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.”

Book Review: Shell Shocked, by Howard Kaylan with Jeff Tamarkin

 Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2013
Images from the Internet
 

Shell Shocked: My life with the Turtles, Flo & Eddie, and Frank Zappa, etc…
By Howard Kaylan, with Jeff Tamarkin
Backbeat Books (Milwaukee)
An imprint of Hal Leonard
277 pages; $24.99: 2013
ISBN: 978-1-61780-846-3
www.backbeatbooks.com

When little Howie Kaplan grew up, sorta, he was known by many names; but we know him as Eddie, and especially by Howard Kaylan. If you sprouted listening to ‘60s radio, you knew his chubby face, facial hair, and principally his voice.

Sure, he has backed up some of the biggest music stars of the ‘70s, such as Zappa, Springsteen (do you really need a given names?), Marc Bolan, Alice Cooper, and even the Ramones.

While the even more physically memorably hirsute and chunky Mark Volman (aka Phlorescent Leech, or Flo, for short) has been his partner for umpteen years, it’s Kaylan you think of when you hear the pride and joy of “Elenore,” “Happy Together,” “You Showed Me,” “She’d Rather Be With Me,” et-cet-trah.

Starting life as a nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn, then upstate New York, and finally transplanted in his formative years to sunny SoCal, his life changed – as with so many others of his generation – with the introduction of rock and roll, the Beatles, and then Bobby Dylan (also a man of many names).

Fame came early for Kaylan and Volman, and with quick success and youth, along with the period in history that was exploding around them, also arose what Ian Dury would famously coin, Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll.

I have read a number of autobios of musicians, such as Cheetah Chrome (Dead Boys), Slash (Guns n’ Roses / Velvet Revolver) and Andy McCoy (Hanoi Rocks), and there is a similar trajectory with a difference in that while they were poor and fighting to get off the mean streets, Kaylan grew up middle class and had a relatively decent childhood. And yet they have all had ups and downs in their career, making and losing tons of cash, the involvement of drugs, wild stories on the road, and multiple partners and wives. However, as far as the descriptors go, the bigger distinction is that Kaylan approaches the whole meshugas with a wicked sense of humor, usually pointed at his own faults and failings. For example, from page 76:

So, not to brag or compare myself to an NBA player, but it was astounding to me, as a not-so-attractive teenager, how many women I was able to “be with” – and this continued into the ‘80s: lined up in the hallways, crossing paths in the lobby preceding the shift change… [sic] Of course, with each lady came baggage. I heard more stories about parents and brothers and unfaithful boyfriends and school than I care to recall. In fact, fortunately, I recall none of them. A switch in my brain could accept a certain amount of palaver without even taking it in. Click. Ah! That’s better. Now I don’t hear a word you’re saying. Oh, is that your bra?

Every bio has its own quirk. For example, Slash repeats the line “all things considered” into the ground. For Kaylan, it’s more like a cliffhanger with the verbal tic lines of, to paraphrase, “I should have known what would happen next…” Note that is my observation, not a complaint. It comes across as the reader is on the ascension of a roller coaster, and you’re about to hit the peak of the upward climb leading to, wheeeee.

My one bone to pick is that as well as the good times, I also wanted to learn about the lean. He mentions that he had to go on unemployment a few times, but never really dives into the depth of what that entailed or was like for him. It was more like a sigh of “oy” than getting the feeling of any kind of depth on the topic. The only despair he does invite the reader into with some feeling is the death of some loved ones, such as Marc Bolan.

