it's my party, dammit, and if i want t.rex on, it will be. smile.
had enough? no? fine. same song, with party favor wrapped around his neck. hb2me! hb2me! laughing to empty space, eyes wild, spittle on keyboard from screaming about download speeds ...
what the hell is this?!?
This is the cover song for the last album. Released in March 1977. They were on tour when the album was released, so this performance was probably late spring or early summer. He died in September that year ...
Prince of Players, Pawn of none
Born with steel reins on the heart of the Sun
Gypsy explorer of the New Jersey Heights
Exalted companion of cocaine nights
'Cos he's a Dandy in the Underworld
Dandy in the Underworld
When will he come up for air,
Will anybody ever care
At an old eighteen exiled he was
To the deserted kingdoms of a mythical Oz
Distraction he wanted, to destruction he fell
Now he forever stalks the ancient
Mansions of hell
Now his lovers have left him
And his youth's ill spent
He cries in the dungeons and tries to repent
But change is a monster and changing is hard
But he'll freeze away his summers in his
Underground yard
Christmas approaches. Last year my snow-bubble-boy got a crack habit and a federal sentence. You can find it under the label, “short stories.” For Thanksgiving, I wrote a story for my twin, and gave it to her, unpublished. What shall we do for this holiday season? How about we start with some reflections? That seems pathetic enough …
I started the year in the classroom, having been newly de--- wait, I don’t talk about work, not directly at least. Music, that seems safe. Let’s talk about music.
I drifted back to my roots this year. Found Marc Bolan again. No surprise, perhaps. Subconsciously I must have known that the thirtieth anniversary of his fatal tree-eating scene was coming up in September. His music truly removes me from the present. It isn’t the overwhelming power of his lyrics, Did you ever see a woman coming out of New York City with a frog in her hand? Well, I did, don’t you know? And don’t it show?” (repeat five or six times, maybe seven, then fade out), or the (over)use of strings in the later albums. Rather it’s the time of life for me. I had to break out. I’d been accused and abused, and just needed to stop trying to conform. The contortions were no longer bending me, but breaking. Mascara and fingernail polish, long hair and drugs seemed to do the trick.
I could dance in private to Telegram Sam, Jeepster, and 20th Century Boy. I never ever did the stupid air guitar thing. How embarrassing. I was a lead singer sometimes, other times and mostly just in my own world: my space, my moves, my safety. My eyes were always closed. My door was always heavily blockaded (that’s much more secure that locked, at least psychologically). I was blissfully alone. No one could touch me no matter how much they tried. I was safe. Thirty-some years later, I can’t quite recapture that, but I can get an unfocused glimpse of it – and that is so very cool.
I found again Johnny Cash. I was ten or so when Folsom Prison Blues came out. I would walk into my father’s den with my head down, picturing myself hopelessly facing a 40-year sentence. I would move slowly and put the album on, and then sit on the floor cross-legged. I remember holding the album and staring into his eyes for long periods of time, trying to grasp his reality. I remember the sounds of the prisoners, seated or standing on either side and in front and back of me. I enjoyed their reaction as much as I did watching Johnny perform. I was quiet and alone in the room, but surrounded by the discarded. It was comforting in a deep way. I can’t trick myself like that anymore, but I remember the concept of being able to do it.
I discovered Blind Willie Johnson. What an amazing story. His father beat up his stepmom, so she threw lye into Willie’s 7-year old face and blinded him. He recorded just five sessions over four years, and only one photograph of him is known to exist. One of his songs, Dark was the Night, Cold was the Ground, is just an incredibly mournful song without words – just moans – that is about the Crucifixion. It was included in the Voyager I recordings sent outside our solar system. All of his songs are gospels delivered in the most amazing delta blues fashion with a rough sandpaper voice. His wife sings in the background sometimes. He spent his last years playing on the streets for coin. When his house burned, he continued to live in the rubble. He died of pneumonia a short while later at age 47 or so. His music has been performed by Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, the Dead … all sorts of folks. I just got The Complete Blind Willie Johnson, a two-CD set, yesterday. I am hearing a few songs for the first time. His music to me is the concept of the church I always wanted but never had.
