Welcome to the Glam Apocalypse
In 1971, while prog rockers were busy writing 17-minute flute solos and Led Zeppelin were busy inventing ways to make trousers tighter, Marc Bolan and T Rex quietly detonated a cultural glitter bomb. Electric Warrior wasn’t just an album, it was the birth certificate of glam rock.
Marc Bolan didn’t just sing songs, he posed them. His voice slithered, his lyrics oozed nonsense masquerading as poetry, and the whole record sounded like rock ‘n’ roll had decided it quite fancied a sequin or two. I remember first hearing “Bang a Gong (Get It On)” and thinking: this is either the dumbest or the most genius thing I’ve ever heard. Turns out it’s both, which is why it works.
Table of Contents
Who’s Strutting in Sequins?
- Marc Bolan – vocals, guitar, self-appointed elf-king of glam
- Mickey Finn – percussion, bongos, glam’s most stylish sidekick
- Steve Currie – bass guitar, groove supplier extraordinaire
- Bill Legend – drums, solid as a platform boot
- Howard Kaylan & Mark Volman (Flo & Eddie) – backing vocals, sweetening Bolan’s madness
- Tony Visconti – producer, occasional strings, the man behind the shimmer
This wasn’t a ragtag punk gang or a prog collective. It was Bolan’s cult of personality, dressed up as a band.
Themes: Sex, Nonsense and Stardust
Electric Warrior isn’t about grand statements. It’s about vibe. Bolan’s lyrics are gibberish, but they sound profound. Sex drips from every groove, nonsense masquerades as poetry, and the whole thing feels like an invitation to a party you can’t quite believe is real. It’s not rebellion, it’s seduction in glitter.
Track by Track: Glitter-Smeared Sermons
1. Mambo Sun
The album opens with a swampy groove that feels like a strut down a neon-lit alley. Bolan croons about “mambo sun” with lines that make sense only if you’re half-drunk or entirely enchanted. It’s seductive nonsense, delivered with such confidence that you don’t care what it means. I remember thinking it sounded like rock ‘n’ roll had developed hips.
2. Cosmic Dancer
Strings drift in like a dream, and Bolan delivers one of his most haunting performances. “I danced myself out of the womb,” he sings, possibly the most gloriously self-indulgent lyric in rock history. Yet it works. There’s a melancholy under the glitter here; a sense that glam wasn’t just strut, it was fragility too. It’s heartbreak in platform boots.
3. Jeepster
Built on a Bo Diddley beat, “Jeepster” is a swaggering love song that manages to sound both romantic and faintly ridiculous. Bolan compares his lover to a Jeep, because nothing says eternal devotion like four-wheel drive. Yet the groove is irresistible. Every time I hear it, I think: this shouldn’t work, but it’s perfect. That’s Bolan’s gift, turning nonsense into seduction.
4. Monolith
A slower, heavier track with murky mysticism. It’s like Bolan briefly wandered into prog rock’s tent, stole some incense, and then wandered back out. The lyrics are gibberish, the vibe is thick, and the band plays it straight. It’s one of the least immediate songs here, but it adds a strange depth to the album. I’ve grown to love its swampy weirdness.
5. Lean Woman Blues
T Rex does the blues, but with Bolan’s unique twist. It’s sleazy, slinky, and oddly comical at the same time. His guitar licks bite, and the rhythm section grinds along with menace. It feels like glam cosplay, Bolan slipping into the skin of a bluesman and making it glitter. Not the album’s standout, but a dirty little detour.
6. Bang a Gong (Get It On)
The anthem. The reason half the population of Britain suddenly bought glitter eyeliner in 1971. It’s dumb, it’s sexy, it’s infectious beyond reason. That riff is pure primal rock, and Bolan purrs his way through lyrics that read like erotic fridge poetry. I remember the first time I heard it in a club, it was impossible not to dance. This is glam distilled.