Naturally, there is a lot in the book of the Turtles period, of Zappa, on tour with Alice Cooper (I saw Flo and Eddie open for Cooper’s Billion Dollar Babies tour at Madison Square Garden on June 23, 1973), but short shrift about the period after, during the mid-1980s until present, other than a few mentions of going into the studio with various musicians as back-up, like the abovementioned Ramones. I laughed when he describes working with Boston’s garage legends DMZ and Jeff “Monoman” Conolly (I saw Conolly’s the Lyres a few times, but never DMZ), whose music he describes as “punk”; I’m not sure, however, if Kaylan knows the difference between ‘60s-style punk and punk rock, but I digress…

Kaylan has the pleasure of knowing, meeting or seeing the performance of some of the most important rock legends of his day, from Hendrix to Joplin, and bedding a bevy of beautiful women, such as Miss Pamela (DesBarres). While he doesn’t shy away from indiscretions, such as his own, Volman’s or those of the late Zappa (d. 1993; I wonder what Gail Zappa thinks of this book), he discusses rather than describes in detail (a point I applaude).

Even with all the trials and tribulations of Kaylan’s life, much like his music this is a feel-good book, such as he describes the sound of the Turtles, a style they adapted, changing from folk rock after they heard the Lovin’ Spoonful. It’s more of an enjoyable beach read than, say, something academic or meant to give a deep message, like Jim Carroll’s (d. 2009) overrated The Basketball Diaries (1978). If you are at all familiar with the sound of the Turtles, that will give you an indication of the zeitgeist of the book, if you extrapolate a tad.

Unsurprisingly, Penn Gillette’s forward is wicked funny and caustic, and yet gives the impression of fandom and loyalty to a band and man he never expected to like, yet learned there’s more to the music than appears at first listen.

This book is based on Kaylan’s extensive journals that he kept throughout his career. To help him edit his writing, Kaylan wisely chose music historian and writer Jeff Tamarkin, who famously wrote Got a Revolution! The Turbulent Flight of the Jefferson Airplane in 2003. His vast knowledge of the music scene on the West Coast during the 1960s and ‘70s certainly helped. I’m hoping he can perhaps persuade Kaylan to write a more detailed expose of his life in the last half, as this is so focused on the first.

Bonus videos:

DVD Review: David Bowie Under Review – The Calm Before the Storm: 1969-1971

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2013
Images from the Internet

David Bowie Under Review – The Calm Before the Storm: 1969-1971
Executive Producer Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual
65 minutes, 2012
Chromedreams.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

David Bowie has always been an enigma to me, quite frankly. Sure, I understood what he was doing, and how he latched on to what he wanted – even if it originated with someone else – and made it his own. While I respect that, he has always felt pretty contrived to be, especially from his theatrical Ziggy period onward.

And yet, I have always found his story interesting, and have followed his career somewhat over the years. Now at age 66 with a new recording about to come out, here is a British documentary in the Chrome Dream collection that starts at the very beginning of his rise to superstardom.

Of course, the problem with this DVD is that Bowie’s career has been so carefully documented in every possible medium, there really isn’t too much here that’s pretty common knowledge to a true fan. But as someone who is unaware of the pre-Ziggy career, this is a treasure trove, especially all the interviews which are new, and the clips, many of which are rare.

Bowie (often pronounced as Bow-wee on this) started his public career apparently not as a musician, but as an activist for a bogus group he started for the protection of men with longer hair, back in 1964. This managed to get him his first televised experience, a clip of which is shown.

We follow him through his less-successful folkish-mawkish period, influenced by the likes of Anthony Newley (1999), when he was supposedly inspired by Bob Dylan (I don’t see the root). But as journalist Chris Roberts states in an included interview clip, “He’s always had a good ear for musicians and a good eye for collaborators. He always surrounded himself with useful people.” A special talent indeed, and I mean that with no hint of sarcasm.

After the release of his self-titled album, which bombed when first released, he came up with his break-out song, “Space Oddity,” a true rock gem. Then with the help of the likes of collaborators like guitarist Mick Ronson (d. 1993) he began to evolve through the likes of the LPs The Man Who Sold the World (1970) and Honky Dory (1971), and he became more flamboyant.

