Sep 295 min read

The Enthusiast's Guide: T-Rex

Dave Crompton makes an emotional return to his youth to celebrate a Pop Rock institution that shone bright, bold, bombastic... but all too briefly.

When we speak of T. Rex, or its earlier reincarnation Tyrannosaurus Rex, we are, of course, primarily waxing lyrical about Mark Feld... aka Marc Bolan.

In March 1971 I was little more than a spotty-faced mummy’s boy, careering headlong (and with much trepidation) towards my teenage years. It was a Thursday evening and myself, my two elder sisters and our reluctant parents huddled around our Radio Rental television set to witness the latest Pop acts performing their wares on Top Of The Pops. When this diminutive, corkscrew haired, silk and satin wearing Adonis appeared singing ‘Hot Love’ (the successor to breakthrough hit ‘Ride A White Swan’) I was mesmerised, captivated, and knew immediately I would be addicted to this artist for as long as he, or I, existed.

My sisters weren’t as keen though (they worshipped at the altars of Herman’s Hermits, The Searchers and The Hollies et al), and I’m sure my parents saw this androgynous, enigmatic elf as a genuine threat to our middle-class household... and possibly to our very existence on planet Earth!

From that day forward, until I joined Her Majesty’s army in September 1974, our suburban domain rang out to the aforementioned ‘Hot Love’, then subsequent 1971 hits ‘Get It On’ and ‘Jeepster’, followed by ‘Telegram Sam’, ‘Metal Guru’ and ‘Children Of The Revolution’ during 1972, and finally ‘20th Century Boy’ and their last substantial hit ‘The Groover’ in 1973. In addition, once my parents succumbed to my desperate demands, I acquired all affiliated albums, most notably ‘Electric Warrior’ and ‘The Slider’ – it was a continual barrage of exuberant, flamboyant Glam Rock. Oh, those halcyon days... my apprenticeship in (Pop) Rock and my parents’ worst nightmare!!

Once I’d signed on the dotted line, and I began to make military chums, my taste in music had expanded to include Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, Hawkwind, plus a cornucopia of Glam Rock artists like Sweet, Roxy Music, Slade et al; however, Bolan and T. Rex was still my #1 go-to artist. The vast majority of my comrades found it difficult to accept, or even understand my musical preferences; they were mainly into Soul, Disco and Pop... losers!!

So infatuated with Bolan was I, and once Her Majesty began paying me a decent wage, I purchased the four (pre-1970) Tyrannosaurus Rex albums. Whilst totally fantastical, and dominated throughout by Bolan’s imaginary world of wizards, elves, warlocks and other such creatures, they didn’t provide that raunchy, riff-driven vibe I was now craving; an acoustic guitar and bongos were a far cry from his Gibson Les Paul and full band support. Having said that, it’s always fascinating to return to those

early days, when Bolan was desperately trying to find his place in the world, and indeed... the world of music. Without those humble beginnings, there would’ve been no T. Rex, and therefore this early discography should never be ignored.

Returning briefly to 1973, sixteen months prior to my legendary enlistment, ‘Tanx’ was released. However, Bolan’s stardom was already beginning to wane. Although a commendable album that reached #4 in the UK charts, it fell short of the straight-ahead glitz and glamour of its immediate predecessors; I think Bolan knew it too. By February 1974, the pretentiously titled ‘Zinc Alloy And The Hidden Riders Of Tomorrow’ (influenced by David Bowie’s 1972 masterpiece, perhaps?) intimated that all was not well in Camp Bolan. The T. Rextasy bubble was bursting; drummer Bill Legend departed, and within months producer Tony Visconti and percussionist Mickey Finn followed suit. There was one major positive though; I was still on board, and I was following developments intensely.

Bolan meanwhile, had parted company with wife June and was all loved-up with US singer Gloria Jones (Finn’s natural replacement?), who, along with influences from the R&B radio stations (whilst touring the USA) began to radically change the T. Rex template. Sadly, drugs and drink (and a generous amount of fast food) began to take a firm hold of this short-lived Pop Rock icon and trailblazer, both physically and mentally. By the time that ‘Bolan’s Zip Gun’ appeared in 1975, his career was arguably at an all-time low. Although better than ‘Zinc Alloy...’, and not a total clunker, this sixth T. Rex album was devoid of hit material (although there was the odd gem here and there). Back in the UK, the acts dominating the charts were the likes of The Carpenters, The Stylistics, Stevie Wonder, Frankie Valli, Gloria Gaynor et al. So maybe Bolan, now embracing Soul and Funk, had a point... even a vision (through blurry eyes?). One thing was certain; Glam Rock seemed just a fond, distant memory.

In early 1976, I must confess, I discovered another band, again with charisma and uniqueness that would dominate my life for decades; that band was KISS. Because of this latest obsession, I took my eye off what was happening in the fractured world of Marc Bolan and T. Rex. Thankfully, with every fracture evolves healing and restorative health, and this was now beginning to happen to my musical hero... hurrah!!

‘Futuristic Dragon’, released just six weeks prior to KISS’s ‘Destroyer’, was sonic proof that the diminutive demi-God was on his way back. It was an album oozing with renewed vigour, raunchiness and that unmistakable T. Rex aura. Both the songs ‘New York City’ and ‘Dreamy Lady’ (released prior to the album) entered the UK charts, proving there was still an appetite for Bolan’s music, and that the shoots of his recovery were well-and-truly sprouting. Being in a stable and loving relationship with Jones, and becoming a proud father (to Rolan) a few months earlier, meant that Bolan now had a stable platform to relaunch his once glittering career.

1977’s ‘Dandy In The Underworld’ opus confirmed the comeback was almost complete. This, alongside his newly-commissioned TV series ‘Marc’, breathed new life into Bolan, who also welcomed his new “Godfather of Punk” label. As albums go, ‘Dandy...’ was to take on even more significance, as on 16th September 1977 Bolan suffered fatal injuries in a car crash. Just short of his 30th birthday, he left a Pop/ Rock world in deep shock... and this former mummy’s boy really did cry like a baby...

*Bolan only produced twelve studio albums in his lifetime, but there are a multitude of Deluxe Editions, Boxsets, Compilations, Bootlegs and Live recordings out there, so... do your research, shop wisely and enjoy this never-to-be-forgotten music.

T-Rex's albums rated (click to expand the picture)