7. Planet Queen
A lean rocker with Bolan at his most elfishly cosmic. The groove is simple, but his vocal delivery makes it sparkle. It’s one of those tracks that could’ve been throwaway filler, but Bolan’s sheer charisma elevates it. I’ve always loved how it sounds like he’s singing directly to himself in the mirror, grinning as he does.
8. Girl
Soft, acoustic, and sweet an interlude of tenderness amid the swagger. The strings add a cinematic feel, and Bolan sounds genuinely vulnerable here. It’s the kind of song that sneaks up on you: fragile, fleeting and lovely. Proof that under all the glitter and bravado, Bolan could actually be heartfelt. I think it’s underrated.
9. The Motivator
Pure groove, pure strut. The bassline locks in, the handclaps snap, and Bolan oozes charisma. Lyrically, it’s another pile of nonsense, but by this point you don’t care. The Stranglers threatened to mug you, Bolan invites you to dance on the table until it collapses. This track is like bottled swagger.
10. Life’s a Gas
The quiet heart of the album. Acoustic, melancholic, and oddly profound. “But it really doesn’t matter at all,” Bolan sings, sounding like a man who knows the glitter will fade. It’s tender, fatalistic, and heartbreakingly sincere. I remember sitting with this one on repeat once and thinking: beneath the sparkle, Bolan knew exactly how fragile it all was.
11. Rip Off
The closer: seven minutes of snarling, chaotic energy. It’s as if Bolan decided to cram every last ounce of sleaze, swagger, and absurdity into one song. The groove lumbers, the vocals sneer, and the whole thing collapses in on itself. It’s messy but brilliant, a drunken encore at the end of the party.
Artwork: Bolan in Silhouette
The cover is pure glam minimalism: Marc Bolan silhouetted against a towering amplifier. It’s absurd and brilliant. The amplifier is comically huge-because subtlety is for losers-and Bolan stands like a glittering deity, preparing to fry your brain. The message is simple: worship begins here.
It’s an image so iconic it basically defined glam rock in one frame.
Production: Tony Visconti’s Sparkle Factory
Recorded at Trident Studios in London and Wally Heider Studios in Los Angeles, Electric Warrior was helmed by Tony Visconti, the man who later polished Bowie’s spaceman act. Here, he gave Bolan’s songs warmth and sheen without sanding off the sleaze.
It’s a production marvel: fat bass, crisp drums, guitars that shimmer one second and growl the next. The strings sneak in just enough to add drama without drowning the rock. Every note feels deliberately placed, like glitter sprinkled with military precision.
Trivia: Glitter and Gossip
- “Bang a Gong (Get It On)” was T. Rex’s only U.S. hit.
- Bolan was only 23 when he made this record.
- The album spent eight weeks at #1 in the UK.
- Tony Visconti also produced Bowie’s Heroes but this was his first glam masterstroke.
- The silhouette cover shot was taken by Hipgnosis, the design firm behind Pink Floyd.
Legacy: The Birth of Glam
This album didn’t just sell, it transformed the landscape. Electric Warrior hit number one in the UK, turning Bolan into a cultural phenomenon. Without it, there’s no Bowie Ziggy, no Slade, no glam movement at all. It was ground zero for glitter.
Listening today, it still sparkles. While some glam acts sound dated or camp, Bolan’s swagger hasn’t dimmed. It’s timeless because it’s both dumb fun and strangely poignant.
My Final Thoughts: Bolan’s Glitter Gospel
I think Electric Warrior is essential. Not just for glam fans but for anyone who wants to understand how rock can be both stupid and transcendent at the same time. Bolan’s genius was making nonsense sound like gospel, and swagger feel like salvation.
It’s an album you don’t just listen to, you wear it! Sequins optional, but strongly encouraged.
If You Liked Electric Warrior, I Recommend These
- David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972): Glam perfected.
- Slade – Slayed? (1972): Rowdy glam anthems with pint-spilling energy.
- Roxy Music – Roxy Music (1972): Glam meets art rock excess.
