A deep dive into the glam-rock pioneer's varied catalog
There are so many alleged geniuses in music that the field has grown fallow. Marc Bolan wasnât a genius. But judging by his body of songs, and the overall harvest, he was absolutely guided by a conditional brilliance. Equal parts Bob Dylan, Chuck Berry and John Keats, the late UK glam god seemed to misplace the stolen promethean fire of genius as much as he routinely immolated â70s songwriting with his heart-crushing ballads and chrome-plated rockers.
A half century later, the slippery factors that added up to a Bolan masterpiece were the same math that also left him penning wincing pre-twee dreck: inexplicably, at times in the same song. The same artist that gave us the transcendent high-sheen rock of âThe Sliderâ and â20th Century Boyâ also gave us the annoying albeit popular whimsy of âRide a White Swan.â Even Bolanâs biggest hit, 1971âs âBang a Gong (Get it On),â cruises by on a mixture of sophistication and sappy âwoman-as-carâ imagery.
The ultimate magic trick by Bolan, which in hindsight could arguably be viewed as genius, was that he seemed to keep the inspirational conditions and arrival of the muse close to his heart. His brilliance seems random and inconsistent, but still routinely shines through.
Like the certain Romantic he was, Bolan died young at age 29. Yet he never worked under the morbid schedule of borrowed time. Indisputably prolific, in a short time Bolan wrote songs like he, and like all of us, would live and love forever.
During the course of a 1972 TV interview with Russell Harty, a then-25-year-old Bolan disputes his own fame, name checks Lord Byron, and at times appears uncomfortable, ultimately assuring the host that he doesnât think he will live a long life; and didnât feel any different from when he was nine years old. Maybe that is Bolanâs ultimate legacy: innocence, awe and wonder.
Culling through Bolanâs catalog of studio releases and an ongoing crop of bootlegs and questionably sourced âlive and demoâ albums is daunting. Along with Iggy and the Stooges, the sheer amount of unreleased and repackaged Bolan music is a parallel discography of hit-or-miss collections that can frustrate the curious while enticing completists.
Below is a list of lesser-heralded Bolan songs that tap into that very sense visionary poetics and heart-centered alienation that he navigated so well; accordingly sourced from various albums released before and after Bolanâs brief tenure as a glam-rock god.
“Deboraarobed” (1968)
An alternate, live version from Bolanâs pre-T.Rex band (as Tyrannosaurus Rex) popped up as âDeboraâ on the 2017 Baby Driver soundtrack. This earlier rendition, featuring bubbling accompaniment by percussionist Steve Peregrin Took, is a sing-song chantâmuch of it wordlessâ exalting the titular muse, eventually morphing into a backward-tape freakout. For a deeper dive into the T.Rex wormhole, certainly check out Tookâs circa-1970 stellar band Shagrat; a group who served up some amazing psych in their own right.
âOnce Upon the Seas of Abyssiniaâ (1969)
While it didnât make the official cut on A Beard of Starsâthe final, official release by Tyrannosaurus Rexâ âOnce Upon the Seas of Abyssiniaâ has appeared in lo-fi demo and various live releases over the years. A darker flavor from Bolan, this live version (recorded for BBC radio show Top Gear) is all stripped-down acoustic guitar, wordless echo-drenched backing vocals, and Bolan in unhinged phantasmagoric lyricism: âOnce upon the Seas of Abyssinia / a cultured man with rings within his ear-lobes / locked the door / from which the sun arose.â
âRoot of Starâ (1970)
Taken from the eponymous T.Rex release, âRoot of Starâ is Bolan at his peak of building so much with so little: in this case with a mini-palate of guitar, vocals and Mickey Finnâs minimal percussion and toy glockenspiel. A two-verse composition, âRoot of Starâ shows Bolan in top-flight cosmic-bard mode: âA root of star I gave to thee / from the canyons of the sea / a jewel of frost that was lost / in days of dreams when we were free.â
âThere Was a Timeâ (1971)
A much-bootlegged one-minute piece from the Electric Warrior sessions, âThere Was a Timeâ is a glimmer of Bolanâs relentless output and part of its joys is in imagining the âWhat if?â of a fleshed-out version. Acoustic guitars, a beguiling symphonic arrangement, backing vocals dipping into Bolanâs signature LSD-doo-wop soar, and a blunt commentary on hippie utopia: âAnd all the children / they put flowers in their hair / and all the grown-ups / they put daggers there instead.â
âMystic Ladyâ (1972)
The second cut from the hit album The Slider is a nice micro-galaxy of Bolanâs sheer brilliance. A lazy country strum of guitar, on-point string arrangements by producer Tony Visconti and Bolan at his best pleading vocal delivery with aching lyrics fusing the hippie with the medieval: âSliding riding Sorceress / in your dungarees / got me on my knees.â
âBroken Hearted Bluesâ (1973)
After the back-to-back success of previous albums Electric Warrior and The Slider, Bolan leaned into a more soul and gospel vibe for his follow-up, Tanx; a move that David Bowie would emulate two years later with Young Americans. âBroken Hearted Bluesâ is one of Bolanâs peak moments of lovelorn isolation. A three-chord strum bejeweled in tasteful brass-and-string arrangements, Bolanâs simple-yet-imagist lyrics cut to the heart and marrow: âThis is a song, that I wrote when I was young / and I call it the broken-hearted blues / the air on that night was tempered like a knife / and the people wore the face masks of a clown.â
Tune in to The Independent 89.9 HD4 on Friday, September 16 as we celebrate the music of Marc Bolan and T. Rex all day.