TYRANNOSAURUS REX / T. REX
"I come from a time where the burning of trees was a crime"
Best Marc Bolan/T. Rex related site on the Web: Pavilions Of Sun!
General Rating: 3
ALBUM REVIEWS:
Disclaimer: this page is not written by from the point of view of a Marc Bolan fanatic and is not generally intended for narrow-perspective Marc Bolan fanatics. If you are deeply offended by criticism, non-worshipping approach to your favourite artist, or opinions that do not match your own, do not read any further. If you are not, please consult the guidelines for sending your comments before doing so.
In my earliest days I used to think of T. Rex as a generic heavy metal
band (sic!) of a cult appeal to braindead teenagers, the kind of stuff
that totally corresponds to the 'music' garbage that gets poured on the
average listener today. I dare say that this misconception is shared by
quite a few people; however, the real situation around Mr Marc Bolan
and his band is actually way more complicated than it seems even to those
who think they have gotten into Bolan and his world of fun, but
trashy glam-rock. In other words, the scepticism around Marc should be
evaporated according to the following two steps: (a) put on 'Bang A Gong'
or any of his other innumerable glam hit singles and witness the man's
talent and rather uncommon way of getting under your skin with even the
silliest of his ditties; (b) next, realize that there's much, much more
to Marc's music than 'Bang A Gong', especially if you hunt for his earlier
albums and his later ones.
Indeed, it's a great irony that Marc Bolan is best known for his early
Seventies' glam albums. Historically speaking, his 1970-73 period, during
which he was causing 'TRextasy' among Britain's starry-eyed teenagers,
may indeed be his most important one; after all, albums like Electric
Warrior signalized his major breakthrough, his rise to stardom and
the beginning of 'classic' glam rock as we know it: without Electric
Warrior, there'd be no Ziggy Stardust, that's for sure, as Bowie's
image in the early Seventies' was closely patterned along the lines of
Bolan. And it's also true that his classic glam stuff is the most acceptable
in his career. Why shouldn't it be? Simplistic, derivative ballads and
traditional boogie-woogie, all based on solid hooks and all of them with
an interesting edge - Marc's mystical, 'bleating' vocals, the sharp, catchy
sound of his band, and the incredible drive usually makes his material
stand far ahead of many of his less imaginative peers.
Even so, for the most part it's product. Glam's main flaw is the very essence
of glam - an emphasis on theater, mystification, pomp and braggardness.
No, even in his prime glam days Marc Bolan was always more than
your average glam posturer like Gary Glitter or crass goofdolls like Alice
Cooper (not to offend Alice fans - the guy did have some interesting songs,
but essentially he's just a hoax); but why was he more?
Because he had a superb legacy, that's why. Few people know it, but Marc
Bolan's career didn't begin with 'Bang A Gong'; it started with 'Deborah',
way back in 1967. And for two or three years, when his band (or, frankly
speaking, his duet with Steve Peregrine Took) was still sporting the full,
unabbreviated name without the silly dot, Marc was something of a hippie
guru, playing trippy, unprecedented acoustic 'mantras' that were equally
influenced by Indian music, Bob Dylan, and J. R. R. Tolkien. The early
Tyrannosaurus Rex style may be a hard thing to swallow for many people,
and even today, it's tough luck to meet a critic that wouldn't condemn
this music as 'badly dated'; hell, it would even be tough luck to meet
a critic that would have actually heard some of it. History (or
should we say - American music industry) has passed its verdict, and there's
no doubt in my mind that it's one of the most unjust verdicts ever made.
If you haven't heard any of Bolan's better early albums, you basically
don't understand what the man is about, and that's that. I'm serious.
Only selected traces of his early style, however, are evident in Bolan's
glam compositions. These are mostly prominent in his lyrics, which should
often be paid attention to: while he did occasionally let himself down
by penning teenage girl-attracting odes like 'Life's A Gas' or 'Jeepster',
much of that stuff is pretty funny and intelligent, and sometimes his wordplay
is downright fascinating, though it never reaches the heights of the Guru
- Bob Dylan. As for the music, that's another thing: the music had changed
drastically into a more generic, easily accessible direction. But at least
it perfectly suited the teenage ideal - and yeah, young men did have something
to boogie along to on a Saturday night. If that's your problem, scoop up
The Slider today.
It's equally sad that, as the glam craze passed away and Bolan lost his
golden commercial touch (which was somewhere on the border of 1973 and
1974), nobody paid any further attention to his music anyway. Meanwhile,
he released album after album, up to his very death in 1977, and kept varying
his style, experimenting with different genres, from soul to disco, and
always verging on the brink between great simplicity and worthless banality,
but never really crossing it except for a couple of really unfortunate
times. He'd had his artistic ups and downs, but he was never completely
burned out: his very last album, Dandy In The Underworld, still
shows an artist with enough talent to burn, and, while it doesn't vary
from the 'formula' that much so as to show us what further directions
the man would have taken, it's still an incredibly strong record for 1977.
Maybe Marc would have gone on to become a punk star? Nobody knows, as he
perished in a car crash that year, leading him to a 'dead legend' status
and causing record companies to shoot off an endless current of posthumous
releases that are still flooding the market up to this very day.
In brief, Bolan is an artist well worth to get to know; however, passing
a judgement on him based exclusively on records like Electric Warrior
or Slider is like passing a judgement over Bowie for Ziggy Stardust
without having heard anything else. Please take my intro (and the ensuing
reviews) as a warning, and as a recommendation: whenever you see a Sixties'
Bolan album (especially My People Were Fair and Unicorn),
be sure to grab it fast.
Line-up (this is not very important, of course, as T. Rex is Bolan,
but still, some of the other guys did make important contributions to the
sound): Tyrannosaurus Rex - Marc Bolan (guitar, vocals), Steve
Peregrine Took (percussion, vocals). Steve was fired in 1970, replaced
by Mickey Finn (percussion, keyboards, vocals). The duet abbreviated
its name to T. Rex at the end of the year.
The 'classic' T. Rex (grown to a full-fledged band in 1971): Bolan - guitar,
vocals; Finn - percussion, vocals; Steve Currie - bass; Bill
Legend - drums. Legend quit, 1974, replaced by Davey Lutton;
in 1975 the band expanded, adding Dino Dines on keyboards. Finn
quit, 1976; for the last two albums, a whole pack of session players was
used, and I don't really know whether any of them were official members
of the band. I don't care either.
Believe it or not, I have finally managed to assemble a full collection
of all the regular Tyrannosaurus Rex and T. Rex studio output, but I have
to warn you from the very beginning that Bolan's posthumous catalog is
only second to that of Jimi Hendrix, and it's very easy to get lost in
the zillions of archive releases - for instance, you can easily scoop up
the so-called 'alternative' versions of most of T. Rex's original albums
which are actually just collections of demo versions and only present any
interest for the hardcore fan. On the other hand, certain archive releases
like Bolan's BBC sessions are definitely not to be missed by anyone. Therefore,
be sure to follow the exact discography presented here on the site.
What do YOU think about Tyrannosaurus Rex?
Mail your ideas
ALBUM REVIEWS
Year Of Release: 1974
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
Early demos with a strong Dylan/blues influence; heavily recommended
if you dig Steve Took.
Best song: JASPER C. DEBUSSY
This is certainly it - the 'Great Lost Bolan Album'. It, however, has
a particularly twisted and hard-to-follow history which I'm still not quite
aware of. Let me just make a half-baked historical excourse, then. It all
begins with Mark Feld, a teenage ambitious gentleman, who wanted very much
to be the next Dylan but who also loved Tolkien and the elves a lot; as
a result, he changed his name to Marc Bolan (rumours have it that Bolan
is actually just a contraction of Bob Dylan) and started
poking around early swingin' London, somewhere around 1966 and 1967. This
album is constituted of various scraps and snippets of all kinds of projects
he'd been busy in during these two years: a couple of singles he put out
all by himself, a couple of demos from his work with the psychedelic band
John's Children, some demos he'd recorded all by himself with an acoustic,
and some outtakes from the My People Were Fair sessions - Marc working
with Steve Took, about whom see below for more details.
It must be noted, however, that the album itself was only released in 1974
- at least, that's what history says about it. My CD liner notes, however,
state that Marc's record company never wanted to fiddle much with the project,
assuming that by 1974 the world didn't really need Marc's acoustic talents,
and retrieved the release. I surmise they retrieved it, not cancelled
it - if they'd cancelled the project, the date '1974' wouldn't probably
be sticking out in all discographies available. But 1974 or later, all
of these songs date back to 1966 and 1967, and that's why I place the record
at the very beginning of the page.
Unlike ninety-nine percent of Marc's archive releases that are in the first
place 'documents' and can only be called 'artworks' with a big skewer and
smile, The Beginning Of Doves is by no means a 'document'. Sure,
some of the songs on here have later been redone by Tyrannosaurus Rex on
several of their albums, but for the most part, the material is not duplicated,
and, while the arrangements are naturally simplistic and stripped, only
the shortest tracks on the record give the impression of hastily played
demos. It is thus perfectly acceptable to count The Beginning Of Doves
as a logical predecessor to the Rex period, and a fascinating one at that.
It is clear that in these early years Marc was still deeply rooted in the
kinds of music he'd been raised on, mostly American one: traditional boogie,
Delta blues and the Dylanish branch of folk ditties. The first influence
can only be seen in the first and last tracks on the record. 'Jasper C.
Debussy' is an instant classic, a frantic, sped-up variation on a honky-tonk
theme with some hot-shot session player banging away on the piano and Marc's
vocals coming across loud and clear as he cries out that 'Jasper C. Debussy
that's his ki-i-i-nd of fu-u-u-u-n...' Honky-tonk blues, yes, but ever
heard someone bleeting away with such power and conviction over lyrics
that make so little sense? And 'Sally Was An Angel' is ripped off from
'Heartbreak Hotel' (he even goes as far as to completely copy the line
'but I'm so lonely'), but I really don't mind - and it's fun how the song
suddenly changes from an echoey acoustic shuffle to an all-out rocking
version (the two are spliced - not sure if the song was really done like
that in 1967 or it was re-edited later).
The boogie influence is nevertheless subdued here - and it would soon disappear
completely, not to return until Marc's reincarnation under the T. Rex moniker.
But the rest of the numbers can be defined as a weird take on traditional
blues, with fluent guitar picking replaced by nervous, paranoid strumming
and the booming, hoarse voice of the old bluesman replaced by the shrill,
bleeting voice of the young mystical dandy (soon to be named 'the bopping
elf' by critics). Oh, and the lyrics, of course - if anything was right
there from the very beginning, it's the lyrics. Schizophrenic and dark
in 'Lunacy's Back', happy and aethereal in 'Beyond The Risin' Sun', magical
and mystical in 'You Got The Power' - this is as weird a cross between
Bob and J. R. R. as possible.
The only thing I'm not too happy about is that the very fact that Marc
is still so closely attached to 'traditional' song structures ultimately
works against him: there are too few really outstanding melodies, instrumental
or vocal, to completely justify the record's existence. I dunno, 'Hippy
Gumbo', for instance, is a spooky little tune that I find a pleasure to
listen to, but I can easily substitute Marc's vocal for something more
routine and... it's just a boring, simplistic folk composition. Figures.
And 'One Inch Rock'? It's just a Bolan-ic.. eh... interpretation of a rock'n'roll
(later redone far better on the T. Rex album). For the uninitiated
ones, this may be shocking, but I tell you - after sitting through
the first two Tyrannosaurus Rex albums, Doves will seem pretty straightforward
to you. It would take Marc just a bit more interaction with Took and presto,
off the deep end they would go - into something completely unpredictable.
That said, the record certainly has its share of solid moments - apart
from the numbers I have already mentioned. the title track, 'Eastern Spell'
and 'Sara Crazy Child' all qualify, and certain songs like 'Mustang Ford'
and 'Misty Mist' would later be redone in slightly superior versions. And
its relative accessibility makes this an easier listen than the trusty
Tyrannosaurus, so if you're a, ahem, 'sissy' but would like to try the
acoustic Bolan, go ahead and delve in.
But I warn you - you must have a high tolerancy level for ble-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eting.
You got the power to
mail your ideas
MY
PEOPLE WERE FAIR AND HAD SKY IN THEIR HAIR BUT NOW THEY'RE CONTENT TO WEAR
STARS ON THEIR BROWS
(released by: TYRANNOSAURUS REX)
Year Of Release: 1968
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
Charming, totally drugged and spaced out acoustic hippie crap. You'll
probably hate it, but I think it's kinda cool, in a perverse way.