The tone started changing when Bowie opened for Tyrannosaurus Rex, and started adopting more of Marc Bolan’s proto-Glam style. Friendship turned into jealousy as Bowie’s career began to eclipse Bolan’s, though they stayed friendlimies for the rest of the latter’s short life (d. 1977). The birth of Ziggy Stardust’s androgyny started to click in Britain. Apparently, star-maker and producer John Peel (who is shown here in a 2004 interview, shortly before his death that same year) never really forgave Bowie for his alleged treatment of Bolan, and states so explicitly.

And where did that fashion style originate? Mostly from a of a cast of New York-based performers that showed up to act in a gender-ambiguously play called Pork, namely Cherry Vanilla (the woman who single-handedly helped introduce and break Bowie to the American audiences), the lovely Wayne (now Jayne) County, and publicity maven / photographer Leee Black Childers. Personally, I think these three should have been interviewed on this film because David Bowie may never have become David Bowie if it weren’t for this amazing trio (testify, Jimi L!). Luckily, they are at least given credit by one of the journalists who are part of the commentary.

That kind of style “borrowing” and eclipsing would not historically end there with Bowie. One needs just look at Boy George’s appropriation of bands like Hayzee Fantayzee. But I digress…

The other half of from what was Ziggy Stardust formed was the Andy Warhol Factory group, where Bowie is stated here as essentially saying that he wanted ‘“the mind of Lou Reed and the body of Iggy Pop. Ziggy Stardust was Bowie’s attempt to be that." Leee Childer’s once told one of FFanzeen’s writers in the 1980s that Bowie’s genius is knowing what to steal, and when. Very subtly, this DVD agrees.

There is a gaggle of journalists interviewed here mostly stating opinions, such as David Stubbs, Andrew Mueller, and Paolo Hewitt. As always, what fascinates me more are the people who are more intimately involved, like collaborators from the early years like Keith Christmas and Bob Solly. Shame they couldn’t get Angie Bowie, she certainly would have joyously livened up the volume on the DVD.

As always, there’s lots and lots of rare clips, both video and sound, from the entire period under discussion, including interviews with Bowie, of some of his influences (like Bolan and Donovan), and even a snippet of a telly advertisement in which he participated before his rise. Of course, all of these clips are short and incomplete; otherwise this would be five hours long.

In Chrome Dream fashion, this is a well-released and solidly-put together. It also feels a bit more even than some of the earlier histories, in that some interviewed are actually critical of the man at the center, rather than merely full of hyperbole (though some of that is here, too).

Now that I have finished this enjoyable history, I’m going to watch an alternative version with Velvet Goldmine.

DVD Review: The Sacred Triangle: Bowie, Iggy & Lou, 1971-1973

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

The Sacred Triangle: Bowie, Iggy & Lou, 1971-1973
Directed by Alec Lindsell
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual, 2010
107 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedreams.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

Let’s get right down to it:

This is a British documentary, so you know which one of the three is getting the main focus. Okay, picture two pyramids next to each other. The one on the left is Lou Reed and the one on the right is Iggy. Balancing between them is a line connecting the two (that is Marc Bolan, mentioned often but not in detail). And finally there is the third pyramid of the “sacred” triangle, David Bowie, on top of it all. That is the vision presented here. Okay, I’m done. Naw, not really, as this is still an interesting – albeit somewhat skewed – vision of the three.

Let me quickly add here that I am totally impressed by the choice of interviews that have been selected for this doc, which is so much better than the Pearl Jam one in this series. But more on the talking heads later.

There’s no doubt that Bowie was influenced by Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground, but that’s nothing new. Just listen to David Jones’ singing style around the Ziggy Stardust period, and it’s easy to see the progression from his earlier works. Personally, I’d rather listen to Reed’s take, but that’s just me, walkin’ on the wild side on a Sunday morning when comes the dawning.