I filled in a lot of The Beatles bootlegs this year. Found a few rich veins – so much, in fact, that I am nursing hard disk space until I expand soon. I focused a lot on George Harrison because of the large gaps. I am at the “completist” stage for John and George, close to there for The Beatles. Paul’s a long way off mainly because I am spotty on his music. Ringo will go from zip to complete in a day or two, so there’s no rush. Reflections? Not really. You can deconstruct January 1969 only so many ways. I find the musical evolution and studio talk interesting, I love hearing songs in infancy that weren’t published until their solo careers, John cracks me up as he makes fun of Paul’s songs (like singing Maxwell’s Silver Hammer), but I’m beyond reflections, I think. You could, however, close me safely in a room with an upper floor window open to catch a summer breeze, play Rocky Raccoon, and perhaps I could find my grandfather’s fields on those days when I knew no one was within seeing or screaming distance. The hay was always as high as my torso. I could see something in the distance running away only by watching the hay respond. The woods were so rich, so old.
I guess in a lot of ways music defined this year for me. That’s not a bad thing.
I was 14, it was 1973, and I got news of first impression for me: a friend had died. Her name was Kim Rolla. We knew each other from kindergarten. She lived in my neighborhood. We played together as kids. She was beautiful – blonde hair, straight. Smart and energetic. All of our friends were one big group. My birthday is February 26th. Kim’s is the 28th or 24th, something like that. We had lots of late February birthdays in that group.
We stayed in the same neighborhood grammar school, Longfellow, PS#28, Scranton, PA, through 6th grade. The junior high was North Scranton. In 7th and 8th, I would see Kim and sometimes (I think) we would spend time together. I used to go to her house during the early years, I just don’t when that stopped. I moved north about 23 miles - an eternity for a kid - during the summer following 8th grade.
The last time I saw her was on the corner of Green Ridge St. and Sanderson Ave. If was before school some warm day. We said hello, chatted for a moment, and off we went in different directions. I was walking, she was waiting for a ride.
My friend Artie called me and told me about the accident. Some girl that I knew as a wild seed with little common sense was racing down a dirt road after a car full of boys. Kim was in the passenger front sitting on the door and banging on the hood. The car flipped, and Kim was crushed underneath.
She had this upturn to her nose before the accident. The reconstruction they did for the funeral presentation didn’t bring back that feature. She was buried in a wedding dress.
I remember, and can still picture, that Sunday’s newspaper. I turned the pages until I found her obit. I stared at the words as I lay on the floor facing the mountains. My brother was on my left in a chair.
I wrote to her mom a few months later and said how sorry I was. She wrote back telling me how Kim had a crush on me when we were younger. I smiled; funny, the crush was unspoken but mutual.
I don’t go to Scranton anymore, but when I did, I always drove past her house on Sanderson Ave., close to where Marion St. comes in.
It was a few years later, 1976 maybe, that I went to her grave for the first time. It was winter. I touched her stone, stayed for a while, talked to her. I have never gone back, but it is funny how I think about her regularly.
Somehow or another, T.Rex’s Get It On because associated with her. Had to be because of when I was emotionally open at the news of her death. Every time I hear the song, Kim’s face comes to me.
The song was released as a single on July 24, 1971; released on the Electric Warrior album on September 17, 1971. In England the song was entitled "Get It On." In America, to avoid confusion with a song with the same name by another artist (Bill Chase, an American trumpet player and leader of a jazz-rock fusion band, Chase) it was re-titled "Bang a Gong, (Get it On)." Not credited on the liner notes is Rick Wakeman of "YES," who played piano on the song.
I found an extensive writing on the studio sessions and reproduce it (in part) below. Following that writing is four versions of the song (videos) and the lyrics. I introduce briefly each version.