Best song: FROWNING ATAHUALLPA (MY INCA LOVE)
Tyrannosaurus Rex? Marc Bolan? Generic glam rock crap? Radio fodder
of the Seventies? 'TRextasy'? Well, no. This is not T Rex by any
means. This is way before Marc Bolan decided to cash in on the nascent
glam rock movement, became one of its forefathers and seduced millions
of teenagers just like Leo DiCaprio does it nowadays. This is not the glam
rock band T Rex - this is the hippie duet Tyrannosaurus Rex, consisting
of just Bolan on vocals and acoustic guitars and his companion Steve Peregrin
Took on all kinds of weird percussion. It was recorded somewhere on the
brink of 1967 and 1968, a long way before Bolan took on all of his glam
attributes. In those early days, after Marc had overcome his passion for
Elvis Presley and subdued his passion for Bob Dylan, his main idol was
quickly becoming Syd Barrett, and it's no small coincidence that a large
percent of these 'songs' (although 'acid mantras' is a more suitable term)
are strongly influenced by Piper At The Gates Of Dawn. Bolan's hippie
past has been rejected by his later fans and himself, and critics prefer
not to mention it at all, but to me, this stuff seems, in a certain sense,
much more interesting and intriguing than the glam year products.
If anything, this is simply a unique experience. Silly, disposable, meaningless,
boring (from a logical point of view) and monotonous, yes. But it's well
worth to hear this album at least once - and not just because it arguably
sports the longest title in existence. Bolan takes an ounce of his new
idol Syd Barrett, an ounce of his old idol Bob Dylan, an ounce of his earliest
idols the Beach Boys, an ounce of Indian music and an ounce of Tolkien
and throws this all together in one of the most bizarre and exciting melting
pots that were ever seen in the whole hip movement. Along the way he adds
something of his own, of course: tremendously off-putting (but also tremendously
fun) 'bleating' vocals, later put to better use by David Bowie, enthralling,
simplistic acoustic melodies, some of which are just bland strumming, but
some are almost punkish, and lyrics that verge in between the mystical
and the insane.
It would also be necessary to notice that the album does not really grate
on you like many 'masterpieces' of the epoch do. First of all, it's short;
it's all over just after thirty minutes, which might even leave you begging
for a bit more. Second, the individual tracks are also all short: none
go over four minutes, and some don't even go over two. The only major exception
is the lengthy album closer 'Frowning Atahuallpa (My Inca Love)', but it's
also the record's strongest cut, built on a lovely folkish melody, and
I simply go crazy over the 'du-na-ra-du-na-ra-du' scat singing of Bolan
which he does in between verses, alternating bleating syllables with gruff,
low syllables... you just need to hear this to believe me. Unfortunately,
just after two and a half minutes he goes into this krishnaite 'jam' -
if you can call something played on an acoustic guitar and congas a 'jam'
- that spoils the fun, before the song turns into a disjointed 'poem' read
by disk jockey John Peel, a big fan of Bolan, and finally reverts to the
gentle closing lines where Marc gets to actually spelling the album title.
The other songs are simply impossible to describe. Well, a couple of them
might be classified as 'blues' (the opener, 'Hot Rod Mama', is fairly simple
in that respect), but the others couldn't even be classified as 'folk'.
Perhaps 'stream of conscience' would be a better word, as Bolan spits out
lyrics like 'Lillyputian, evil in the eyes of a man with the leaf harp/He
lusts for the urchin hiding under mountains of moleskin' ('Strange Orchestras')
over his sometimes generic, sometimes very unusual acoustic work. And,
by the way, that Steve Peregrine Took (whose real name I haven't been able
to secure; 'Peregrine Took', as you probably know, is the name of a notorious
hobbit) sure can play some percussion - his beats add quite a lot to the
sound. The weirdest stuff, though, comes in when Marc finishes half-singing,
half-bleating, half-rapping, half-mumbling, half-whining (gee, just how
many halves has this guy got?) the lyrics and begins simply improvising
more vocals to make things seem even trippier than they are. Check out
that cool ending of 'Dwarfish Trumpet Blues', for instance, where he chants
this 'da-da-da-da' mantra for what seems like hours (although it's actually,
like, about thirty seconds) and then just totally goes mad. Or the end
of 'Strange Orchestras'? Now THAT is some cool vocal experimentation! Howling,
screaming, and harmonizing at the same time! Pretty adventurous and mind-blowing
for an album whose budget did not exceed four hundred pounds, if I'm not
mistaken.
But that's not all - if you dig deep enough, you'll find some incredibly
rewarding stuff. Like I said, 'Frowning Atahuallpa' is simply beautiful,
and there are other gorgeous melodies here: 'Scenescof' and 'Afghan Woman',
for instance. Don't try to say they aren't gorgeous: they are, and not
even Bolan's bleating can spoil them. It can't, it actually adds to the
sound. But if you doubt his vocal talents at all, check out the perfectly
harmonized, luxuriant 'Chateau In Virginia Waters' which reminds me of
Brian Wilson. Yes it does, please do not laugh at me until you actually
heard the record.
Of course, I kept silence about the flaws of the album: I guess they're
more or less obvious. The worst is that it gets much too monotonous,
and addition of fodder like 'Graceful Fat Sheba'
or 'Wielder Of Words' doesn't do much to secure its glory. And perhaps
the weirdness is a bit overdone in general, too: I can't really imagine
anybody wanting to listen to this over and over and over again, certainly
not me. But I give it an overall rating of eleven in any case, and that's
pretty damn much for a 'hippie crap' album. It would be easier, of course,
to simply say something like 'like most of contemporary Flower Power recordings,
this one has dated beyond repair'; but it's simply not true. It has dated
because nobody does stuff like that any more; but I tell you, I would personally
exterminate all modern MTV bands with a bazooka in hand for a record like
this to be made in our times. Just imagine the artistic freedom in the
Sixties! This was actually written, recorded and - holy crap! - even played
on the radio, by same lucky guy John Peel (I therefore forgive him for
adding his stupid poem). And I heard some critics even gave it positive
reviews back then. It didn't sell, of course, because hippies were probably
having problems with having to actually read the album's title from beginning
to end, but that's okay. Me, I don't regret even a second for buying this.
Note that the album seems to be out of print in the USA; but if you happen
to see it cheap in used bins or somewhere, grab it and grab it fast. If
anything, it's just a priceless document of the British hippie movement
- which, as you might guess, was fairly different from the States hippie
movement.
Hot rod mama mail
your ideas now
PROPHETS,
SEERS & SAGES THE ANGELS OF THE AGES
(released by: TYRANNOSAURUS REX)
Year Of Release: 1968
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 9
Same ideas, little less enthusiasm; my senses are slowly getting
bored.
Best song: STACEY GROVE
Eh. Now these guys are really trying our patience. I said in
the previous review that My People didn't sell, well, that's actually
not exactly true - as it turns out, the album was a sensation in
the underground and climbed as far as No. 15 in the UK charts for a short
while. The problem is, Marc and Steve didn't seem to make any profit out
of it, as their second album was recorded in exactly the same vein as the
first, by means of an acoustic guitar and Steve's arsenal of percussion.
(And no it wasn't just an artistic stunt: it is a well-known fact that
My People was entirely acoustic because the guys didn't have the
cash to equip themselves properly, their electric instruments being repossessed
by the hire purchase company). So there's an evident lack of new interesting
ideas, and where My People struck you with its freshness and groundbreaking,
Prophets doesn't do that: it's only enjoyable if the debut album
made you a thoroughly converted fan. The melodies are also not as entertaining
- basically, I can't find even a single tune on this record that matches
the graceful weirdness of 'Frowning Atahualpa' or 'Scenescof'. Let me just
state here in anticipation that this problem would be corrected on their
following and last album (which is arguably their highest point, melody-wise);
Prophets, however, sounds like a typical outtakes album from My
People, and you can imagine the way an album of outtakes from a crazy
hippie album should sound.
In desperation, Bolan does pull out a few tricks that are supposed to represent
some kind of 'progress'. Thus, the vocal harmonies part is slightly improved
upon - I don't know if the kids are actually helped by June Child, former
Pink Floyd 'secretary' and future bride of Marc, but I wouldn't be surprised
if it were so. Anyway, the otherworldly harmonies on 'O Harley (The Saltimbanques)'
are really something, and many other tracks are also graced accordingly.
And on several of the tracks Bolan uses various gimmicks that he probably
considered 'cool', although it's sure debatable: thus, 'Deboraarobed',
as is more or less evident from the title, represents a 'doubled' version
of their non-hit single 'Debora' with the second half being actually the
first one rolled backwards - completely. Now this is certainly just
a gimmick, but the grooviest thing is, both parts sound exactly the
same. Huh. I'm not even pulling your leg on that one. Have you ever
heard the sound of congos played backwards? Makes no significant difference...
The other gimmick is rote, though - just as the last of the thirteen short
tracks pass you by, Bolan gives the sign for 'Scenescof Dynasty' - but
the title is actually misleading, as the song has nothing to do with the
real 'Scenescof'; it's just a lengthy, four-minute 'poetry monologue' that
Marc recites accompanied by nothing but Took's handclaps. The 'poetry',
of course, is nothing but the usual stream-of-conscience, full of lines
like 'me I fought a great worm/Sent to taste my jaguar feet/And used his
scin to make my wings begin/I sussed and stole a scene from Icarus' and
all that jive, and where it's long, monotonous and completely music-free,
it's also boring and irritating.
Much the same, unfortunately, can be said about quite a fair share of other
tunes on here. The best stuff is all grouped near the beginning - the album
actually does start on a high note, with a few tunes that can be viewed
as solid, accomplished songs. 'Stacey Grove' is a great footstomper about
a 'nice cat' who 'sits on a log picking ticks off the back of his dog',
with a catchy, friendly chorus and an overall wonderful feel. 'Wind Quartets',
on the oter side, is bleak and depressing, with Bolan at his best 'senile'
delivery - just listen to him mumbling 'wind quartet... qqq... qqquartet...
wind quartet... qqq... qqquartet...', and the falsetto 'aaah' chanting
is so moody I could almost cry! Well, no, I couldn't, but the song does
depress. Believe me. And 'Conesuala' (sic!) has a strong, intriguing melody
as well, ignoring the fact that the main riff to the song is borrowed from
Elvis' 'His Latest Flame', or at least, so it seems to me. Finally, 'Trelawny
Lawn' showcases the gentleness and depth of Bolan's voice (probably the
only reason I like the song), as well as introduces the concept of the
unicorn, so vital for their next album.
And that's it. The following eight tracks could go to hell for all I care.
There are bits and snatches and bits and snatches and moments and moments
and more moments when my attention gets chained to some occasional groovy
weirdness (the 'di-da-di-da' bit on 'Aznageel The Mage'; the above-mentioned
harmonies on 'O Harley'; the amusing 'choowoo-choowoo' chanting on 'Salamanda
Palaganda'), but in general these tunes are pretty much forgettable, like
the weaker stuff on My People. The good news is that they're all
short, many hardly going over one minute; but taken in total, they still
constitute at least half of the album, and the murky 'Scenescof Dynasty'
that closes the record sure does nothing to improve the situation.
Perhaps the main reason is in that the record was obviously rushed out
- it was issued just three months after the debut, a period hardly acceptable
even for major acts, and the proportion of filler couldn't help but be
inadequate. You know what, though - a cleverly crafted 45-minute compilation
of material from both of these albums could be a powerful masterpiece in
the right hands. Now that it's possible to burn CDs, I heartily invite
everybody who's lucky enough to possess My People and Prophets
to think how such a compilation should really look like.
Deboraarobed! ?saedi
ruoy era erehW
UNICORN
(released by: TYRANNOSAURUS REX)
Year Of Release: 1969
Record rating = 10
Overall rating = 13
This is just a very, very special experience. Not for the weak-hearted,
but this is really a record like NOTHING else.
Best song: ISCARIOT
Oh my God. Marc Bolan knows how to write solid melodies. It took
him a whole year and one plodding self-repetition to figure it out, but
it finally happened. Unicorn is the absolute peak of the early phase
of Bolan's songwriting, singing, arranging, and his idealism in general,
and so far I find it reasonable to qualify the album as the most underrated
record of 1969 (which did have its fair share of unjustly overlooked
records, simply because there were so many non-overlooked ones). It is
vastly superior in just about every respect to the two records that preceded
it, and is thus a perfect place to start with the duet.
What actually happened? Well, first of all, the budget thing was probably
improving. This time, the guys don't limit themselves to acoustic/percussion;
I mean, there are still no signs of any electric instrument, but that's
due more to tradition already than to financial troubles. On the other
hand, they add all kinds of instrumentation - pianos, glockenspiel, harmonium,
etc., and engage in various kinds of studio trickery, led by the trusty
producer Tony Visconti. So the record never really grates on you, as there's
enough instrumental variety to save you from developing an alergy on Bolan's
guitar picking style.
Second, Unicorn is far more restricted than the previous albums.
Hardcore fans of the boppin' elf might therefore prefer the earlier efforts
- I can easily see some of the more rabid devotees condemning Unicorn
as a pop sellout. But there is still enough weirdness to distinguish it
from any other pop album ever made, and as for me, well, I just think that
here Bolan found a perfect balance between his trademark style and the
listeners' tolerance. No more krishnaite jams, no more lengthy screeching
bunches of noise, just pretty music and gorgeous singing.