There’s plenty of clips here of the Velvets; well, as much as there really is, which is limited, and taken by the Warhol crowd “artfully” (i.e., in fast speed) while in Exploding Plastic Inevitable mode (Gerard and his whip dance is often present). Bowie was still in folkie / cutsie mode when he first heard “Waitin’ for My Man,” and (rightfully) became a huge VU fan. An example given here is his “Toy Soldier,” which is such a – er – homage to “Venus in Furs,” it even quotes it in a few place, such as the line “bleed for me.” The video for the song has someone dancing with whips. And on “Black County Rock,” as explained in this doc, Bowie even imitates Bolan. MainMan publicist and photographer Leee Black Childers, who would later manage Iggy and then the Heartbreakers, states here that Bowie’s true talent is to know what to steal. In fact he said this and many of other the other bon mots he posits in a FFanzeen interview conducted by our own Nancy Foster (aka Nancy Neon) back in 1982 (reprinted here: ffanzeen.blogspot.com/2010/02/portrait-leee-black-childers.html).

Andy Warhol is shown as possibly as big an influence as the VU, and to talk about the theatrics of the Factory and its influence on Bowie are the likes of the very wound up VU biographer Victor Bockris, the fabulous aforementioned Childers (who used to have one of the coolest motorcycle jackets ever, with an image of Gene Vincent painted on its back), the equally extraordinary Jayne County, smartly dressed in bright red Little Red Riding Hood mode (she even matches the couch!), 16 Magazine publisher (early on) and Ramones manager Danny Fields, and the Psychotic Frog himself (who was also one of Andy’s superstars), Jimi LaLumia. They paint a vivid picture of Lou and Andy’s influence on not only Bowie, but music in general. But Bowie is the main focus here, and in this case almost rightfully so, as Lee, Jayne, and Jimi were all hired by the Bow-ster to work with Tony DeFries and help run his production company, MainMan. One person seriously missing from the interview call list, though, is Cherry Vanilla, which is a serious deficit.

But the person of interest for me here, interview wise, is definitely Angela Bowie. A while back I found her kind of abrasive, but I must say that my opinion has totally changed, and I now I can see her as incredibly refreshing. She holds nothing back, and will tell the most intimate details at top volume. My apologies to you, for any negative thoughts I may have had in the past. But I digress…

Other interviewees include writers Paul Tryoka and Dave Thompson, and musician John Harlsen, who was a drummer on the Bowie-produced Lou Reed first popular solo effort, Transformer (as well as being Barry Womble, of the Rutles), which included his hits “Satellite of Love” and “Walk on the Wild Side.” They all paint a very detailed portrait of Bowie, and what effect Reed and Iggy had on him, and how Bowie had affected them. Also included are some short interviews (more likely called clips) with the key artists involved, such as Bowie (from 2001 and 2007), Lou Reed (1986), Iggy (1988), and just as importantly, Mick Ronson (looking extremely frail shortly before his death in 1993). There would arguably be no Bowie to the scale he achieved without Ronson as a musical driving force (rather than an influence, like Reed and Pop), I’m convinced.

Possibly one of Warhol’s biggest influences (and he really is as big as either Lou or Iggy in the David Jones pantheon) is the idea that “You’re a Star!” and if you act like it, people will come to believe and expect it. Even before the money, there was the wardrobe, the limos, the expense accounts, and all the trappings. LaLumia states it quite well when he relates that Bowie claimed that “I’m an actor. I’m not a musician. I’m portraying a rock star.” I can’t argue with that, as I’ve always found that Lou Reed was true to what he believed, as was Iggy totally committed to what he was doing, but Bowie was posing, rather than being. Perhaps that’s why I’ve never found him to be someone I’ve looked up to musically, especially in the reality of the punk days of the Ramones and the ilk.

While Iggy’s role in the Bowie history (and vice-versa) is more commonly known, there is much less about Iggy here than either Reed or especially Warhol. Bowie famously helped Pop both get off drugs and revive his career. For me, Bowie major force was in the studio as a producer, more than a vocalist, or especially as an innovator, as he was a series of influences creatively recast. Angela probably had as much to do with Bowie’s success as did David or Ronson – or even DeFries. And I won’t even detail Cherry Vanilla’s outreach program.

