until “New York City” in 1975.

Light of Love was a US-only album in 1974, with 3 tracks from Zinc Alloy, with eight songs recorded at Music Recorders in Hollywood that would end up on Bolan’s Zip Gun, released in February 1975. Ken Barnes wrote in a Rolling Stone review, ”Bolan’s vocals still retain the amphetamine amphibian warble, but at times his snarl is tough enough to rival the Seeds, a considerable achievement.”

Zip Gun was Bolan’s tenth album. Bolan continued in an R&B-influenced vein, joined by Gloria Jones of “Tainted Love” fame. Futuristic Dragon brought a return to form in January 1976. “New York City” is a blast and ushered in the moment where Bolan reinvented himself as the “godfather of punk.” This phase saw him promoting punk era bands like the Jam, Generation X, Eddie and the Hot Rods, and  the Boomtown Rats on his television show, “Marc.” Moreover, Bolan booked a sellout show in London with the Damned.

Dandy in the Underworld, the eleventh album, was a swan song of sorts, about six months before Bolan left this mortal coil due to an auto accident just short of his 30th birthday. Great title, great photo, great songs-helping fans keep a little Marc in their hearts. Sadly, I never saw Marc Bolan live, but I asked a friend, Binky Philips of the Planets what it was like to experience the splendor of T. Rex in the flesh. Binky said, “I saw T. Rex at Carnegie Hall on February 27, 1972. I was crazy about their singles they had put out and I was intrigued by how Marc Bolan was a one-man Beatlemania in the UK. I’d been an Anglophile since February 9, 1964. So, I was well-versed on all things Brit. The Carnegie Hall show might have been the most exciting first ten minutes of any gig I have ever seen. The band hit the stage with every stage light blazing. Marc was wearing a satin jacket over a white t-shirt that had his own face covering his entire torso. I was just dazzled by that over-the-top ego trip. They launched into my own top five favorite T. Rex song, ”Cadilac”(no typo), a track relegated to a B-side and not on any album. I thought that was fantastically ballsy. The whole audience felt like it was on the verge of screaming like 13-year-old girls, the opening was so strong that Marc and Mickey and Steve and Bill just could not sustain the excitement. But T. Rex made a delicious ungodly noise that I can still hear in my mind’s ear.”

The delicious ungodly noise is what got T. Rex inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year. I voted for the band and was excited more than any induction before. The event was supposed to be held May 5, but because of the pandemic, the festivities were rescheduled for November 7, 2020. Congratulations to drummer Bill Legend, the only living member of T. Rex. Congrats to Bolan’s son, Rolan, and his mother, Gloria Jones, and all the band’s family, friends, and admirers. Congratulations and thanks to Mark Feld Bolan, who is still the prettiest star.

I believe Bolan is grinning down from his “armor plated chair” (throne?) on the astral plane and there is an angel polishing his “hub cab diamond star halo.”