Try as I might, out of the sixteen numbers on the record I can't pick out
even a single one that would be 'absolute filler' - some are weaker than
the others, but all of them stem directly from the heart. Of course, you
might justly ask the question: how in the world can a song stem directly
from the heart if it features lyrics like 'Catblack the wizard's hat/Spun
in lore from Dagamoor/The skull of jade was pearl inlaid/The silks, skin
spun, repelled the Sun' ("Catblack")? And the answer is: you
may laugh at me, but Bolan actually believes in this stuff. Tripped
out, loony, hippie crap, whatever; here's a young lad who finds it a great
pleasure reveling in his self-created, Tolkien-inspired world and doesn't
give a damn. I can perfectly easily identify with him (there was a time
when I went crazy over Tolkien, too). But he's not just a bland Tolkien
imitator - no, Robert Plant he is not. He's got his own unique brand of
imagery; yeah, maybe he's just crossing Tolkien with Dylan, but you gotta
admit that nobody ever tried that before.
And the best thing about it is that he manages not to sound pretentious
or overblown. Maybe it's just his hilarious (sometimes rising to magnificent)
bleating voice that downplays the pathos of the lyrics; maybe it's the
lyrics themselves that always contain some self-undermining. Come on now.
'Handsome as life/He's our lord and we trust in him/To move like the wind/As
our friend and guardian/The elements and oceans congregate on his brow/And
he stalks in style like a royal crocodile'. Who can call this pretentious?
Who can call this bad poetry, either?
Yep. I suppose that a very high rating could be guaranteed to the record
even if it never contained anything but 'Iscariot' - the definitive Tyrannosaurus
Rex song. Like any Tyrannosaurus Rex, it's almost impossible to describe;
let's just say that the chorus ('fire of my love will burn you to a wizened
word, for ere to go unheard') is one of the fiercest and most intricate
statements of reproach I've ever heard (the song seems to be about a betrayed
love, hence the title). Don't believe me? Just go ahead and try singing
that vocal melody. It's nigh near impossible to repeat, and I'm
completely serious.
And that's just one song. It's impossible to name all the highlights, so
I'll just mention some of my favourites. 'The Misty Coast Of Albany' is
one - catchy as hell, bouncy, mystical, with a strong Celtic influence,
yet completely idiosyncratic, and featuring one of Bolan's best vocal deliveries
on the album. Check out Across The Airwaves for a lengthier, more
tripped out version. 'Chariots Of Silk' is another, a perfect introduction
to the record if there ever was one, a gorgeous love ballad highlighted
by Took's pompous drumbeats and a graceful accordeon in the background.
'She Was Born To Be My Unicorn' is almost countryish, but with all the
studio gimmickry, Took's 'd-d-d-d-d-dee' in the background, and Bolan's
sly falsetto, it's again completely unlike anything you heard before. 'Evenings
Of Damask' is moody, atmospheric, relaxin'... don't forget the background
vocals that give the song a special red cherry. 'The Sea Beasts', in an
electric arrangement, could be a powerful, engaging rocker; in an acoustic
version, the song is still powerful enough.
But I suppose I'll just stop here - like I said, it's practically impossible
to describe this kind of music. About the only serious misfire of the record
is the closing 'Romany Soup', which begins with John Peel reading yet another
children's story going from one speaker to another, and ends with the duet
chanting 'Romany Soup, I need some Romany Soup' for what seems like an
eternity; perversely, this is the longest number on the whole album. What
the hell, I still give it a 10 - all the other numbers are immaculate.
As soon as you get used to Bolan's vocal style, you'll just have to agree
with me on that one.
Unfortunately, this was the duet's last album - Steve Took was fired several
months after its release for too much drugs and uncontrollable behaviour,
including elements of political radicalism (sic!).Actually, I believe he
was just a bit too independent for Bolan. Anyway, Lord only knows where
they could have gone on from here. But as far as psychedelic Tolkien-inspired
records go, they don't really get much better than Unicorn; and
I seriously doubt that the duet could have surpassed that achievement.
As it was, Marc just veered into other directions, some of them almost
as fascinating, some not as fascinating; yet the power, conviction and
songwriting displayed on here would never be recaptured completely.
In conclusion, I'll just repeat that Unicorn is the best, most convincing
and exciting release ever to come out of the whole British hip movement.
Screw Donovan, screw Syd Barrett (oh, by the way, fans of The Madcap
Laughs are quite welcome here - if you're able to tolerate Barrett's
vocals on that record, I suppose tolerating Marc would not be a serious
problem); on Unicorn, Tyrannosaurus Rex effectuate the best synthesis
of Tolkien, Dylan, stripped-down arrangements, nonsensical mystique, and
deeply veiled tongue-in-cheekiness that was at all possible in their time.
Iscariot! Still
no ideas?
A
BEARD OF STARS
(released by: TYRANNOSAURUS REX)
Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12
A transitional album: Marc slowly metamorphosing into a rocker. That
just adds more exquisiteness to the record.
Best song: WIND CHEETAH
Oh dear, life's definitely not a gas. Last time I looked, there was
this battle of the bands in Rolling Stone, and the Beatles managed to win
over 'N Sync... 51 percent to 49 percent. Apparently, 'N Sync and the Fab
Four should now be considered glimmer twins. And last time I looked, they're
putting Unicorn in the 'glam rock, rock & roll' section in the
All-Music Guide even if nobody there has even heard the album. Apocalypsis
is somewhere around the corner, isn't it?
Just one more reason to take another listen to A Beard Of Stars,
an album that's quite apocalyptic, in certain ways. There's just something
not right in the way Marc is looking at us from the front cover, isn't
it? (Even if I consider it to be his best album photo ever - he just looks
so damn cool with that hairstyle). And the overall tone of the record is
somewhat more grim than the previous one, even if there are no pessimistic
overkills of the 'Iscariot' type.
Anyway, the story so far: after the split of the original duet, Marc found
a suitable replacement in the person of Mickey Finn, similar to Steve Took
in that he looked just as wild and 'medieval', more or less, and dissimilar
in that he was a far less experienced player. Eventually, he was kept more
because of his looks and his friendliness (and because he would obviously
never have too much ambitions) rather than because of his playing, but
Marc was able to tolerate his somewhat offkey background vocals and somewhat
offbeat congo rhythms. Nevertheless, this means that the role of percussion
on Beard Of Stars is fairly subdued - Took was at least thrice as
inventive as Mickey, and as a result, the new Tyrannosaurus Rex loses a
great deal of the 'elfish charm' that made previous albums so unimitable.
However - the creative percussion is gone, but the electric guitar is in.
No, of course this is not the classic T. Rex style yet; the electric guitar
is mostly used for embellishments, and in a certain way this album can
be compared to Dylan's 'electric' side of Bringing It All Back Home,
where the electric guitar was used but never found itself at the center
of the sound. Bolan isn't an ace player by any means, but his guitar playing
skills are still way beyond ordinary: he dishes out creative, tasteful
solos and lays on several masterful overdubs - just listen to the delicious
polyphony on 'A Daye Laye'.
With all these changes, it's no wonder that Beard Of Stars doesn't
sound an inch like Unicorn. Only on a couple of tracks the boys
deliver a typical 'classic Rex' sound, and they're predictably top notch,
especially the beautifully vocalized 'Pavilions Of Sun' where Bolan really
shines in his vocal crescendos. Yet even 'Pavilions Of Sun' features a
grizzly wah-wah solo that almost seems to fall out of nowhere - all the
rest of the track is completely acoustic. Old Steve Took fans might also
take some delight in some of the tracks on the second side, such as the
majestic 'Great Horse' and the pretty ballad 'Dove' (not a highlight).
Elsewhere the transitional character of the record really shines through
- Bolan is spreading his tentacles in all directions, treading water here
and giving up ground there, which results in the songs not always being
enjoyable but always interesting. For starters, both sides of the album
open with short little instrumental compositions showcasing Marc's electric
soloing - funny, listening to 'Prelude' will make you think he can hardly
play that instrument at all, but the solo in the title track is quite emotional
and fiery. And the songs themselves fall into a large set of categories.
'Organ Blues' is supposed to be blues, and apparently it is structured
like a blues, but you gotta hear that blues. I doubt you ever experienced
a blues song with the only prominent instruments being congos and a monotonous
atonal organ pattern. And listen to Mickey Finn not really holding
that rhythm down, heh heh...
In this context, 'By The Light Of A Magical Moon' strikes you as being
pretty normal - a pretty pop song with pretty normal lyrics, a pretty normal
acoustic melody and pretty normal electric fills. It's still beautiful.
But just as it ends, the boys slap you down with 'Wind Cheetah', a slow,
wintery-gothic composition that sends chills down my back. Bolan doesn't
even sing on that one, it's enough for him to just recite the lyrics with
that spooky ominous voice of his, and the duet of the stately organ and
the evil, distorted guitar solo really fits the Sabbath-dominated epoch
of 1970. Of course, Bolan adds intelligency to the evil vibe, a thing that
Sabbath could only dream of...
But that's not all - just as you sat through the thirteen standard tracks
of the album and are bracing yourself for the obligatory lengthy conclusion
- you might have noticed that all Tyrannosaurus Rex albums feature one
and only one extended workout at the end - Bolan finally comes out of the
closet and demonstrates to you that he really is a rocker. He just was
undercover all the time, see? 'Elemental Child' starts out as a real, distorted,
electric-dominated rocker - all two minutes of it. Then, Marc takes a little
pause, breathes in a little air, and lashes out with a primal, visceral
boogie of such tremendous ferocity as you could never suspect in the 'boppin'
elf' judging by his previous albums. The seeds of Electric Warrior
and Tanx are clearly here, in these fat, paranoid chords, as Bolan
simply proceeds to beat the shit out of his guitar with a specific, Bolanic
technique that I have never met even in the hands of Pete Townshend. Just
a guitar, just one guitar, but he brews up a storm. No wonder the punks
loved Marc so much. A tremendous climax, and so far, the best ending to
any Bolan album I've ever heard. With each chord taken, you can slowly
feel the word 'Tyrannosaurus' crumple into dust, only the trusty letter
'T' and a dot being left behind.
By the light of a magical moon
I'll be waiting for your ideas
T.
REX
Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
Another transitional album - great instrumentation and diversity,
although not nearly as hypnotic as the previous stuff.
Best song: JEWEL
Sometimes called by the critics a 'regression' into the hippiesque 'atrocities'
of the past, but bite me, I really can't see no particular regression.
The sound sure doesn't change as much from the last record, though; it's
the same curious mix of acoustic/electric and, only T. Rex is a
bit worse because it looks like a particularly disjointed album; I mean,
for the first time you really get the impression that Marc isn't quite
sure where to go and what to do next. He incorporates a bit more rock and
roll on here than on Beard, but there are also pretty acoustic ballads
in the Beard style meshed in together with bits of weirdness a
la Took stuff and a lengthy psychedelic epic ('The Wizard'), more or
less in the vein of all those mantras that used to bookmark his Tolkien-style
records. The fact that there's a bit of everything makes T. Rex
arguably the most diverse album in the entire Bolan catalog, but this is
unwanted diversity that's more caused by frustrated search of direction
than by an 'encyclopaedic drive' present in such records as The Beatles,
for instance.
That said, it's not half bad; taken individually, most of the songs might
seem a bit pale when compared to the peak records of both earlier Tyrannosaurus
Rex and later T. Rex, but as a whole it's still darn impressive, and I
would easily recommend this album as a starting point for those who are
curious about Marc - then one could follow the preferred direction, either
backwards into the fairy tale kingdom or forward into the realm of weird
rock'n'roll. It's just that I happened to hear T. Rex after I'd
already heard all the other albums, so I wasn't that impressed.
But it's still worthy of an eight.
It does feature a few rightful T. Rex classics, though. No, I'm not counting
'The Children Of Rarn', two equal short versions of which bookmark the
record, because it's just a short atmospheric piece ending in a stupid
'Oooommmmm'. What I certainly do mean is 'Jewel', a blues rocker
of unprecedented intensity and power that neatly burns the house down from
the very beginning; even so, the version recorded here is pale and feeble
when compared to the truly stunning ultra-distorted chaotic thunderstorms
Marc used to produce when using the number as a warm-up at the Electric
Warrior rehearsals (see further on it below). Actually, it is a fine
'transition piece' from that furious solo that ends 'Elemental Child' on
the previous record, showing us that the legacy lives on.
Other highlights on here include the poppy, slightly vaudeville-like 'Beltane
Walk' with its funny naggin' chorus ('give us love give us little love...
give us little love from your hearts...'); the mystical, atmospheric 'Seagull
Woman' that sounds like a superior Unicorn outtake; and yeah, that
closing epic I've already noted above. You may not believe me, but 'Wizard'
is a real gas, and unlike the other mantraic endings to Bolan's records,
which were annoying chiefly because of utter repetitiveness, it actually
goes through several different pieces and features quite a few special
gimmicks; besides, it rocks, a thing which certainly couyldn't be said
about 'Romany Soup'. It's perhaps the best example of Bolan completely
engrossing himself in dadaist absurdities, because, while the general lyrics
are certainly Tolkien-inspired, I tend to perceive it as a parody and just
a piece of silly goofiness rather than a piece of pretentious mystical
tripe. And when Bolan and Mickey start chanting that endless 'he was a
wizard and he was a friend of mine he was he was a wizard and he was a
friend of mine he was...', I can't help but laugh. What a perfect antidote
for all the Uriah Heep lovers in this world.