The added feature to the DVD is a seven-minute documentary called “The Nico Connection,” which shows how she had touched the lives of all three musicians that are the focus of the main feature. There is a bio for each of the contributors, and it put a smile on my face to see my pals the She Wolves given a shout out by Jayne County, as they’ve worked together over the past few years.

As a last note, I would like to add that after viewing this DVD, check out The Velvet Goldmine, which will then make so much more sense.


Bonus video

GARY GLITTER: Come Join His Gang (Yeah)!

Text by Mary Anne Cassata, 1985
Introduction by Robert Barry Francos, 2010
Live photos © Robert Barry Francos
© FFanzeen
Record images and videos from the Internet

The following article, written by Mary Anne Cassata, originally appeared in FFanzeen #13, from 1985.

Thanks to Mary Anne Cassata, I had the chance to catch not only Gary and his enormous toup play at NYC’s Limelight, which she mentions below, but I also had the opportunity to attend the press conference earlier, where FFanzeenphotographer extraordinaire Cathy Miller took a photo of him holding up one of our logo t-shirts (and another of me standing with Gary).

Yes, I know all about his disturbing sexual - ah - reputation, both in the UK and abroad, but this article was from way before any of that was known, and besides, this is a discussion about his musical legacy, not his jail-worthiness (rightful in my opinion). That being said, it is hard to read this interview today in hindsight without seeing irony in nearly every paragraph and many song or album titles.

Glitter’s music is especially catchy, which is why his “Rock and Roll (Parts One and Two)” is still used at nearly every sport event, even after all that has come to light. Joan Jett had covered a number of his songs, as well. It’s nearly impossible not to chant along with his boom-pa-TOOM, boom-pa-TOOM (etc.) rhythm that is as identifiable to him as that chukka-chukka is to Bo Diddley, or the I-IV-V to Chuck Berry (the true king of rock’n’roll).

The show at the Limelight (which started as a church, which became the Studio 54 wannabe Limelight, then became known as the Avalon, and is currently a shopping mall called the Limelight Market [thank you, Wikipedia]) was a blast, and it was obvious that Glitter was having fun as well, both of which fed each other into a love-fest of chants, sing-alongs, and joyous mayhem. Odds are he will never tour again (again, rightfully so), therefore I am happy to have had the chance to have had the experience when I did, free and clear of any guilt-by-association. Thanks, Mary Anne. – RBF, 2010

Who ever said old rock heroes just fade away? This may be true for some but not so for British phenomenon Gary Glitter. In the early ‘70s, he was acknowledged for inventing the flamboyant Glitter Rock era in America, and Glam Rock in England. Gary sold over 18 million records and had a total of 11 top-10 British chart singles between 1971 and 1975. With the release of his first Stateside hit single, “Rock and Roll (Parts One and Two),” Gary instantly became recognized as a rock legend.

With more than a decade behind him, the founding father of Glam Rock has returned in triumph, and is performing for American audiences for the first time. In support of the concert tour, Epic Records in America has released a “greatest hits” package album, appropriately entitled, The Leader. In a recent New York appearance at the Limelight, Gary thoroughly delighted an enthusiastic crowd with old favorites, like “I Didn’t Know I Loved You (Till I Saw You Rock and Roll),” “Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah?),” and “I’m the Leader of the Gang (I Am).” Not all of Gary’s song titles have parentheses.

Some of Glitter’s contenders, David Bowie, Marc Bolan of T-Rex, and in America, Alice Cooper, to name a few, helped preserve the musical movement that remained till its demise in mid-1975. Although many rock critics at the time, and the late Marc Bolan himself, had proclaimed that “Glitter Rock is dead,” Gary viewed these opinions in a different way: “Either you are into Glitter Rock or you are not,” he said, relaxing in his New York hotel suite. “I have always had my own audience. Mostly, I get a lot of skinheads and punks at my shows. You just can not say I have one kind of audience.” Although Gary says he feels like “a man out of time,” his music sure doesn’t qualify as a blast from the past.

