T. Rex's Marc Bolan: so obscure, so influential
Tom Moon
Knight Ridder Newspapers
July 31, 2002 12:00:00

Forget about the Mitsubishi Montero ad and that preposterous Ragu spot. The fact that cable's TNT used "Bang a Gong" during the NBA playoffs. And all the movie soundtrack appearances: "Moulin Rouge!," "The Truman Show," "Velvet Goldmine" and "Billy Elliot," which featured five T. Rex tunes. Even without all that, we're having a T. Rex moment.

The English band of the 1970s, led by singer and songwriter Marc Bolan, had exactly one U.S. Top 10 hit ("Bang a Gong," or "Get It On" as it was known everywhere else) and one album considered by critics of the era to be truly memorable (1971's "Electric Warrior").

But somehow T. Rex - whose retrospective "20th Century Boy: The Ultimate Collection" (Hip-O/Universal) will be out on Aug. 20 to mark the 25th anniversary of Bolan's death on Sept. 16 - now looms as one of the most influential outfits ever to languish in obscurity.

This is the band that taught David Bowie how to be glam, helped hard-rock bands get in touch with their inner Druid, presaged the attitude of punk, found new ways to tap the emotional reservoirs of the blues and boogie, and used strings as more than just window dressing. T. Rex's irreverent smushing of the lewd and the high-minded, the staccato guitar riff and the transcendent melody, looked boldly forward to what would become entire rock subgenres.

All across the garage-rock universe, it's impossible to miss the influence of T. Rex. Close your eyes at a Strokes show and you can sense Bolan's ghost in hooks that are earthy, sexy and slightly psychedelic. Same thing, for different reasons, with scores of other bands, from the Vines to Marah to a hell-raising new Swedish band, Division of Laura Lee. That big choir and wall of sound - from producer Tony Visconti, who became Bowie's sound-shaper - remains an ideal. Bowie chases it again on his new "Heathens," which reteams him with Visconti.

Bolan's lyrical approach, which used outlandish imagery and wordplay that didn't always make linear sense, is returning as well: The Red Hot Chili Peppers' new "By the Way" contains several songs that bear the imprint of the underground icon with the corkscrew hair and the netherworld whisper.

"It's weird to me," says Rolan Bolan, who was 2 when his father died, is now pursuing a career making soul-inflected rock in L.A., and in September will participate in a series of British events in memory of his father. "At the time he was making records people in the U.S. didn't know him really. ... But they're getting curious now. People are realizing there's a lot to discover on those records."

Indeed there is. "The Ultimate Collection" starts with recordings Bolan and percussionist Steve Took made as Tyrannosaurus Rex, including the mystical single "Debora," recorded around the time of the duo's 1968 acoustic debut "My People Were Fair and Had Sky in Their Hair ... But Now They're Content to Wear Stars on Their Brows." The basic concept: image-rich fantasy themes sung over bongos and droning guitars, conjuring a world-aware be-in similar to the trippy singles of Donovan. By 1970 and the pair's fourth album, "A Beard of Stars," electric elements were creeping in, and Bolan's choruses, many of them scat-sung, carried traces of the blues.

Bolan and new percussionist Mickey Finn changed the act's name to T. Rex that year and released "Ride a White Swan," which was dominated by electric guitars and Bolan's insinuating wail. In Britain, the track kicked off a streak of 11 Top 10 singles between 1970 and 1974. Several tunes that didn't connect here - "Telegram Sam," the strident "Children of the Revolution," and the funk-influenced "20th Century Boy" - are among the most riveting three-minute achievements of the era, songs that celebrate crazed street characters, take sly digs at pampered stars ("I drive a Rolls-Royce 'cause it's good for my voice," he sings on "Children of the Revolution"), and testify to the healing powers of "Hot Love."