The other songs are... well, they're okay even at the worst. It's easy
to get a kick from the hilarious 'rockers' 'Is It Love?' and particularly
Bolan's re-make of 'One Inch Rock', especially with the corny intro where
Marc imitates a whole pack of guitars with several vocal overdubs. The
poppier ballads are pretty and pleasant, with 'The Time Of Love Is Now'
as a main highlight; 'The Visit' is also fairly memorable, with the wonderful
'truly I do love you' refrain that would immediately appeal to any female
follower of Mr Bolan. And the more mystical stuff mostly works, too; check
out 'Diamond Meadows', for instance, that starts with a fairly menacing
distorted electric guitar line but then goes into that strange sappy orchestration
that's supposed to take you away to Lothlorien or somewhere.
Anyway, see, while I probably could ramble much longer about all the interesting
details in these songs (and the budget for the recordings was obviously
bigger this time, so Marc was able to try out far more studio tricks than
before), I'm just not all that tempted to go into details here, because
I already went into details over songs that were written previously and
were better, with a sharper edge. I would certainly never go as far as
to proclaim this one of the greatest Bolan albums (as W. Lawson, who actually
sent in his review before I wrote mine, does below); but like I said, its
main strength lies in combining the aspects of both Tyrannosaurus Rex and
T. Rex, so Bolan fans should definitely not overlook it.
Is it love if you don't mail your ideas?
Your worthy comments:
William Lawson <laws1908@students.sou.edu> (17.05.2000)
So essential a link in the development of Marc Bolan's song writing,
it's nothing less than amazing that this album often gets overlooked. Nonetheless,
it stands as one of T. Rex's greatest records. A damned good, if obscure,
T. Rex album, Bolan's decision to shorten the name of his band from Tyrannosaurus
Rex to T. Rex here was a logical step, considering the transition his sound
takes on this album from charming "hippie crap" to rock'n'roll.
But it had the unfortunate side effect of convincing some people Bolan
himself was T. Rex. (He was, but not in that way. But then, maybe that's
what he had in mind all along.) Oh, well: It's a great album anyway, and
probably the easiest place to find a recording of 'The Wizzard', here called
'The Wizard'. Like 'Romany Soup' on Unicorn, 'The Wizard' depends
on repetition for its hypnosis, repeating the line "He was a wizard
and he was my friend he was" incessantly. But it does rock out in
fine fashion, and aside for being a little "regressive", in that
it's a new version of an old song (Bolan's would occasionally rework an
old tune, as he later did with 'Children of Rarn') it is a definite move
toward the harder rocking sound of Electric Warrior, and so makes
an indispensable link between A Beard of Stars and Bolan's later
material.
This album has, not one, but two copys of 'The Children of Rarn' on it;
opening and closing the album, and while I don't hate it, it's far from
the best tune on the album (maybe that's why Bolan re-did it). Beside the
tracks mentioned above, this album also includes 'One Inch Rock', 'Seagull
Woman', 'Beltane Walk' and Bolan's siminal metal tune, 'Jewel', which apparently
Bolan saw as a model for his later efforts, 'cause he was still using it
as a "warm up" durring the the Electric Warrior Sessions. I can't
overemphasize how important this album is, simply in terms of song writing.
By the way, the American version of this record included the British hit
single, 'Is It Love', not on the British version. But because of the rapidly
diverging tastes of the British and American music markets, neither it,
nor this album made much of a dent in the U.S. This problem was overcome
with 'Get it On (Bang a Gong)' on the next album.
P.S. Sorry. It was "Ride a White Swan," not "Is It Love."
Interestingly enough, both songs were included on later releases of
A Beard of Stars as a bonus single, on Blue Thumb Records, but were
on included on the Reprise Records lp. Apparently Reprise had enough faith
in the single's future salability, based on its British success, that they
bought it from Blue Thumb to include on the T. Rex lp. Either that,
or they assumed the rights to it, as Bolan's latest single, when he signed
onto Reprise.
Year Of Release: 1997
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
These guys actually rocked more in the working process, you know.
That's what makes all these documents so much fun.
Best song: JEWEL
This is a relatively new archive release, and conceptually it's structured
differently from the 'alternative' series of Bolan's 1972-76 albums (please
see below for a more detailed explanation of the Bolan re-issues): rather
than simply presenting a set of demos and raw alternate takes, Electric
Warrior Sessions work as something of an audio documentary, in fact,
a video accompaniment of this stuff would be very much desirable. Of course,
it's mostly music; but it's mixed with studio chat, false starts and false
endings, tape rewinds, and all kinds of 'outside happenings' going on.
Also noteworthy is the fact that the album comes in two editions; as far
as I understand, there is a 2-CD set that includes a couple more alternate
takes plus a lengthy interview with Bolan at the time of the actual recording.
But the 1-CD edition is probably preferrable unless you're a complete diehard.
I mean, this album is really recommendable even for non-diehards.
It is widely acknowledged that T. Rex never spent too much time polishing
the material, preferring to leave it as raw and visceral as possible, which
is why the punks actually dug them. Mildly speaking, this does not reflect
the entire truth that there is. A lot of the work was done by Tony Visconti,
inherited by T. Rex as a producer from the Tyrannosaurus Rex stage, and
Tony certainly did the job well. Phasing, twenty types of echoes, orchestration,
wall-of-sound (when needed), backup vocals... all these things were pretty
good in their places, and I certainly do not blame either Tony or Marc
for classy arrangements that really fit the songs. But all of these things
also overshadowed the essence of the band's sound, Marc's screeching guitars.
And Marc really plays that thing well; no further proof is needed than
the schizoid thunderstorm at the end of 'Elemental Child' in Beard Of
Stars. But if you really want to s-s-s-mack that sound with gusto,
the regular studio versions won't help, and this is where session work
and live recordings come in. While the finished T. Rex product is certainly
'glam-rock' by definition, given the glam coat by Tony, session recordings
are certainly nothing but prime, unadulterated rock'n'roll, with not even
an ounce of glam thrown in. Unless, of course, you prefer to judge Marc's
lyrics as 'glam'. But that would be premature.
To tell the truth, there are overdubbed versions on this disc. But
not much. The album opens with a version of the classic 'Get It On' that's
nearly similar to the finished product, with pianos and Ian McDonald's
saxophone; however, the version is uncut and lasts all of six minutes which
will allow you to dig that enthralling, hypnotizing rhythm for what it's
worth. And, to complete the cycle, the album also ends with 'Get
It On', this time with just the unpolished rhythm track - Steve Currie
bending the bass, Bill Legend bashing on the drums and Marc just tearing
away at those strings. Sometimes I really can't understand how that guy
can be so intoxicating. After all, it's just basic rock'n'roll, isn't it?
A simplistic rock'n'roll rhythm that hearkens more to Elvis than to 'futuristic
rock' of which Marc was so many times incorrectly hailed as the main hero.
But somehow this simplistic rock'n'roll rhythm manages to capture the very
heart of rock'n'roll, in a way that no other artist could recapture ever
since.
And a good thing it is that Sessions mainly concentrate on Marc's
rocking, rather than the balladeering, side. The album includes just two
ballads, including a simple acoustic take on 'Life's A Gas', and it's so
loose, uncertain and sloppy that it just ain't all that interesting; you
gotta look to the regular version to truly understand the song's charm.
'Cosmic Dancer' is better, but the sound quality on that particular track
is below average. Finally, the two versions of 'Monolith' tend to drag,
with a sparse guitar sound and no true melody worked out yet.
Everything else rules... definitely. It's hilarious and intriguing, for
instance, to follow the band in their desperate attempt to record 'Honey
Don't', with take after take and Marc still not knowing what exactly it
is he wants to sing. Good thing they never put it on an official album,
as it would still have been forever overshadowed by the Beatles' version;
but digging this out of the archives posthumously was a brilliant move
all the same. You just gotta hear Marc wailing his way through lines like
'I love the way you wear your selfish clothes...' Likewise, the version
of 'Summertime Blues', while nowhere near as powerful and overwhelming
as the way the Who used to do it, is more homely and accessible - you can
groove to it with just as much fun as the Who's version, but without the
mandatory reverence and awe that really separates Townshend and company
from the audience.
'Woodland Rock', an obscure single B-side that combines the idea of Beard
Of Stars' 'Woodland Bop' with a melody stolen from Chuck Berry's 'Too
Much Monkey Business', is also here and it also rules. 'Jeepster' shakes
the house down. 'Baby Strange', which didn't make it onto the final album
but ended up on The Slider, grooves. And 'Jewel'... wow. 'Jewel'
was initially recorded for T. Rex a year before, and this version
was probably intended just as a warm-up for the band, but oh my God, what
a warm-up. Marc throttles his wah-wahed six-string as if the universe depends
on it, brewing up a primal storm that would make the Stooges really proud
of the man. Which again brings me to the point - Bolan is tremendously
underrated as a guitar player. He may not have been a virtuoso, but he
had enough drive and authenticity in his playing for ten 'standard' players.
And what about a conclusion? This is far more than a document, it's just
a solid block of visceral, powerful, inspired rock'n'roll. The endless
false endings might bug you, but give it a chance all the same. Heavily
recommended for anybody who is willing to give Bolan a chance to prove
that he ain't just a slick glam puppet, but is a genuine, professional
and inspired rock'n'rollah. And don't forget the funny liner notes by drummer
Bill Legend, who keeps forgetting whatever had happened at the time of
the actual recordings but pretends that he remembers everything.
Get it on, mail
your ideas
ELECTRIC
WARRIOR
Year Of Release: 1971
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12
Transition effectuated. Fresh and funny Seventies rock'n'roll with
an edge - but ot-nay oot-ay iverse-day, if you get my drift.
Best song: BANG A GONG (GET IT ON)
The first true "new look" T. Rex record that propelled Bolan
into mega-stardom, and a record that's universally acclaimed as one of
the sacred pinnacles of glam rock, together with stuff like Ziggy Stardust
(with Bowie borrowing quite a lot from Bolan) and all those New York Dolls
records. However, in the general context of Bolan's work, not in the context
of the glam-rock movement, Electric Warrior can hardly stand out
as the man's finest hour. Melodically, it certainly isn't as strong as
some of Marc's earlier 'hippie crap' albums, most notably Unicorn;
and one of the major accusations one could hang on it is that it completely
lacks diversity, something which would be corrected two years later with
the superior Tanx. Indeed, all the songs on here fall into two rather
sterile patterns - funky, eminently danceable rockers and musically primitive
atmospheric ballads, with the rare exceptions like 'Lean Woman Blues' actually
being the weakest cuts on the whole record. For all means, it would be
wiser to consider Electric Warrior Bolan's solid, but unspectacular
'first try' at making a true rock record.
'Unspectacular' doesn't mean 'unclassic', of course. After all, Bolan wasn't
just a Kiss-type talentless wanker; with previous albums, he proved himself
to be one of the most inventive music-writers and performers of his generation,
and on Electric Warrior, he is in great form, showing us what a
really talented person could do to 'modernize' and diversify the classic
boogie formula. What I mean primarily is the sound of this record
- it may look a little trite in our time, but by the standards of 1971,
that sound was truly revolutionary, and came to define glam-rock as it
were. Yeah, rockers like 'Mambo Sun', 'Planet Queen' (these two are basically
the same song), 'Bang A Gong', 'The Motivator' (these two are basically
the same song too), 'Jeepster', etc., are completely generic and
derivative if stripped to the bare melodies which never advance beyond
anything written in the Fifties. But the way they're done is great.
Bolan adds a lot of things here: you can hear horns, keyboards, Tony Visconti's
orchestration layers, backing vocals, special echo and phasing effects
all over the place, and at the same time all of these things are used so
effectively that the record never really sounds overproduced, as one could
complain about a Phil Spector produced album. On top of that he lays down
his own shakey vocals singing weird meaningless wordgames, and so manages
to redefine rock'n'roll as it had never been defined previously. Does it
still rock? It certainly does, because the basics - speed, fury, distorted
electric guitar playing Chuck Berry-esque licks - are carefully preserved.
What it does not do is communicate any 'message' to the listener:
the "actuality" has been sucked out of the thing completely.
But does it matter? Not exactly, as rock'n'roll, in Bolan's understanding,
is bound to communicate fun, not anger or rebellion. And can we
blame him for such an attitude? Probably not. Electric Warrior is
a lot of fun indeed, and that's all I want to know about it.
'Bang A Gong (Get It On)' was the big hit here, and just about the only
trace that Bolan happened to leave after him in the US of A: a shame, since
he's written a lot of better songs and judging him exclusively by 'Bang
A Gong' is like judging the Rolling Stones exclusively by 'Paint It Black'
or 'You Can't Always Get What You Want'. Still, it's an excellent song,
with simplicity triumphing over complexity in a nearly grotesque way -
can anybody explain why such a primitive song is so unbelievably catchy
in its moodiness? Give it a try. The boppy 'Mambo Sun' is equally catchy,
and 'Jeepster', one of the fastest tracks on here, manages to sound rawer
than any given Chuck Berry rocker even with all the overdubs.