[BEGINNING OF EXCERPTED SESSION NOTES]
In early '68 the duo [Marc Bolan and percussionist Steve Peregrine, performing as Tyrannosaurus Rex] was discovered by Tony Visconti, a young arranger/ musician/ engineer from Brooklyn who'd moved to England during 1967 and hooked up doing work with producer Denny Cordell. Visconti helped the group land a deal with EMI's Regal Zonophone label and then took them into the studio to produce the first Tyrannosaurus Rex LP-the fancifully titled My People Were Fair and Had Sky in Their Hair, But Now They're Content to Wear Stars on Their Brows. This was the beginning of an association that would eventually produce ten studio albums.
According to Visconti, after the band cut "Hot Love" in January, they traveled to America for a short tour, and "I followed them there with the excuse to visit my parents in New York. When we met up in New York, Marc suggested we start recording the next album; this was late April. We booked Media Sound Studios on 57th Street and recorded 'Jeepster' and possibly 'The Motivator' for the Electric Warrior album. Bob Margouleff was the engineer.
"Then the group flew to Los Angeles for a gig at the Whisky-a-Go-Go," Visconti continues. "We hooked up with Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan, and I remember us having a lovely jam up at Howard's house in Laurel Canyon. We made plans to book Wally Heider's studio to cut a few tracks, including 'Get It On.' … Marc was a prolific songwriter. He had a lined schoolbook chock-full of lyrics and chord symbols. He would open the book at the beginning of an album, and then when we had enough tracks recorded-say, about 17-he'd close the book. 'Get It On' was just one of about 50 or 60 he had in the book at the time. When I first heard it, only the day before we recorded it, it sounded like a hit to me. At Howard's house, we were singing it for hours and banging things for percussion. We were totally vibed to record it the next day. I can still remember driving in a van with the band to Wally Heider's through freeways and unbearable sunshine-we all had the complexions of maggots, coming directly from gray London.
"The session was like any other T. Rex session. We had an engineer called Rick [Pekkonen] who was a very nice guy. Flo & Eddie recommended him and the studio. The drums were quickly set up, and we got sounds immediately. I was impressed with the speed of American engineers at that time; it was a much slower process in England. The recording started sometime in the middle of the afternoon. We cut 'Get It On' and two other tracks in a few hours. The group already knew the songs, and we had rehearsed backing vocals with Mark and Howard the previous day at Howard's. By 10 p.m., we were cutting the backing vocals. Flo & Eddie were self-starters-they could harmonize the phone book! My job with them was mainly to have enough tracks for them and to make sure we covered all the harmonic possibilities before they left. But everything was always done fairly quickly on T. Rex albums, because Marc wanted to keep costs down, an old habit from the days when we hardly had a decent budget to record.
At the time, Heider's was equipped with a custom console, a 16-track recorder, and "they had all my favorite mics," Visconti recalls, "dynamics for the drums, but U87s for the toms; I used to insist on that. We recorded the drums over three tracks. In those days, it was such a dilemma-do we record the kick on a separate track and the rest of the kit in stereo? Or should we record the snare on a separate track and record the kick in with the stereo kit? Should we record the kick and snare on separate tracks? I tried everything for Electric Warrior. Since we needed tracks for backing vocals, strings, horns and percussion, the drum configuration was a very important decision. In the end, we went with keeping the kick separate with the snare and the rest of the kit in stereo on 'Get It On.'
"From memory I can say that the bass guitar was probably coming off just the amp stack to one track," Visconti continues. "Marc's live guitar was recorded to one track from a mic in front of his Marshall. This track was used and not replaced, so the live groove was preserved. He overdubbed a second guitar playing groove parts and the short solos. Mickey Finn's two conga mics were mixed to one track. There was an open vocal mic in the room during tracking. Marc sang on some takes but didn't on the master take. We used this vocal mic for the final mix as an ambience mic. We used about four or five tracks for Flo & Eddie, with Marc joining them. I always used a U87 on vocals and backing vocals."
After the Heider's sessions, the group returned to England, and work on the song (and album) continued at Trident Studios, with Roy Thomas Baker engineering. Blue Weaver played grand piano on the track, and King Crimson's Ian McDonald is responsible for the honking sax line. "He played all the saxes, one baritone and two altos," Visconti says. "I kept the baritone separate but bounced the altos to one track. I bounced the backup vocals to two tracks, making an interesting stereo image."