“David Bowie said to me,” Glitter states rather casually, “’It’s strange. Some years you are really big in America and not so in Europe. Then there are other years when you are big in Europe and no so in the States.’ For me, I guess it’s like a time warp everywhere. But now I think the time is right for me in the USA.” It does seem pretty favorable for Gary, who has always attained a faithful following in the States. As he opens the show to “Rock and Roll (Parts One and Two),” the audience cheers wildly to the first sight of Glitter, who ascends down a flight of stairs to the center of the stage.

The audience has always played an important part in a Glitter performance. If his new show is any indication that Gary is determined to conquer America, then perhaps it could very well happen. Fans still come dressed to his shows in versions of re-vamped glittered remnants and six-inch heels. “They are my people, and I love them,” Gary says with a satisfied smile. “When I play, the crowd sings along in a loud voice. The audience is very special to me. When I sing, ‘Do You Wanna Touch Me,’ a sea of hands goes up. The whole place goes up. From where I stand on stage, everybody is clapping. I don’t think there are any language barriers in rock and roll. I get calls all the time from people in the States who want to come over and see my shows. It’s really a great feeling to be wanted.”

There is no doubt that Gary certainly has been a major influence on many of today’s artists, some of which include Joan Jett, Shrapnel, and Rock Goddess. These and many others have included Glitter’s songs in their repertoire.

After the successful New York appearance, Gary sat backstage awaiting the party to be given in his honor. “I really think New York is buzzing now,” he says, having a taste of wine. “This is really the best time for me. You just can’t be a rock singer and not play in the States. It has been a dream for me because I have always loved America. It’s the home of rock and roll.” So far, no performer has challenged to match the veteran performer’s distinct showmanship on stage. Instead, today’s musicians, like Adam Ant, Phil Oakly of Human League, Dig Wayne of the JoBoxers, and even Boy George, would rather regard Glitter a genius.

Nearly 10 years ago, Gary made his American television debut on The Wolfman Jack Show, in New York City. It was his 30th birthday at the time, and Gary felt a little lonely and homesick for London. “I just finished up the show and went back to my hotel,” he recalled. “I think it was the (St.) Regis Hotel [2 East 55 St. – RBF, 2010] then. I really felt pretty sad that night. I went to my room and opened the door and, to my surprise, inside were Rod Stewart, Maggie Bell, and Led Zeppelin! I couldn’t believe my eyes. What a surprise, and I was so tired that night, too. I just wanted to go to bed and sleep.”

Born with the customary name of Paul Gadd, in Bradbury Oxfordshire, Gary spent much of his childhood living in an orphanage. As a young boy, he had expressed a strong interest in rock and roll music, and formed his first band at 13 years old. Changing his name to Paul Raven, he performed for many years on the grueling British pub circuit. Under the name of Raven, he had a minor hit in London, which he considered to be “simply dreadful.” During his formative years, Gary cited Elvis Presley as an essential role model. “Elvis was my guiding light, my hero for all time,” he says. “The Elvis Presley book of pop star was my bible, so to speak.” Several more name changes ensured before finally settling on Gary Glitter.

The veteran entertainer has been delighting crowds for almost 30 years now. He started out by playing rhythm and blues, before eventually crossing over to rock and roll in the late ‘60s. At one point in his career he moved to Germany and lived there for 5 years, playing intimate clubs. At 40 years of age, Glitter doesn’t mind if people can see a “few lines on my face,” or the slow decline of his early ‘70s heydays. He agrees that starting from the bottom up again is the only way to achieve recognition once more.

“Performing is my best medium. I love it and couldn’t do anything else,” he explains very solemnly, as though he were giving a testimonial. “The only way for me to do these clubs so the people who still want to see me can. Whatever the street level is, I what I want to do. I can build it from there. I really believe the best way for me to do this is from the beginning. I think this is the right and only way for me.”