The ballads reek more of Mark's personal identity, and while you can almost
feel most of them being aimed at charming Marc's upcoming hordes of female
underage fans (I can almost imagine all the girls going woooooh when he
sang the 'I could have loved you girl like a planet, I could have chained
your heart to a star' lines in 'Life's A Gas' - never mind that the song
goes on like 'I could have turned you into a priestess, I could have burned
your fate in the sand'), they are still all saved by his silky magical
intonations and a stripped-down, intimate approach; kudos to Marc, in fact,
for not drowning them out in seas of sappy orchestration or pathetic power
chords. 'Life's A Gas' is indeed the most memorable of these ballads, with
a marvelous 'ah!... life's a gas...' placed in the refrain, but 'Girl'
is very good too, with its weird whiny lamentation, and 'Cosmic Dancer'
is a deeply moving tale of, well, a cosmic dancer.
A couple of the songs do nothing for me, like the weak blues parody 'Lean
Woman Blues', and, well, 'Planet Queen' does sound a bit too similar
to 'Mambo Sun', but overall, these are very weak complaints - there truly
ain't a bad song anywhere. And Marc tops it all with 'Rip Off', a spiteful
piece of hard-rocking that's gotta rank among his most pissed-off work.
Not quite clear what the lyrics are hinting at - my hypothesis is that
the vile refrain 'It's a rip-off, such a rip-off', serves as a kind of
self-humiliation and self-debasement and a hint at the fakery of Marc's
glammy image, but this hypothesis is certainly not the only one possible.
In any case, I love the amount of energy displayed in the song.
All said, Electric Warrior has certainly been overrated through
the years - but only in the sense that most people take this album as standing
six feet above the rest of Bolan's work. I certainly don't begrudge you
giving in to the hype and making this your first T. Rex purchase, but keep
in mind: if you like it, there's far more to be found in the Bolan catalog,
and some of it is even better. Not the following album, though.
Get it on, mail
your ideas
THE
SLIDER
Year Of Release: 1972
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
Not bad, but Bolan's really playing on our lowest common senses here.
Catchy but dumb.
Best song: THE SLIDER
Eeh... I mean, your general reaction is similar to the reaction that
the general public had towards T. Rex in general: The Slider is
tremendous fun first time around, gets kinda boring third time around,
becomes absolutely unbearable fifth time around and finally makes acceptable
background music for your average headbanging party ever after. Yup, I
know the All-Music Guide gave it a 'best-of-genre' rating (five out of
five stars, that is), but that only confirms my theory that the AMG reviewers
never listen to any record more than once - on my first listen, I would
have done likewise.
And for good reason, as there ain't a single bad song on the album. It's
another problem that there ain't a single song here that was really written
by Bolan - by this time, he'd given up on writing melodies entirely, and
all the thirteen numbers on here, with just a couple exceptions, are simply
recycled boogie-woogie standards (if they rock) or recycled doo-wop standards
(if they don't). Given the proper T-Rex treatment - swooping orchestration,
Marc's psycho vocals, blazing lead guitar and Dylanish nonsensical lyrics
- the album is surprisingly effective, if you prefer not to think about
it, just give in to that rock'n'roll feeling, ya know? Jes' put on your
trusty cylinder and slide on!
Actually, the biggest problem of the record is that after each and every
listen the songs just stick together in a thick, slippery goo, and it's
a real pain in the butt to 'disglue' the material from one monolithic boogie
ball. It's even harder to actually review this record, you know. But I'll
try. The hits were the two singles - 'Metal Guru' and 'Telegram Sam', and
both are solid, respectable rockers, especially the first one, which opens
the record on a crazy carnivalesque note: the band lets rip with that great
sing-along melody just destined to have the chicks bombard you with
underpants, although the lyrics? 'Metal guru is it you, sitting there in
your armour plated chair?' What the hell? Oh, it's Marc Bolan we're speaking
of, sorry, kinda forgot about that behind all the glam. Meanwhile, 'Telegram
Sam' chugs along like a cute little choo-choo train with lyrics that are
even harder to understand, but who needs real understanding when it feels
so groovy when you embrace that refrain - 'telegram Sam you're my main
maaaaan'. Once again, Bolan catches you up the hook and refuses to let
you go, even if you really feel uncomfortable on that hook which lets all
your intimate parts show through.
Personally, I would place my bets not here, but on track number four that
happens to be the title track (yeah, I do feel stupid about the
refrain to 'Telegram Sam'). But I adore 'The Slider', so sue me. It's a
steady-paced mid-tempo rocker based on a lazy, monotonous, but compact
gruff riff and features what might be Bolan's best vocal performance on
here, as he keeps invading our privacy with his weird imagery and ending
each verse with a contemplative, melancholic '...and when I'm sad... I
slide'. For some strange reason, this song feels very much at home with
me: maybe I slide, too, when I'm sad, but just don't notice it? I'm gonna
watch myself in the future... anyway, the orchestration on here is a rather
nice touch as well, but the backup vocals are cheesy. Solid cheese.
Out of the ballads, the ones that come to my mind are 'Mystic Lady' and...
err... 'Ballrooms Of Mars', probably. 'Mystic Lady' is my favourite on
here because it comes on first and all the others really just repeat it,
both atmosphere-wise and melody-wise. In other words, if you've heard one,
you've heard them all. But 'Mystic Lady' is still better than the rest,
as it has that touch of genuine tenderness and emotion that's so lacking
in Bolan's work in general. I still can't make out the line 'Oh Bobby you're
hobby with the learned ones', though; usually I simply don't pay attention
to such things, but this particular thing annoys me since I'd like the
song to be a proper love ballad and it's not. Guess I'll just have to take
it as it comes.
As for 'Ballrooms Of Mars', that one's mostly impressive in the ways of
the lyrics, with its references to Bob Dylan and John Lennon. The big problem
is why Marc had to repeat the entire set of lyrics twice, when he's usually
such a prolific lyricist. He even screams 'ROCK!' for the two obligatory
'cathartic' guitar solos - two times, and in exactly the same intonation.
Kills all the live feeling, you know. Likewise, the bombastic album closer
- 'Main Man' - has a lovely refrain, but one needn't really repeat it for
three or four times in a row. How would you feel if somebody kept asking
you the question 'Are you my main man? Are you my main man? Are you? Are
you?' for several minutes without a break?
But never mind, people! Rejoyce! Keep sliding! And if you haven't had enough,
the CD re-issue includes three obscure B-sides, which (surprise surprise)
sound exactly like about half of the other songs on here. In all,
The Slider perfectly illustrates all the sides of this 'classic'
stage of Bolan's career, both good and bad: it's a total gas when you just
want to have a little fun, but it shows just how low a person can fall
when he only goes for the fun and the chicks and forgets that music has
to be, well, diverse. I doubt that it'll go down really well in
history, but I wouldn't want it to really go down, either. Marc
is such a nice guy, and that cylinder fits him to a tee. And if you pay
a little attention to the credits, you'll see that the photo was actually
taken by none other than Mr Ringo Starr himself!
Metal guru, is
it you? Mail your ideas!
LEFT
HAND LUKE: THE ALTERNATE TANX
Year Of Release: 1995
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
For those who love their Bolan stripped down, here's a great album
completely stripped down! Oh, these crazyass record companies.
Best song: LEFT HAND LUKE
After Hendrix, Marc Bolan is probably the most overreleased artist in
the rock industry, dead or alive. The amount of posthumous releases for
T. Rex has already three or four times exceeded the number of the original
band LPs, and new live records from the vaults are still cropping up from
time to time. The real avalanche, though, didn't start until the
early Nineties, when the albums started being remastered and retransferred
on to CDs. In the process, the record companies have discovered tons of
previously unissued material, enough to fill up at least a couple dozen
laser discs to the brim - and they bravely went ahead and released it all.
I'm not joking. Ever took a peek at the T. Rex Unchained series?
Eight seventy-minute CDs containing outtakes and stuff, and all
of them official. And that's just the beginning. Probably thinking that
the fans' pockets were limitless, the company that has the rights to the
entire T. Rex catalog from The Slider and further on has accompanied
each of T. Rex's five original albums from 1972-76 with an 'alternate'
edition, usually titled after a certain song off the respective album -
consisting of 'rough studio mixes' and acoustic and electric demo versions
from the respective session. The most amazing thing about that is that,
judging at least by the 'alternate' stuff in my possession, it's quite
listenable - and comparable to the final product. So if you ever made a
foolish vow to become a T. Rex completist (well, after all, it's hardly
worse than being a Grateful Dead or a Deep Purple completist), you'll at
least find consolation in the fact that Left Hand Luke can easily
act as a suitable substitute for Tanx when you get tired of the
original. (BTW, the strange peculiarities of the Russian market have caused
this album to actually precede the release of Tanx itself - which
explains the fact that this review was actually written before the
review of Tanx itself. So I'm gonna pretend that this is the real
thing! I'm an illusionist! At least, I pretended I was one...)
Left Hand Luke is, obviously, what it says itself to be - an 'alternate'
version of Tanx, with just a couple of songs missing (for some odd
reason, the recording guys haven't found a suitable demo of 'Shock Rock'
or 'Electric Slim And The Factory Hen') and no 'new' material - just 'rough
studio mixes' of the album's material, plus some 'acoustic and bass demos'
and simply 'acoustic demos' of same songs. This is certainly excessive
- three different versions of 'The Street And Babe Shadow' or 'Broken Hearted
Blues' can certainly seem a bit over the top if you wish to just listen
to the record for enjoyment, but what the heck, the record was initially
intended for serious fans anyway. And if we just concentrate on the rough
mixes, it all comes back to make good sense - I've always liked my Bolan
stripped down and just pounding away without the silly orchestration or
annoying space-effect-laiden background vocals, as his main forte, whatever
one says, still lies in (a) the magnificent singing voice, (b) the witty
lyrics and (c) the derivative, but irresistible, catchy melodies; all the
three are well evident on these demo versions and not overshadowed by anything
else.
Tanx showed Bolan recapturing the 'immaculate' form after the relatively
so-so glam posturings of Slider: the record is at the same time
more compact, more diverse, more up-to-the-point and more personal than
its predecessor. The fact that Bolan was really deep into the making of
the record and planning it as a personal experience becomes obvious when
you consider the early acoustic demos of 'The Street And The Babe Shadow'.
The 'acoustic demo' is feeble and plaintive, with Bolan's 'babe, I do mean
babe' obviously pointing at some deep and unclear disturbances within his,
hrm, poetic soul; then, the 'bass and acoustic' demo is far more powerful
and driving, with the 'babe I do mean babe' refrain acquiring a certain
desperate and even aggressive flavour; and, finally, the 'rough studio
mix' completely eschews all the 'complaintive' elements in favour of just
a slight melancholic note in this, by now rather conventional, rocker.
In other words, when one really thinks deeper, it's obvious that the glam
schtick was a heavy burden on Bolan - marring his true personality. Likewise,
it's easy to see how much 'Broken Hearted Blues' has lost in its transfer
from an acoustic to an electricized (not really electric, as the main instrument
in the rough studio mix is still an acoustic guitar) setting: the unearthly
tenderness and sweetness seems to have evaporated, replaced by a somewhat
less captivating spacey overtone.
Even so, nothing can really spoil the songs to the point of unlistenability
- Tanx has only got maybe one or two duffers over its duration.
It's hardly possible to forget both the album's opening and closing numbers,
for instance: 'Tenement Lady' is definitely in the top three or four greatest
Bolan rockers ever, with an amazing drive and a simple, instantaneously
memorable and completely original melody - the funny thing is, when it
suddenly transforms into the gentle ballad 'Darling', it hardly becomes
any worse (and the rough studio mix, with its emphasis on the soothing
piano, is awesome - far more intimate and heart-warming than, say, 'Mystic
Lady' could ever hope to be). And what's with that powerful singing on
'Left Hand Luke (And The Beggar Boys)'? Now that's one tune whose rough
studio mix certainly prevails over the acoustic demo - what was originally
a one-chord shabby ditty with the vocals double-tracked for no special
reason, becomes a mighty soulful epic, almost genuinely gospel in its sway:
the perfect proof that Marc Bolan was a lot, lot more than just your average
teenage girl idol if you ever needed one.
Plus, the band really shines on these demos: as usual, when Marc is stripped-down,
his trusty backups demonstrate some of the best boogie-woogie chops in
Britain without having them overshadowed by violins or brass, which is
why the rough studio mix of 'Born To Boogie' will get you up your feet
and send you rocking across the room in no time; outtake or no outtake,
the guitar work on the track is near stellar (of course, it's the classic
rockabilly chops I'm speaking of, not Hendrix or Clapton), and 'Country
Honey' is no slouch either.
I won't really engage in a serious discussion of the other tracks off the
album, as most of them will be dealt with below in the actual Tanx review;
but I'll just take the time to say that, for certain fans, Left Hand
Luke might be even a better offer than Tanx itself. Sure, it
doesn't feature all the songs, and some, like 'Rapids', come in shortened
versions; and the bonus tracks are not as numerous as they are on the regular
release, not to mention that the version of the marvelous 'Children Of
The Revolution' captured on here is just one minute long. But the raw feel
of these mixes is amazing - the tunes are breathing, not being butchered
by the obligatory 'shiny glam' production, and I, for one, am pleased,
as I never considered that kind of production to be the best thing possible.