Though Visconti usually plotted out his always-creative string arrangements well in advance of orchestral sessions, the simple-but-effective string part for "Bang A Gong" was an afterthought: "We didn't intend to put strings on 'Get It On,' but when I was writing arrangements for 'Cosmic Dancer' and the other titles with strings, I felt maybe I should have something ready for 'Get It On,' just in case. At the session, I reminded Marc that our first two hits had strings on them and maybe we should continue the trend. Superstitiously, he agreed. All I had written out were the notes G-A-E, as whole notes over the chords of the chorus. We did those first and realized it was icing on the cake! There was no need to write any more for an already dense track. It took about ten minutes."
As for outboard effects on the record, Visconti notes that "Trident had the usual effects available in those days-basically a bank of compressors and two EMT plates. We did our tight slapbacks and phasing with three tape recorders at the mixing stage, with someone in the band or the tape assistant slowly sweeping the VCO. There will never be a digital box that phases and flanges as well as the original method, because that method would technically process before and after the signal, crossing the 'node,' whereas a modern phase program only processes after the signal. There are many instruments treated this way on Electric Warrior. Ambience was our only other 'effect.' I'd often record guitars and hand claps from a microphone about 10 feet from the source, aimed at the studio window, in cardioid mode. I was never a fan of hitting analog tape very hard-to me it always sounded better live; the playback was always a disappointment."
[END OF EXCERPTED SESSION NOTES]
This first video has a really bad mix, and seems to be an early version of the song.
This is the released version of the song, with really bad lip syncing in the video. Remember, MTV was not even a concept. To make music videos was rare.
I love this live version from 1973. Check out the black girls – they own those mics. Screaming! One girl has hair bigger than a medicine ball. Marc goes wild with early ‘70s stage presence. It’s funny that the performance is for a studio audience – Marc clearly seems to be playing to a stadium.
This video is from 1972. This performance is to a larger crowd. The video itself comes from the 2007 Rexmania festival. Video bad, audio good.
Well you're dirty and sweet
Clad in black, don't look back, and I love you
You're dirty and sweet oh yeah
Well you're slim and you're weak
You got the teeth of the hydra upon you
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Well you're built like a car
You got a hubcap diamond star halo
You're built like a car oh yeah
Well you're an untamed youth
That's the truth
With your cloak full of eagles
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Well you're windy and wild
You got the blues
In your shoes and your stockings
You're windy and wild oh yeah
You're built like a car
You got a hubcap diamond star halo
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Well you're dirty and sweet
Clad in black, don't look back, and I love you
You're dirty and sweet oh yeah
Well you dance when you walk
So let's dance, take a chance, understand me
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, right on
Take me
Meanwhile I'm still thinkin'
I posted one of the four videos below before (Cadilac). I can’t find any details on this session, but sometime in 1972, T-Rex brought the cameras into the studio. These four videos are all I can find right now. I love studio work like this – no heavy mixing or masking, no overdubs or piecing together different takes. Just music.
The point of this post is the performance, but if you want lyrics, here’s a master site for Marc’s stuff.
Hot Love
Jeepster
Telegram Sam
Cadilac
From David Bowie's album, "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars," is a song way too personal to discuss, Lady Stardust. The subject of the lyrics is Marc Bolan. Someone put together this video. I just stared at the screen as it played. No words.
People stared at the makeup on his face
Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace
The boy in the bright blue jeans
Jumped up on the stage
And lady stardust sang his songs
Of darkness and disgrace
[CHORUS]
And he was alright, the band was altogether
Yes he was alright, the song went on forever
And he was awful nice
Really quite out of sight
([second time:] really quite paradise)
And he sang all night long
Femme fatales emerged from shadows
To watch this creature fair
Boys stood upon their chairs
To make their point of view
I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey
Lady Stardust sang his songs
Of darkness and dismay
[CHORUS]
Oh how I sighed
When they asked if I knew his name
[CHORUS]
Get some pussy now!
