Work in Progress #4: T.Rex - Metal Guru

Tomorrow is the 40th anniversary of Marc Bolan's tragically early death. I've written frequently about Bolan's massive influence on several aspects of my life and will no doubt do so again, but for now it's all about the music. Today I'm extremely honoured to have had an Imaginary T.Rex Compilation Album published over at The (New) Vinyl Villain and would like to offer my huge thanks to JC for shuffling his posts around to fit mine in, particularly as I was so very late in getting it across to him! For the purposes of the ICA I deliberately avoided the hits, but for the latest instalment of my Work in Progress series I've gone for T.Rex's 4th and final No.1 smash, 'Metal Guru'. It's interesting to note that the acoustic studio demo of 'Metal Guru' bears an uncanny resemblance to 'Lady', which originally appeared on it's b-side, though all similarities fades when the full might of Bolan & Tony Visconti's 'T.Rex Treatment' is layered across the track, which includes backing vocals courtesy of Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan of The Turtles.

T.Rex - Metal Guru (Demo)

T.Rex - Metal Guru

The Slider at 45

There had been singles, lots of them, but until then, any LPs that came my way were borrowed ones, hastily taped on my portable cassette player via a handheld mic, before being returned to their rightful owner at school the following day. On July 21st 1972, 45 years ago today, 'The Slider' by T.Rex was released. Three weeks later I bought a copy of the LP while on holiday in Dorset - I was 12 years old. Many hundreds of LP's have passed into and out of my hands since then, but that very first one is still with me - and shall forever be. It all started here.

In the Summer of 2015, I had the great good fortune to meet Tony Visconti, the producer of 'The Slider' (not to mention several other cornerstones of my record collection). I stuck out my hand, gripped his, shook it warmly and said 'Thank you',  twice. 'What for?' he asked, smiling broadly. 'Everything', I said.

T.Rex - Rock On

From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads, Part 2 of 2

One evening after school in 1971, a pal played me 'Get It On' by T.Rex. I was 11 years old at the time and when I listened to the record it was as if a black and white curtain had been pulled aside, to reveal a vivid technicolour world beyond. It was a personal musical revelation. A life-changing moment.

So I've had roughly 44 years to consider what I might say, should I one day be lucky enough to meet Tony Visconti, the producer of 'Get It On' and of many subsequent records that ended up in my collection. I had a close call once, on a bitingly cold Winter afternoon in mid-1990's New York, when we passed each other on the street. We were both wrapped up against the fierce sub-zero winds so that our faces were only partially visible, but I recognised him instantly and also instantly decided that I wasn't going to disturb him in those hostile circumstances. I've quietly regretted that decision ever since.


On Wednesday evening (after this show) I found myself in a queue, edging ever closer to Tony Visconti, who was seated signing autographs a few feet away. I had just a couple of minutes of those 44 years left to decide what words I could possibly use to, A) adequately summarise what a profound effect the music he's produced has had on my life, and B) not sound like a gushing buffoon.


As I drew level with him, Tony looked up, smiled and said 'Hello'. This was my moment. 'Do you mind if I shake your hand?' I said. His smile broadened as he gripped my hand firmly. Quite suddenly I knew exactly what I should say. I didn't need a to make a grand statement or sweeping gesture to encapsulate the years of pleasure this man's work had given me. The solution was far simpler and more obvious than that.

'Thank you', I said, shaking his hand warmly and blinking back the stinging in my eyes. 'Thank you.'

From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads, Part 1 of 2

To begin an LP with a song as ambitious in scale as 'The Width of a Circle' is, at the very least, a bold statement of intent. For an ad-hoc band to attempt to cover said LP 45 years later and thus open their set with 'The Width of a Circle' must surely take nerves of steel. At the Norwich Arts Centre on Wednesday, the song was nailed to perfection. It was the first of many. The evening was billed, snappily, as 'Tony Visconti & Woody Woodmansey with Glenn Gregory (Heaven 17) perform David Bowie's The Man Who Sold the World album and another set of classic Bowie songs from 1969-73', and did pretty much what it said on the tin.

The big draws were obviously Woodmansey and Visconti, although the 10 piece band each played their part in impeccably recreating every nuance of the original arrangements of the songs, all of which were welcomed like much loved old friends by the packed audience. To his immense credit, Glenn Gregory did not, at any point, attempt to 'do a Bowie', instead interpreting each song faithfully in his own voice and manner. And some of those songs are hard! Many of us could probably mumble our way through a passable 'Man Who Sold the World', but next time you're in the shower have a go at 'The Supermen' or 'Saviour Machine' or 'She Shook Me Cold'. Gregory did a faultless job on the whole lot.

The second half of the set featured 'Time', 'Changes', 'Life on Mars' and no less than 7 selections from 'Ziggy Stardust', including a blistering reading of 'Moonage Daydream', a real highlight of the evening. I briefly met Woody after the show and he was pleased with my observation that the pure joy of playing those wonderful songs was evident to everyone and literally poured from the stage. The show lasted two hours, it felt like 10 minutes. A great night.

Flip It! #4 - Dib Cochran & the Earwigs

Off the top of my head, I can only remember ever meeting a mere handful of my youthful prog-rock heroes in the flesh, usually while bagging post-gig autographs in the 1970s. One, who shall remain nameless, was, disappointingly, an utter arse, the combined membership of Van Der Graaf Generator were very amiable and Rick Wakeman, who was friendly and extremely funny.

A couple of evenings ago, round at our local petrol station, I was surprised to see Rick Wakeman walk across the forecourt in front of me, from the shop back to his car. I've no idea what might have brought him out to my neck of the woods, but was suddenly taken with the urge to go over and renew our brief acquaintance of nearly 40 years earlier. Halfway out of the car, though, I changed my mind. What could I possibly say to him that would justify invading his privacy?

In retrospect, perhaps I could've quizzed him about his involvement in a short-lived group, Dib Cochran & the Earwigs, which also featured Tony Visconti on bass and vocals, drummer John Cambridge (from the band Juniors Eyes) and a certain Marc Bolan on guitar. Dib Cochran & the Earwigs issued one single, 'Oh Baby', in September 1970, a month before T.Rex released 'Ride a White Swan'. What if 'Ride a White Swan had bombed? What if 'Oh Baby' had been the hit? The 1970s might have been a very different place.

The b-side of 'Oh Baby', a short instrumental sketch entitled 'Universal Love', features Rick to the fore.