FEATURE:
Childhood Treasures: Albums That Impacted Me
T. Rex – Electric Warrior
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THIS is an album that contains…
IN THIS PHOTO: Marc Bolan in 1971/PHOTO CREDIT: Bob Gruen
a few of the best T. Rex tracks ever. I heard Electric Warrior pretty early on in life. The album was released in 1971 – it celebrates fifty years in September. I mist have heard it in the late-1980s or early-1990s. I was aware of T. Rex to that point, and I had heard the greatest hits. Electric Warrior is the album that I bonded with and still hold dear. It is small wonder. When you consider the strength of the material and Marc Bolan’s phenomenal performances throughout. To me, Bolan is one of the most underrated songwriters ever. Look at some of the songs on Electric Warrior. Cosmic Dancer, Jeepster, Bang a Gong (Get It On), Life's a Gas, and Girl are all gems! When I was a child, I must have been struck by the catchiness of the songs. I had heard quite a bit of Glam music to that point. I was struck by the more theatrical elements of Electric Warrior. What kept me coming back was the variety. There are softer, more emotive numbers against stompers. If you are unfamiliar with Electric Warrior, then go and seek it out. It is one of the most consistently brilliant albums ever released. I am going to conclude with some more thoughts in a bit. Before that, I want to source a couple of reviews for an absolutely magnificent album.
AllMusic gave their impressions of 1971’s Electric Warrior. As you can see, they were hugely moved and stunned by a hugely influential album:
“The album that essentially kick-started the U.K. glam rock craze, Electric Warrior completes T. Rex's transformation from hippie folk-rockers into flamboyant avatars of trashy rock & roll. There are a few vestiges of those early days remaining in the acoustic-driven ballads, but Electric Warrior spends most of its time in a swinging, hip-shaking groove powered by Marc Bolan's warm electric guitar. The music recalls not just the catchy simplicity of early rock & roll, but also the implicit sexuality -- except that here, Bolan gleefully hauls it to the surface, singing out loud what was once only communicated through the shimmying beat. He takes obvious delight in turning teenage bubblegum rock into campy sleaze, not to mention filling it with pseudo-psychedelic hippie poetry. In fact, Bolan sounds just as obsessed with the heavens as he does with sex, whether he's singing about spiritual mysticism or begging a flying saucer to take him away. It's all done with the same theatrical flair, but Tony Visconti's spacious, echoing production makes it surprisingly convincing. Still, the real reason Electric Warrior stands the test of time so well -- despite its intended disposability -- is that it revels so freely in its own absurdity and willful lack of substance. Not taking himself at all seriously, Bolan is free to pursue whatever silly wordplay, cosmic fantasies, or non sequitur imagery he feels like; his abandonment of any pretense to art becomes, ironically, a statement in itself. Bolan's lack of pomposity, back-to-basics songwriting, and elaborate theatrics went on to influence everything from hard rock to punk to new wave. But in the end, it's that sense of playfulness, combined with a raft of irresistible hooks, that keeps Electric Warrior such an infectious, invigorating listen today”.
There is another review that I want to source. When Pitchfork spent some time with Electric Warrior in 2003 (when it was reissued), this is what they said:
“For those hunting down the singles, Electric Warrior does contain the immortal "Bang a Gong (Get it On)", but that's neither the only nor the best reason to pick it up. What makes this record so enduring is its almost accidental emotional depth: When T.Rex is kicking out the jams, they sound like they're having the most gleeful, absurd good time ever committed to wax. There's nothing so glorious in rock and roll as hearing Bolan croon, "Just like a car, you're pleasing to behold/ I'll call you Jaguar if I may be so bold," over his namesake boogie.
The most significant aspect of Electric Warrior isn't its arena rock confidence; it's that Bolan allows his grinning mask to slip. With the incomparable aid of producer Tony Visconti, Bolan sketches a vast, empty room, where, after the party's over, he resides alone, wide-eyed and desperate. On ballads like "Cosmic Dancer", "Monolith" and "Girl", he speaks in the same gibberish as elsewhere, but he's clearly haunted-- by what we can't say. But the gaping, searing question mark that comes at the conclusion of the album-- guitar feedback paired with a string section, holding a shivering and very ambivalent cluster of notes-- is just one of many clues that there's more to Electric Warrior than its surface lets on. This is not simply a man who plays party songs because he wants to: This is a man who plays party songs to fend off darkness”.
I have so much love and respect for Electric Warrior. It is an album that I can put on at any time - and it will make me feel better. From the unique and memorable lyrics, to the musicianship of the band and Marc Bolan’s magnetic vocals, one cannot help but love Electric Warrior. It was an album that impacted me as a child. One would think that the album has diminished or faded from my consciousness as I have played it so many times. The opposite is true. The magnificent 1971-released work of genius is enormously important to me…
AFTER all of these years.