O God
High in your fields above earth
Come and be real for us
You with your mind
Oh yes you are
Beautifully fine
O Girl
Electric witch you are
Limp in society's ditch you are
Visually fine
Oh yes you are
But mentally dying
O boy
Just like a boat you are
Sunk but somehow you float you do
Mentally weak
Oh yes you are
But so much speak
Logic games. 2 + 2 = 5, for particularly high values of 2. Is that logic or merely understanding the difference beginning truncating and formatting, or perhaps that engineers abhor truncation? If you are scared half to death two times without opportunity for recovery in between, do you die? Logic or assuming a fact not in evidence, ergo, one cannot literally be scared half to death.
What passes for logic in this world is oftentimes specious. Did you know that “oftentimes” is a word? Why shouldn’t it be, eh? “Sometimes” is ok; “anytime” is fine. I think oftentimes will become my new favorite word. I will use it in sentences oftentimes.
Come to think of it, “often” is pretty cool. Sounds soft, like a pussy cat. This is from the Online Etymology Dictionary: c.1300, extended form of oft (q.v.), originally before vowels and h-, probably by infl. of M.E. selden "seldom." In common use from 16c., replacing oft. Extended form oftentimes is attested from c.1430.
I used a word that is coming up on 600 years old. I am so proud of myself.
I knew it! I was having a conversation with my twin last night and the topic of the etymology of “snot” arose – or rather, shot out. I suspected that it was shortened from another word (you reading this?). Ta da! But before I stand too tall, I did believe that perhaps it was rooted in the expulsion of an object, and was shortened and applied to that which was expelled. But I was partially right! O.E. gesnot "nasal mucus," from P.Gmc. *snuttan (cf. O.Fris. snotta, M.L.G., M.Du. snotte, M.L.G. snute), from the same base as snout. O.E. also had a verb snite "wipe or pick one's nose." Meaning "despicable person" is from 1809. Snotty "impudent, curt, conceited" first recorded 1870; snotnose "upstart" is from 1941.
Funny how language lingers. Old English, “gesnot.” And today, “What’s that?!” “Oh, jus’ snot.” Remarkable.
I love the word, “cellar”: c.1225, from O.Fr. celer, from L. cellarium "pantry, storeroom," lit. "group of cells," from L. cella. I read a long, long time ago that “cellar door” is the most melodic phrase in the English language. I don’t know if that is true, but I have adopted it. Beautiful phrase.
I remember being at work when I in my mid-20s. This girl who worked with me – nice enough, probably a good person, but we just annoyed each other terribly – her last name was Moreno. I remember a VP had her name in a doc and spellchecked it. He laughed a little too loudly and said, “Hey, the closest word to ‘Moreno’ is ‘moron’!” I really don’t think anyone else heard it, and he was a very nice guy just finding humor in it. I laughed at the symmetry. Yeah, I was young and northern.
Moron: 1910, from Gk. (Attic) moron, neut. of moros "foolish, dull" (probably cognate with Skt. murah "idiotic;" L. morus "foolish" is a loan-word from Gk.). Adopted by the American Association for the Study of the Feeble-minded with a technical definition "adult with a mental age between 8 and 12;" used as an insult since 1922 and subsequently dropped from technical use. Linnæus had introduced morisis "idiocy."
Boy, coin the word one year, and twelve years later the northerners get their hands on it. I never realized how fundamental the Mason-Dixon Line was to a well-lived life until recently.
Speaking of being from the north, I learned the other day that you’re not supposed to say “butt” in front of strangers. Go figure! I mean, it was a nurse in a proctologist’s office. It wasn’t like I said, “Would you stick that in my butt?” Or, “Does my butt look fat in these jeans?” Nothing like that. Well, come to think of it, it was a variant of the first one. OK. Some things I just have to accept. I’m learning.
Been drifting back to Marc Bolan lately. Thirty years ago next month he ate a tree at some nasty-fast speed. Glam rock. What a great period in my life. I really enjoy the videos on you tube – search on t rex.
Got things to do. Later.
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