Beatles demos are usually dismissable, as these guys were always sure to
find the best way to produce their songs; but Bolan demos are always acceptable
- remember that Bolan started out as an acoustic performer, after all.
Limited instrumentation is the water for the Marc fishie to go swimming
in!
Life is strange, but
mail your ideas anyway
TANX
Year Of Release: 1973
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12
T. Rex getting diverse - getting prancier, bouncier, more meditative,
more soulful and, well, more dangerous. Just look at that cover.
Best song: TENEMENT LADY
All rightey, so here's the final product, after all - arguably Bolan's
finest hour in the studio (of the T. Rex period, I mean). While novices
always drool over Electric Warrior, seasoned T. Rexers prefer to
get their money's worth out of this one, and for a good reason. Reason
that, unfortunately, doesn't include the album's cover, probably Marc's
ugliest ever. Not only does he look like Alice Cooper on here (apparently,
only Ringo Starr had good taste when it came around to taking snapshots
of Mr Bolan), but the fact that he was actually 'riding a tank' with the
gun sticking out from between his legs caused many a mother to faint (and
many a teenage girl to wet her panties, I suppose, but I don't really discuss
music in those terms, now do I?) Now how does this really fit in
with the famous statement 'If you know how to rock, then you don't have
to shock', pronounced in 'Shock Rock', that people always take as Marc's
obvious condemnation of glam values? I suppose that line has to be taken
really tongue-in-cheek, then; after all, this would be hypocrisy, plain
and simple.
Okay, forget the cover - it's really quite deceptive, separating us from
a potload of great, totally devastating pop melodies and an equal potload
of various lyrical, conceptual, production and arrangement ideas. In retrospect,
Tanx can be deemed a transitional album in between the early reckless
glam epoch and the latter funky days of T. Rex, and it's a superb transitional
album, kinda like Bowie's Station To Station: a record where the
artist is able to take the best essence of his past period and marry it
to the best essence of his newer incarnation. Unfortunately, Bolan's 1974-75
funk period never managed to be as interesting or innovative as Bowie's
Berlin period that followed Station; but in 1973 Marc was still
huge - yeah, both critically, commercially and artistically, and
this minor masterpiece ably proves it.
What makes it stand out, especially after the semi-stagnation of Slider?
Diversity and inventiveness. Lyrically, Bolan is at an all-time high: no
matter how nonsensical his lines are, they are always fascinating, and
it's perhaps most intriguing to seek out the brief snippets of deep confessional
statements in among all the 'chaff' of Marc's incessant head-spinning wordplay.
One second he's singing about electric slim and factory hens, and the next
second it's something like 'O god, life is good/ Some are fat and some
are thin/Some don't even ask you how you've been'. Or: "Your mama
said, 'clean out your head boy, don't lay nothing on my child'/Your friends
they said, 'Your head's in a noose boy lay some boogie on our minds'/And
we stood like the rapids and I was like a new born child". Also, while
the first signs of Marc's tendency to seriously Americanize his music are
seen - he drags in female gospel choruses and Gloria Jones makes her first
appearance, as well (although she would be far more prominent on subsequent
releases) - he relies far less on backing vocals than he did on Slider.
His vocals are always audible and form the centerpoint of every song -
and this gives Tanx an intimate and highly personal, delicately
soulful feel that Slider managed to miss.
Of course, it's not just the vocals: it's mainly the melodies that cut
the mustard on here. In order to trace them back to their roots and appreciate
the very chords, one must, of course, go back to Left Hand Luke,
as the original release had been given the regular Tony Visconti treatment:
however, it is not all that distracting, because he was mainly busy complementing
the tunes with swooping orchestration and placing the backup vocals in
their rightful places. So I would still rate Tanx ahead of its stripped-down
demo partner, if only because the latter doesn't have the above-mentioned
'Shock Rock' and the passionate, dreamy ballad 'Electric Slim And The Factory
Hen' which is quite unlike any other T. Rex product and could, in fact,
easily be stylistically qualified as a Tyrannosaurus Rex outtake or, at
least, as a 'nostalgic throwback' to that epoch - nonsensic and trivial
on the surface, mystical and romantic when you dig deeper. Also, the violins
and brass section don't really hinder the tunes: it's not as easy or enticing
to boogie along with this stuff, but if you're too busy to play air guitars
when you're listening to this, you might as well not really notice.
As for the other songs - well, I tip my hat to Mr Bolan and I'll just say
that the variety of styles and moods on here really astounds me. The moods
often shift within a single song: I have already mentioned the shift from
killer rocker to killer ballad in 'Tenement Lady/Darling', and while 'The
Street And Babe Shadow' began its life as a plaintive, moving ballad, the
final product features a sharp contrast between the upbeat, bouncy melody
and the desperate intonation in the vocals.
But the 'monolithic' tunes are just as good. 'Left Hand Luke' is turned
into a powerful, bombastic gospel epic (although I actually prefer the
stripped-down version, as the backing vocals tend to get obnoxious, and
at five minutes, the song makes a sharp contrast with the rest of the album
whose tunes almost never go beyond three minutes - hey, what an
atrocious thing for 1973). The rockers are driving, crisp and sound totally
fresh and lovable even today - 'Rapids' grooves along with a terrific dry
guitar sound, and 'Born To Boogie' is, well, fully deserving of its title.
The 'direct pop' songs are ecstatic; I don't know how it would be possible
for somebody to resist the charms of 'Mister Mister', with its 'Tumbling
Dice'-style groove and these delicious 'de-de-bom-bom de-de-bom-bom' chants
propelling the groove to even further heights, and 'Highway Knees' has
some romantic French influences about it, albeit linked with Bolan's instinctive
talents for a solid hook. And the ballads are tear-inducing: 'Life Is Strange'
and 'Broken-Hearted Blues' are among Marc's best tunes ever.
Aye, the only reason I'm not giving this a ten is... wait, no particular
reason. I probably should give this a ten, except that I just feel
kinda shy about handing out a ten for one of Marc's 'trashy' albums, heh,
heh. After all, Tanx is glam-rock, isn't it? You can't get away
from the fact. There's no use in denying these melodies' greatness - try
it and you'll embarrass yourself in no time - but there's also no use in
denying that, unfortunately, at least half of this stuff is destined to
please Marc's teenage audience. No further proof is needed than the intro
to 'Mad Donna' - where a little girl, for no apparent reason, announces
in French: 'Donna La Folle, Par T. Rex'. 'Aw, beautiful', chuckles Marc,
and they launch into the song. Okay, count me out of the groove, and let's
punish him a little for that goddamn album cover, too. But on a good, sunny
day when I'm in a particularly forgivable mood, slip in a ten and I'll
close my eyes on it.
Especially if you mention those cute bonus tracks, too - 'Children Of The
Revolution' is Marc's violin masterpiece (again, going through a magnificent
shift of moods - from teenage angst hard rock menace to a slicy slicky
pop chorus), 'Solid Gold Easy Action' boogies along at a terrific pace,
well, at least it's faster than almost everything else on here, 'Xmas Message'
brings you some kind words from the glam master himself, and '20th Century
Boy' is possibly the heaviest number in the entire T. Rex catalog. When
I first heard that opening riff, I thought they accidentally put in a Black
Sabbath song there, or at least a Kiss one; but no, that was Marc singing,
and the riff proved out to be ingenious and memorable. Thumbs up, and kudos
to Marc for such a solid effort. Looks can be deceptive, too. Like tanks.
Tanks sure can be deceptive.
Mister mister, I'm
just waiting for you to mail your ideas
ZINC
ALLOY AND THE HIDDEN RIDERS OF TOMORROW
Year Of Release: 1974
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 9
What a funny thing - self-embarrassment mixed with pretention of
the highest degree. Catchiness is the only salvation here.
Best song: THE AVENGERS (SUPERBAD)
This and the following album are generally regarded as Bolan's weakest
efforts by fans and critics alike, and I certainly can't blame them. But
Zinc Alloy is at least notably better than Zip Gun, if only
because the melodies are a wee bit more elaborate and the lyrics are mostly
typical Bolan - in the fine traditions of the early fresh glam stuff. So,
while hardly any of the stuff on the album can be quoted as essential,
there's no reason to bypass the record completely as it's at least notably
different from Bolan's past achievements.
Yeah, Marc really wanted to change. I'm sometimes not really sure as to
whether it was his metamorphosis that led him to stagnation or it was the
stagnation that led him to a metamorphosis or it was the lack of commercial
success that led him to stagnation or whether it was his metamorphosis
that led him to the lack of commercial success... ah, shit. You get my
drift. The story goes that, on one hand, the success of Tanx a year
before was rather moderate, and by all accounts Bolan's popularity had
begun to wane already by then; on the other hand, Tanx seemed to
finally satisfy Bolan's ambitions for fame and fortune, and he was finally
willing to get around to modifying his style at the risk of losing some
popularity. (The man was probably smarter than supposed - he'd rationally
supposed that remaking the same record over and over again would finally
cease working for him some day or other).
He'd previously promised to the press that, once he'd got all the fame
he wanted, he would change the name of his band to Zinc Alloy and 'disappear'
from the pressures of success, and he did just that: the important trivia
fact is that 'Zinc Alloy And The Hidden Riders Of Tomorrow' was in fact
the name of the newly revamped T. Rex itself, while the album was simply
entitled 'A Creamed Cage In August'. If you glance at the current cover,
you'll see the name 'Marc Bolan And T. Rex' 'slapped' over the original
cover - that's because it wasn't present there originally. Of course, nobody
could mistake Saint Bolan in the photo, but hey, Marc didn't quite have
the notoriousness of Led Zeppelin in the world, so he couldn't allow himself
to pull off something like that band's Untitled.
Not that it helped, of course. Marc had a lot of ideas in his head at that
time. One was to 'grow some funk' - with female backing vocals, bouncy
dance rhythms, and hot, steamy guitar solos a la Sly and The Family
Stone, Zinc Alloy was certainly not your average boogie-woogie disc;
Marc was certainly ready to go ahead and woo over the States one more time.
Another idea was to conceptualize the music - the album was supposed to
be entitled 'Children Of Rar' originally and work as a rock opera. However,
fully conceptual albums weren't really Marc's schtick (he'd fail once again
with the idea two years later on Futuristic Dragon), and as a result
the opera was scrapped up. In the final end the album turned out to be
divided in two equally distant sides which I'd call the 'kid-pleasing'
and the 'serious looking' side. The first side thus consisted of a more
or less 'regular' set of numbers with accustomed titles like 'Explosive
Mouth' and 'Galaxy', while the second one contained disjointed excerpts
from the 'opera' with mind-blowing titles like 'Painless Persuasion V The
Meathawk Immaculate' and 'The Leopards Featuring Gardenia And The Mighty
Slug'; rumours have it that the project was very much inspired by Frank
Zappa, but I somehow tend to doubt it.
The main problem with the first side is that the melodies do not seem exceedingly
strong - in fact, let me just go ahead and say that many of them seem infuriatingly
weak. Funk is funk, and Bolan is Bolan; the two things really shouldn't
be messed up. And I'll also state that I actively dislike Gloria Jones,
the main presence on this (and the following) album after Marc himself:
a backup vocalist picked up by Marc because of her powerful vocal delivery
and ability to play certain instruments (she often played keyboards on
stage), she finally broke up his marriage with June Child and became Marc's
life-guide in way too many spheres. Her backing vocals are indeed powerful,
but when they are mixed with Marc's traditional bleating, the ensuing results
are shamefully banal: as if an ageing mysterious hippie star was trying
to be hip once again by diluting his musical approach with conventional,
recycled musical stylistics. I'd take those trusty ex-Turtles over Gloria
any time of day. And dammit, she's getting really obnoxious on some of
the tracks.
That said, the opening number, 'Venus Loon', is definitely a scream - if
funky Bolan's not really your style, it's the only Bolan funk you'll ever
need, with a powerful rhythm guitar, Bolan's crazy 'yeah yeah' echoing
all around the room, and a crazyass, catchy-to-the-point-of-insanity melody.
But after that thunderstorm, the sound gets kinda thin and monotonous -
if you ever got tired of the repetitiveness of The Slider, you'll
know what I'm talking about. The rest of the hooks turn out to be either
hoots or hoaxes, and on a couple of tracks Bolan actually gets into some
deep doo-doo: 'Galaxy' is plain horrendous, with a forced hard-rocking
verse structure alternating with a likewise forced 'soulful' sappy refrain
- 'your world, I mean your world' repeated for what seems like an eternity.
And the single 'Teenage Dream' again sounds like an inferior Slider
outtake - or like a campy solo Roger Waters performance, whichever you
like (or hate) the most. The lyrics are entertaining, but the excitement
is just not exactly there. Rockers like 'Sound Pit', 'Explosive Mouth'
and 'Nameless Wildness' have a seriously limited potential: not exactly
horrible, but Bolan is stretching the limits of our memories - nothing
on here is as instantly grabbing as the best stuff on Tanx. So,
apart from 'Venus Loon' and the fabulous personal ballad 'Change' that
has a slightly stripped down, depressing atmosphere about it and is about
the only thing on this side that one can somehow identify oneself with,
Side A is a complete disaster: not as obvious or smashing as Bolan's
Zip Gun, but 'no great shakes' would be a rather mild description here.
