17 of 18 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
If he'd only waited we would've caught up (really we would), June 10, 2004
For reasons too boring to go into I've been revisiting Marc Bolan lately and what an interesting experience its proving to be. I'd bailed after Slider and whilst continuing to get the occasional kick out of a blast from the past never bothered to listen to Tanx and everything that came afterwards. But then after reading the review of Futuristic Dragon by "derblueangel" I figured I really should check this album out. Well, splash me with tomato sauce and call me a sausage roll if this isn't one dam fine set of songs.
Whats really interesting though is not the fact that here we have a bunch of richly textured songs that wail like vampires on heat but rather the way the album draws attention to the fact that a certain set of circumstances acted in concert to doom Bolan and deify his best mate Bowie.
There are remarkable parallels in the careers of Bolan and Bowie, but, where Bowie was arguably calculating and clever, Bolan was, to be frank, a bit of a tosser. Both boys started out markedly influenced by the residues of the hippie 60's with Mark all elfin and trippy and Bowie all folksy and long haired. Good friends it was nevertheless Marc who was undeniably the senior partner. Marc had hits and swooning girls whilst Bowie had 'interesting' potential. Check out the old "Jackie" magazines of the early seventies - Marc's all over them with Bowie making guest appearances. Bowie was cool'ish but that Bolan boy was sex on a stick.
Bolan clearly adored being adored (even if 90 percent of the fans were below the legal age of consent) and enthusiastically courted the media at every opportunity. In practice what this meant was a stretching the truth that only someone with a truly monstrous ego could sustain. He famously claimed to have jammed with Hendrix and taught him how to really wield that axe and that he'd spent three months in the woods in France living with a warlock learning how to cast spells. The truth about the magic is that on a weekend trip to Paris he went home with the juggling waiter who served dinner. Its unclear if he ever actually spent time with Hendrix at all.
None of this would matter were it not for the fact that the music powefully reminds us of the necessity to separate the artist from the art. Marc acted like a complete idiot because he loved the adulation but he equally clearly loved the music and wanted to push it into new territory. But, he'd made his deal with the devil. He got the fame he craved but it was almost entirely dependent on people not yet ready to follow him into a sort of funk soul that in another ten years would sound soooo right.
And on the margins, Bowie watched, learned and understood the importance of timing.
Bowie saw how one album could transform an audiance base and bring it all home. Electric Warrior cut Bolan loose from the earnest student types and gave Marc the swooning high school masses that lapped up his good looks as much as those beautifully crafted songs. Bowie took note and lo and behold we have Ziggy Stardust doing the same trick - but - with a twist. In contrast to Bolan, Bowie cut loose from the teeny boppers and aimed straight for the jugular of the very student types that Bolan had abandoned.
Tanx, and more particularly Futuristic Dragon, reveal Marc carving out a sound that was just quite simply unheard of at the time but who was there to 'get it'. Not the folks that had given Marc his start and if he seriously thought American lovers of funk and soul were going to embrace it delivered by a now pudgy former glam teenybop star from England he was even further away with the fairies than most people thought. Meanwhile, on the margins, Bowie waited.
Bowie, it would seem, genuinely loved Marc and his sound and it comes squarely to the foreground on Station to Station and Young Americans(and just by the by, check out the sax on Tanx and Futuristic Dragon if you miss the days when David actually played). What a difference a few years and and different audiance makes. Bolan is derided as having lost the plot whilst Bowie is lauded as innovative and right on the money.
We'll never know what might have been but the later Marc was clearly well on the way to capturing something unique in the way he melded together boogie, funk, soul, and a Spector'ish wall of sound that none of us had ever heard before. Maybe without what Bowie went on to achieve we wouldn't fully appreciate just what overlooked gems albums like Futuristic Dragon really are - maybe - whats certain is that its hard not to listen to these songs and curse the fates "its a rip off".
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8 of 8 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Overlooked Glam Rock Gem, April 9, 2002
This review is from: Futuristic Dragon (Audio CD)
I can certainly understand that in the world of Pop, you're either hot, or you're not. After "Zinc Alloy", which many perceived as a lame "Ziggy Stardust"-styled ...(after Bowie spent so much time stealing from Bolan, ironically), I stopped buying T-Rex records. The reviews at Amazon brought me back to this one. Purportedly recorded before "Zip Gun" (which most people detest), this would've been perceived as a "Diamond Dogs" ...(complete with spoken intro, half-baked thematic concept, etc.), and perhaps by the time it came out, people hadn't even cared to listen anymore, but I must say, I love this album. I bought it three months ago, and I still listen to it every week. It's good, semi-overblown but catchy T.Rex rock. Start with the single (and bonus track) "Laser Love". It's a lost glam gem. Gloria Jones doesn't bother me a bit; this song is a blast. The first five tracks are solid, especially "All Alone" with its swinging violins (I have this perverse love of pre-Bee Gees disco, especially heavily orchestrated tunes). It gets a little soft in the middle, and then gets wonderfully odd at the end, especially with "Dreamy Lady", which is this perverse sorta lounge number that would be at home at any karaoke bar. Am I being facetious? Heck no! This album is Bolan having FUN. It's utterly charming, unpretentious, and wickedly absurd. This could inspire the next Radiohead album! Don't pass it up; it's a keeper.
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10 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Lunacy's Back, But Does It Really Matter?, November 3, 2003
In fact yeah, it does matter. I've read loads of horrible reviews for this album. I wouldn't have even entertained the idea of buying it if it wasn't for a little thing called file sharing. I downloaded the complete versions of Dawn Storm, Jupiter Liar, and Sensation Boulevard from Kaaza and gave them a listen. At first I didn't know what to make of the songs. They were so different from Electric Warrior and The Slider. It took me a couple of listens to get used to them. And then something happened. Don't really know what but I found myself humming Jupiter Liar one day and desperately wanting to own it on cd. Payday that week sent me running to the nearest record store where I had to special order the album and wait two weeks for it to arrive. The same day I brought it home I listened to it twice in its entirety. I think I put New York City on repeat. Since late August it has become a permenant staple of my most played cds. I even made a copy of the entire album on tape so I could listen to it in my car. It may actually be easier for someone who isn't familiar with Marc Bolan's other work to pick this album up and enjoy it as is. To compare it with his earlier stuff is futile 'cause by this time he was moving in a completely different direction both musically and with his life. I think that this album is his real farewell to his former life as a glam rock superstar. There are still lots of really fun lyrics here though. I guess the best way to describe the feel of the album is to relate a story involving it. A couple of weeks ago I went to visit a friend in Boston. We spent the night drinking vodka, walking around the city dolled up in fishnets and vinyl, washing down questionable pharmaceuticals with Jolt Cola all the while smoking French Silk Cut Ciagrettes which my friend carried around in a little black ciagrette case. After emerging from The Linwood, a little punk club with a couple of fashionably seedy boys on our arms we got a ride back to her place just outside of the city. I forced my copy of Futuristic Dragon into the tape player of the hapless driver (I think it was her roomate but I can't be sure) and as Jupiter Liar segued into Chrome Sitar something strange happened. I think that the mood of Chrome Sitar kind of summed up our evening 'cause we sat there tired and staring out of the windows in awe as the lights of the 3 a.m. city passed over our heads. It was a really washed out, happy feeling like your body is ready to shut down 'cause you haven't slept in a week but you've had a really amazing night doing all this decadent, stupid stuff that you never should have done in the first place and loved every minute of it. I think that Futuristic Dragon might just be Marc Bolan's 3 a.m. in a big US city heading home after the party and smiling at the thought of his nice warm bed album.
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