Although Gary has attained a following in the States, his greatest strength lies as a major attraction in Europe. The question that seems to come up more than often these days is, if Glitter is so popular in America, why didn’t he come here sooner? “I honestly didn’t think the time was right for me,” he replied a little uneasily, “but I think now is good for me. It took me such a long time to convince the media and public that I am something different. When I did ‘Rock and Roll (Parts One and Two),’ I was with a small record company. After they released two more singles of mine, the company was bought out by Columbia, which eventually became Arista. I just happened to get lost somewhere in the shuffle.”

It was the latter part of the ‘70s when Gary’s musical vision began to wither. At that point, he became saddled with legal problems, as well as his marriage coming to an abrupt end. The distraught performer went into a semi-retirement to rethink his goals for the future, before deciding to hit the concert trail again. “I didn’t go straight back into television and big concert halls,’ he explained. “I went out and played all the universities and small clubs. That is what builds up an audience. I think this is more of an honest way, and I feel very good about it, too.”

Earlier this year, he almost considered being an opening act for a popular British group, but declined the offer because he felt it wouldn’t be a wise career move. “I had to say no because the band was playing big stadiums and all, and had a lot of success. I just didn’t feel it was right for me. I need my own audience and I need them to feel a part of my show.” Although Gary’s music is widely known in America, he is not so as a performer. Witnessing Gary in concert is certainly a visual feat to behold. Besides elaborate outfits and dynamic stage sets – and above all glamour – Glitter gives an unforgettable show.

Some of the main elements of the early glitter sound consisted of dual drummers and live handclaps. Gary co-wrote most of his songs with partner Mike Leander. Although the duo has kept in touch over the years, it is only recently that they are working together again. With his new songs, Glitter hopes to recapture some of the glory of his heyday. “Dance Me Up” is his first American single, which is supported by a video. Radio airplay is scarce for the song at this time, but a new studio album is in progress [Boys Will Be Boys – RBF, 2010].

“What I am trying to do with my music now is very much as it was in the past,” Gary explained. “I have always been very drum-oriented. The sounds we were making then were way ahead of their time, musically. They have handclaps now on every song you hear. Now they use electronic handclaps. When we did it, we stood in the studio for three hours, just clapping.” Glitter favors simple pop lyrics over the more meaningful ones, because there is a certain humor to it. “My lyrics are always about the same sort of theme. They are a little bit naughty-but-nice, I would say. I don’t like heavy-handed songs at all.”

He leans back in his easy chair and stares inattentively for a moment. Reminiscing about the old days is always a welcomed topic of conversation for Glitter. “The ‘70s were a very exciting time for me,” he recalled. “Some of those people are still around, you know. Do you know if Marc Bolan were still here, he would be big today? We used to ring each other up and say not to release our songs at the same time so we could both be at number one. It is always nice to have a number one record. We were true fans of each other, too. Marc is certainly missed by all.”

In America, some people refer to Alice Cooper as “the Granddaddy of Punk,” while British fans call Gary “Glam Daddy,” or “Gazza.” Of course, Glitter finds this category amusing, even if it seems somewhat out of context. “Sometimes they call me the Godfather of Punk, too. Isn't that funny?” Gary laughs. “I think it is really funny. It is also flattering, too. I may not be as young as I look, but I feel great. You know, Slade is having a very big success now. Do you know why?” he asks rather casually, “Because they are a live band. I am too. We are not video-oriented bands at all. We get off our asses and tour. Keith Moon told me once, ‘There is always someone somewhere that wants to see you perform.’ He was right.”

While Gary quietly contemplates the future, he strongly feels that he won’t be a forgotten hero in the pages of rock history. “I don’t think there is any age to rock and roll,” he sums up the interview. “Like everybody else, I am in search of the American Dream. I am now ready for it. I really haven’t been given the chance for the kids in America to see what I do. I just want the kids to know I am real.” The 40-year-0ld rock legend paused as though he were expecting a response before adding, “Well, we all need a little Glitter in our lives, right? Everyone.”