The second side is a different thing, though, and that's what makes me
really punch up the rating at least one point - almost two, in fact. There
are still some tasteless missteps here like the trademark cosmic rock throwaway
'Interstellar Soul', but generally the melodies are more involving, and
Marc's lyrical concepts are as entertaining as always: who would resist
the attraction of lines like 'Peter with the heater, he's such a messy
eater/He's got frogs in his eyes from telling those lies/Sunday's almost
Monday and you gotta understand/It's gonna be grand when you take the hand
of the liquid gang'? The 'concept' borders on unjustly pretentious, of
course, but Marc somehow manages to get it right by keeping his sense of
humour intact and spicing up the project with hooks and atmospheres we've
all come to know him by. 'Carsmile Smith & The Old One' is another
highlight on the second side, with some more 'gospelish' pretensions similar
to those displayed on 'Left Hand Luke'; but my favourite is the aggressive,
venomous 'The Avengers' with some of the most spiteful and menacing lyrics
Marc had ever written. Hey, what a pity it's impossible to understand who
he is really talking about. Ah, well, guess it doesn't matter. The song's
nearly ruined by Gloria Jones' obsessive 'dig this!' backing vocals, though.
Man, what was he really thinking about.
So, in general, as the album starts to peter out with the meaningless,
but strangely cute 'Leopards Featuring Gardenia & The Mighty Slug'
that reminds me of something from Bob Dylan's New Morning album
for no particular reason, you really begin to think that the album isn't
as horrible as it's often depicted. I'd even warrant that repeated listens
will bring it and its contents even more closer to the listener. The problem
is that Zinc Alloy was apparently a serious step down - not a tragic
one, but a significant one; and it was the first sign that Marc was finally
losing the battle to his long-time disciple, David Bowie, whose Diamond
Dogs came out the same year and clearly showed how far the disciple
had gotten ahead of the master. Zinc Alloy showed that Bolan had
indeed reached his peak and that he was virtually unable to progress any
further - even when he really tried, like on the second side; he could
still make pleasant music, but from now on everything would be rather predictable.
Until Dandy In The Underworld, of course.
You got to jive to stay alive,
you gotta mail your ideas, too
BOLAN'S
ZIP GUN
Year Of Release: 1975
Record rating = 5
Overall rating = 8
An all-time low - Marc recycles the glam formula for the n-th time,
but here he's sounding completely self-parodic.
Best song: THINK ZINC
Ouch, this is really bad. I mean, of course, Marc's complete devotion
to traditional rockabilly rhythms had never allowed him to release anything
truly disgusting, but Bolan's Zip Gun comes close. Even he himself
had to admit that this was his worst recording ever, and believe me, that's
no ordinary artist self-humiliation. Now I've always stated the point that,
whatever Marc was doing, it always extended several heads above the 'norms'
of glam-rock of the day. His tasteful and competent arrangements, weird
bleating voice and, of course, the Tolkien era-inherited lyrics simply
could not allow us to place Mr Bolan on the same level with Gary Glitter;
yes, he might have been the prototypic glam star, but he also set an incredibly
high plank that no-one else was really able to reach, let alone cross over
(except for Bowie, of course, but Bowie took glam as a 'meta-phenomenon'
and there was always some sort of tongue-in-cheekiness attitude in his
glam creativity).
Unfortunately, Zip Gun shatters Bolan's ideal - in fact, the album
as such is a deadly blow to T. Rex's reputation. On the surface, all the
ingredients are still there: the addition of Dino Dines does not do much
to augment or diversify the sound. Bolan is moving even further in the
direction of a 'professional' soul/R'n'B groove here, with occasional saxophone
parts and Bolan's by-now new wife Gloria Jones adding her usual powerful
backing vocals; in short, the 'new' elements and the fact that Bolan is
still able to churn out a catchy melody on occasion couldn't predict such
a catastrophe.
But you won't believe me when I say how unbelievably corny this
record is. Zip Gun is, actually, a typical glam rock record - not
just disposable and trashy, but, this time, completely forgettable. First
of all, it's the lyrics. In one word - they blow. Yeah, Bolan has never
been a hero of lengthy epics - his lyrics were always compact and short,
and often repetitive, but at least they were often fascinating and not
necessarily depending on the 'come on girl be my star tonight' thematics.
And here? Selected quotes: 'Oh light of love, won't you shine on me, won't
you shine on me, light of love'; 'oh baby who's the solid baby who's gonna
love me tonight'; 'ooh like a precious star you are, ooh like a precious
star you are, I wanna spend my life with you'; 'golden eyes on a sunset
lawn make me feel so glad to be born, broken pages on the edge of night
make me want to squeeze you tight till dawn, till dawn', etc., etc. Keep
in mind that all of these lines are taken from different songs, and such
is the case that most of them represent the entire lyrics of any selected
song... and if there are any other lines they sound the same.
It's almost as if Bolan was so intent on recapturing the glam craze that
has finally escaped him that he was willing to sacrifice any artistic
integrity that still remained in him and become a complete sell-out. He
didn't succeed, of course: either the public tastes were slowly regenerating,
or Bolan's non-disco sound was rapidly becoming obsolete, but Zip Gun
sold quite miserably, and I don't regret the fact.
That said, I must admit that there ain't a single tune on here I'd call
blatantly bad. Actually, the album is quite the equivalent of Slider,
if you wish, only with uniformly stupid and blatantly generic lyrics and
fewer distinguishable melodies. Nevertheless, most of the material is of
a sing-along character, and, like Slider, this could be an excellent
record to put on at a party if your tastes are slightly above Phil Collins.
If you can get past such annoying gimmicks as irritatingly repetitive lines
('Space Boss' is horrendous in that respect - I don't see how it can be
so funny to keep chanting 'are you are you are you are you the space boss?'
ad nauseam, especially if the same stupid gimmick had already been used
to similar effect in 'Main Man'), feel even free to add one more point.
'Light Of Love', 'Precious Star' and 'Token Of My Love' are quite catchy
- in a perverse, masochistic way. My favourites on here are the slightly
more rocking tracks - 'Think Zinc' and 'Zip Gun Boogie' among them. 'Think
Zinc' has perhaps the best Gloria Jones backing vocals on the entire record,
produced in a hilarious echoey way so that they 'bounce' off Bolan's main
singing part, and at least the lyrics are more typical for Bolan than all
that schlock I have described above - is the song really about telepathy
or what? And 'Zip Gun Boogie', which failed to be a hit single (I can understand
that), is at least a solid piece of boogie, although Bolan is trying a
bit too hard to sound hip and rockin' when in reality he comes out looking
like a hopeless poseur; his 'boogie comeback' with 'I Love To Boogie' two
years later would be far more self-assured and authentic.
But, try as I might, I just can't remember anything positive about the
other tracks. Starry strings and aethereal atmospheres on 'Till Dawn' sound
tired and recycled for the hundredth time; 'Girl In The Thunderbolt Suit'
reeks of intentional idiocy; and 'I Really Love You Babe' gets on my nerves,
as Gloria Jones' backing vocals start to get annoying and unnecessary after
they'd been used in about the same way on the first seven or eight songs
here: I mean, Bolan didn't even have enough diverse arranging ideas for
this record.
Funny enough, the two bonus tracks on here (obscure B-sides) are arguably
better than most of this stuff. Bolan's version of the classic 'Do You
Wanna Dance?' is fascinating, done in an arrangement that's fairly different
from both the Beach Boys and John Lennon (who - coincidentally? probably
not, as they were sometimes collaborating with Marc - released his own
version of it at exactly the same time). It's playful, light, features
pretty backing vocals and is just tremendous fun when you hear it sung
in Marc's bleating voice. And Otis Redding's 'Dock Of The Bay', apparently
sung by none other than Gloria Jones herself, is at least far, far removed
from the sordid glam values that overcrowd this record. When these two
tracks come out of the gloom, it's like getting a feeling that you've just
been pulled out of a dumpster and put under a light shower to clean off
the garbage.
Simply put, if you're starting a T. Rex collection, this is probably the
last record you should get. It's an excellent foil for T. Rex haters: if
ever one wanted to draw enough arguments for the statement 'T. Rex = Derivative
Crap Epitomised', Zip Gun should be the greatest assessment. But,
truly and verily, this album is so untypical of Bolan's usual style that
it's far easier to dismiss it as a historical mistake and concentrate on
the interesting stuff instead.
Till dawn, I'll
be waiting for your ideas
FUTURISTIC
DRAGON
Year Of Release: 1976
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10
Very pompous - but I actually prefer intelligent pomposity to banal
glamrockishness. Bolan slowly comes back to life.
Best song: NEW YORK CITY
Slowly, we recover the faith in our hero. Bolan's back! Not quite
back - the definite return to form would only occur a year later - but
at least Futuristic Dragon is fully listenable, unlike the previous
record. On a general level, this record is not a leap forward or something
like that: we all know that since Marc pioneered the glam formula in the
early Seventies, he'd done very few things to broaden the horizons. But
at least, Dragon is a competent, self-assured record that returns
us to the level of enjoyability found on any 'routine' Bolan album - yeah,
like Slider. Which probably means that Marc had finally overcome
the crisis and understood that, however dumb-ified his image would turn
out to be, he would never again manage to completely recapture his audiences.
Early Seventies' teens had grown up and were probably ashamed of having
fallen prey to TRexstasy in the first place (the fools!), while mid-Seventies
teens were far more interested in disco that was just beginning to gain
complete force.
Realising that, Bolan simply sent 'em all to hell and went back to the
tried and true - the classic formula. Not that the album completely repeats
the formula: Marc was clever enough to insert some contemporary (or retro,
whatever) elements that were rarely heard before. Futuristic Dragon,
in fact, is a record that announces many firsts - it features a very hard,
almost metallic, sound on a few tracks; there's a very strong soul and
R'n'B influence, not so prominent before; there are even several nods to
disco; and, most important, the record is supposed to be a concept one
- even if I can't still figure out what the concept is all about. At least,
on the surface the conceptuality of this record is limited to the album
cover, the introductory title track where Bolan recites a typical poetry
excerpt of his introducing the Futuristic Dragon, and the instrumental
'Theme For A Dragon' - a very nice one, too, with pompous, but catchy,
string arrangements and mock crowd noises. Is the crowd supposed to meet
the dragon or what?
All the other songs never give any hint at the 'draconic' concept; but
maybe that's not essential - the 'dragon' songs were probably just introduced
in order to give the album an illusionary 'coherent' feel, not to mention
the fact that Bolan painfully needed to return to his D&D subject matters
after the girl-I-love-you triteness of Zip Gun. There are still
a couple of throwaways like that on here - isolated musical/lyrical atavisms,
left over from last year (most notably the unconvincing soul parody 'Ride
My Wheels'); but luckily, for the most part the funny mystical lyrics are
back, and Bolan seems once again intent on puzzling and baffling his listener
rather than just making him go red in the face.
A typical example is the magnificent (yup, and I'm not even joking) retro
number 'New York City', structured as a big-band jazz-pop number a la Fifties,
although the arrangement is hugely relying on synths and totally modern-sounding
guitars. The lyrics? I quote directly: 'Did you ever see a woman/Coming
out of New York City/With a frog in her hand/Did you ever see a woman/Coming
out of New York City/With a frog in her hand/I did don't you know/I did
don't you know/I did don't you know/And don't it show.' End of quote. End
of lyrics, actually - the same lyrics are repeated three times in
a row. Stupid? Indeed. So utterly stupid and baffling that it almost seems
Marc is mocking us - isn't that the same kind of bad self-parody he used
to employ on Zip Gun? No, it isn't. It might be self-parody, too,
but it's an ironic, self-conscious kind of parody, like: 'Hey guys, I can
do this and really make a fool of myself'. The parody on Zip-Gun
was unintentional and bad-flavoured; this thing nears genius.
A quick run through (runthrough through?) the highlights. 'Jupiter Liar'
is a magnificent pop-rock composition, with what could probably be the
catchiest melody on here - 'who ever said that you could dance now baby
who ever said you was a liar...' sorry, couldn't resist humming it one
more time. 'Chrome Sitar' indeed features a sitar, although I don't know
if it's chrome or not. 'Calling All Destroyers' is surprisingly grim and
nihilistic - just like its title would suggest. And 'Dreamy Lady' (as far
as I remember, it was a minor hit single - a very minor one, though) is
a nice, atmospheric ballad that avoids the machismo dreck of Zip Gun
and reverts us to all those classic one-chord Bolan ballads of the days
of yore.
As usual, though, there's plenty of filler (especially near the end, where
the album gets really weak) - but if you're hunting for Bolan's glam period,
well, you just have to get over it. Who knows, maybe someday some of this
filler will emerge as actually important: some songs do grow on you, like
the bouncy, 'autobiogrpahical' 'All Alone' with its wild orchestration
and cute lyrics - 'All alone I sit at home/With my chrome guitar/Even Michael
Mouse/He has a house with someone there...'
I suppose I should also mention that the record is far, far more tastefully
arranged than the last one. Gloria Jones still sings backing vocals, but
they are finally put under control and structured so that she doesn't always
sound like an echo of Marc. The instrumentation is varied - lots of brass,
non-cheesy synths and guitars, acoustic and electric, and it's even been
rumoured that David Bowie himself played saxophone on some of the tracks.
Don't know where exactly, though. Dragon also gives the impression
of being way, way too overblown in places - but after all, wasn't that
Bolan's main schtick in the first place? It's fun.
As for the re-issued version, apart from a couple decent rockers, it adds
a very important link in the Bolan saga - the bleeding acoustic ballad
'Life's An Elevator'. Besides the interesting, captivating melody based
on two different acoustic guitar riffs played in different channels, it's
especially important for the cynical, desperate lyrics - 'Life's an elevator/It
goes up and down/Life's an elevator/Can't you dig the sound?', wails Marc,
and you get the impression that he's really singing about his failed
career. Not sure if he was really digging the sound of the elevator going
down, though.
All alone and
waiting for your ideas
DANDY
IN THE UNDERWORLD
Year Of Release: 1977
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11
A pretty good 'comeback' album for Bolan, and a fine, tuneful alternative
for the punk chaos of 1977.
Best song: DANDY IN THE UNDERWORLD
What with all the 'T.Rexstasy' having finally dissipated into thin air
a long time ago, Bolan still managed to get by, and the 1976 single 'I
Love To Boogie' even managed to hit the British Top 20. The song is included
here, and it's really nothing special, but, then again, all of T. Rex music
is nothing special if you think of it in terms of sheer musical innovation
and such. On the plus side, it's really a hot, steamy boogie, recorded
in a rather stripped-down, four-piece arrangement, with Marc delivering
the generic, but oh so funny chorus ('I love to boogie, Bolan pretty boogie,
we love to boogie on a Saturday night') with just enough energy and entertainment
to sound just the right way. Bill Haley updated for the Seventies, if anybody's
interested; I am. Where's that Bill Haley update for the Nineties,
I wonder? Ah, never mind.
It's doubtful that the album was ever intended as nothing more than a cash-in
on the single's success, though, because the rest of the songs don't really
feel that compatible. Most of the melodies are rather simple, of course
- in that 'half-brilliant' memorable Bolan simplicity, but most of them
are also drenched in synths and various electronic gadgets, sometimes adding
disco basslines and sometimes almost approaching a certain Europop standard
(the chorus to 'Jason B Sad' is nearly ABBA-like). As it is, this is one
of the few records I have that really loosens its grip on you after you've
sat through it for a couple of times. None of the songs are bad, and most
are downright good; but overall, the monotonousness just kinda gets you
down after a while.
This doesn't at all relate to the brilliant title track that opens the
album, of course. The 'subtitle' here states that this is 'a Bolanic revision
of Orpheus Descending', but if you ask me, the song doesn't have much to
do with Orpheus; instead, it's a bit of a self-portrait, as the Dandy in
question is certainly none other than Bolan himself. 'Prince of players,
pawn of none, born with steel reins on the heart of the Sun'. Any doubts
left? And the song is very very addictive, a sort of a lazy barroom shuffle
with a slow, moderate beat, Bolan's trademark shakey vocals holding up
the groove, moody backing vocals and that loud booming chorus - 'When will
he come up for air, will anybody care?' An entirely fitting testament to
Marc's career that was to abruptly end less than a year later, but in that
light, I'd probably advise the publishers to move it to the very end of
the record.
Everything else pretty much follows the formula 'generic boogie with synth
overlays and a hippie-esque flavour', although it's mostly diversified
enough to avoid falling back into the simplistic trap of The Slider.
There's even nary a ballad in sight, as Bolan reinstates his image as that
of a 'rocker with an edge'; pretty understandable in the light of the upcoming
'punk revolution', as Marc was a big fan of the movement and even spent
the last weeks of his life introducing his newly found punk pals like The
Jam on TV through a self-conducted program. On the other hand, Dandy
In The Underworld could hardly be called 'punk', as it misses the most
essential element of the genre - the anger and passion. Only on the last
track, 'Teen Riot Structure', Bolan lets his hair down a little and makes
some obscure observations on the problem, and phrases like 'All London
was in blazes burning to the sound/Of deep galactic tragedies, in stereophonic
sound' (whew, what a bad rhyming style) could draw analogies with The Clash,
if only their 'London Burning' hadn't come out two months after
Dandy.
All the other songs are pretty innocent, mostly featuring love lyrics with
a cosmic scent. In that respect, 'Crimson Moon' and 'Universe' are pretty
much the same song, except that the melodies are different; 'Crimson Moon'
is a generic boogie that borrows the intro from McCartney's 'Helen Wheels',
and 'Universe' is probably disco with a Latin influence, although I couldn't
say for sure. If not for the bizarre synth 'decorations', skilled sax solos
courtesy of Chris Mercer and Bolan's usual wacko vocals, they'd be pretty
much forgettable, but kudos to Marc for making even the obviously potential
filler turn into fully realized and enjoyable songs under his leadership.
Even such a simplistic tune as the bouncy dance number 'I'm A Fool For
You Girl' manage to be addictive without sacrificing their totally trashy
nature, thus rendering the album a full-fledged 'guilty pleasure'. Hah!
Of course, the further you get to listen to this, the further you get bored,
just like it's easy to get bored from listening to thirty minutes of Chuck
Berry, but, like I said, the filler is diverse enough, with different types
of instrumentation and regularly alternating tempos, and even in among
all the filler there are at least three more tracks I'd like to blab about.
'Visions Of Domino' is an unexpectedly menacing number with ominous, 'battle-oriented'
string arrangements, and the song's message - 'her love is hot, but mine
is not', as is told in the subtitle - might reflect Bolan's dissatisfaction
with the glam life he once led. Then again, it might not. 'Jason B Sad'
('a distant boy friend of Johnny B Goode') is a very strange character
assassination story, although I'd easily give a prize to anyone who'd inform
me of what kind of character really gets assassinated and what does
the actual chorus to the song mean. And, finally, 'Hang-Ups' is arguably
the best R'n'B send-up here, better even than 'I Love To Boogie', as the
gruff guitar riff, emphasized by the pretty little synth backing, is simply
irresistable, and the line 'I'm such a contradiction - I'm just a hung-up'
is always on my mind, no matter how much I try to shake it off.
In all, this is not really a substantial progress over the kind of sound
Marc developed with Electric Warrior, if you don't count the synth
backings; essentially, it's just one more rehashing of the old formula.
Luckily for us, Mr Bolan still wasn't spent by 1977, so he was able to
find enough creative ways to make the same formula work in different aspects.
This is an album that's entirely and totally disposable (like pretty much
everything Marc has recorded after 1971), and I'm not going to pretend
that it's a 'classic' or something. Then again, so are ninety-nine percent
of Fifties' rockers, for instance. Listening to the actual music, though,
is an unabashed and open pleasure, and the arrangements have enough taste,
style, memorability and, well, sense, to make you want to keep it
for ever. And overall, it's better than Slider, which is good news
for you baby.
Oh, and, as you all know, Marc got killed half a year later in a car crash.
I love to boogie, and
I also love posting your ideas
ACROSS
THE AIRWAVES
(released by: MARC BOLAN AND T[YRANNOSAURUS] REX)
Year Of Release: 1982
Record rating = 10
Overall rating = 13
Aye, that's a thirteen. Bolan seemed to feel perfectly at
home when playing for the BBC.
Best song: LIFE'S A GAS (perhaps)
Gee, sometimes I wonder if there ever is such a thing as a crappy
'live-at-the-BBC' record. With all the enormous archives finally laid bare
for all to see, and an endless stream of live radio recordings pouring
on the listeners since the early Eighties (this record was one of the first
heralds), you could have thought most of this would seem cute, but disposable.
No way. The Hendrix album is great. The Led Zep album is awesome. The Stones'
and the Who's recordings are legendary - and they still haven't come out.
Even the Beatles' double set is interesting, mostly due to inclusion of
material unavailable elsewhere. And this?
This is a great record, even if it seems to be out of print now,
moreover, the package has long since been rendered obsolete by numerous
other BBC recordings (the latest one has thirty-two tracks instead
of twenty-one on here and promises to be an even greater 'guilty pleasure').
But who cares? To the best of my knowledge, there ain't a single bad song
on here - I find the uttermost fun in listening to the album from the very
start to the very end.
Beware, though, oh you casual listener. If it's the boogie-glammy Marc
Bolan you're hunting for, you'd be much better off with his regular
studio albums like Electric Warrior et al., or 'regular' compilation
albums. This archive release's main aim is to outline the development of
Marc's career from the earliest days and up to his rise as a glam star,
but it basically stops at the very moment that the man stepped over the
threshold separating him from the unabashed glitter craze. The big problem
is that, for some curious reason, the tracks are not arranged chronologically.
Well, to a certain extent they are, but the three main 'periods'
of Bolan's activity are unexpicably changed around. The CD starts with
six Tyrannosaurus Rex numbers, played with Peregrine Took, then rushes
on to the late 1970/early 1971 full-blown-band period with Bolan doing
several of his early teenager hits, and then recedes back to the 'intermediate'
stage: the 'late Tyrannosaurus Rex' with Marc Bolan and Mickey Finn dueting.
Keep in mind that if you ever have a chance to listen to this, the natural
thing to do is to program the CD so that you get a more correct picture
of the man's progression.
But this is a minor problem in any case; and if you take the trouble to
arrange the songs in chronological order and the 'line of evolution' will
be set up straight, it'll be easier to see how the glammy Bolan grew out
of the hippie Bolan - the process wasn't a mystical one, and it sure as
hell wasn't a revolutionary one, either. You'll see for yourself.
On the other hand, the mixed-up chronology is easily compensated by numerous
advantages. First, the sound quality is pretty fair, like on most BBC records,
and while the silly voiceovers on some of the tracks are annoying, they
are few and it's possible to get used to them over time. Second, the selected
material is mostly top of the pops - there's basically no filler at all,
only the worthy meat of Mr Bolan's career. The six early Tyrannosaurus
Rex tunes are swell - hippie music at its most charming; except for a true-to-the-studio-version
rendition of 'Scenescof' from the debut album, most of the other tracks
come from their third record, Unicorn (the marvelous 'Misty Coast
Of Albany', the tear-inducing 'Iscariot' and the gorgeous 'Chariots Of
Silk'), and it's obvious that at that particular time Bolan was already
far more experienced in crafting brilliant vocal melodies and making full
use of his voice's potential than when he was just starting. Weird, but
beautiful. There's also a superb rarity meshed in here in the face of 'Once
Upon The Seas Of Abyssinia', a funny mystical tune built on Marc's 'vocal
opposition' - singing one line in an ultra-high falsetto and the other
one in a low growl; the effect is spooky and you'll find yourself chanting
the title of the song for hours on end. Guaranteed.
The 'intermediate' period (mostly songs from 1970's A Beard Of Stars
and singles) is also represented well: 'Fist Heart Mighty Dawn Dart', 'Pavilions
Of Sun' and 'A Daye Laye' are all catchy, utterly memorable highlights
(and don't you go forgetting 'Wind Cheetah'), and when Bolan picks up the
electric and goes in a desperate rendition of 'Summertime Blues', obviously
aiming more at reproducing the pulsating energy of the Who than the light
bounce of Eddie Cochran, you can't but acknowledge that, while he does
lack the needed Townshend distortion, the necessary Entwistle low growl
and the indispensable Daltrey roar, he still does the song justice, and
he's great boogie man.
This is further demonstrated by the 'full-band' numbers: the rockers 'Jewel'
and 'Jeepster' are tossed off splendidly, with enough modesty to not seem
pretentious and enough passion and fury to seem authentic rock'n'roll.
Judging by the way the band plays in the recording studio, you'd never
guess these were the infamous glam pioneers: the arrangements are,
sure enough, stripped down, the volume is subdued, and Bolan manages to
attract attention not to his starry-eyed lyrics or any aspects of the 'personal
factor', but rather to his gloomy, eerie singing and impressive guitar
picking instead. Plus, apart from the defiant 'Jeepster', there's really
little 'glammy' about this selection. The dreamy, mantraic 'Beltane Walk'
and 'Sailors Of The Highway' could just as well be taken from his Peregrine
Took period, you know, and the ballads are just the ballads - underarranged,
stripped-down, humble and oh so cute in their innocence. 'Girl' is great,
and 'Life's A Gas' is even better.
In all, I won't be rambling too much about the record cuz it's stupid to
ramble about a BBC recording of songs I haven't yet heard on regular studio
releases; I'll be building up my Bolan collection in the future, I promise.
I'll just conclude that if you see this cheap, hell, even if you see it
as a Japanese import as you can see on the current cover, don't hesitate
to grab it. A priceless anthology of Bolan's 'young and innocent days'
it is, and a richly rewarding listen at almost any time of day or night.
But beware, if Sixties' Bolan is something you ain't never heard of before,
be ready for a few shocking vocal surprises.
Life's a gas! Now
all I need is your ideas
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