This fan-zine article, originally published in "Words And Music", was unique since it was written from the American perspective. Marc Bolan's mood was upbeat and jovial; he was looking forward to an eventual success in America that, when all was said and done, would only be his in terms of influence on future musicians.
Beside the text, you'll see an occasional 
icon; this is where I've made some "scrawlings in the margin" - basically, thoughts I've added while transcribing the article nearly 30 years after being written. Click on
the icon if you want to read them; otherwise, enjoy the article as it was originally written.
- Robert
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and
"I want to give every childe the chance to dance..."
- or -
Love T. Rex
by Bruce Harris
appeared in January '73 issue of "Words and Music" magazine
published 1972, Poppy Press, New York
(now out of business)
There will never be another one
who can do the things you do,
Oh, give a little chance,
Try a little try
Please stop and you'll remember
We were together anyway..."
("Shaman's Blues", Jim Morrison 1969)
("Childe", Marc Bolan 1971)
Meanwhile, back at the boogie, Bolan is upstairs, locked away in a room with a trio of Aretha Franklin's backup singers, teaching them the words to "Chariot Choogle":
and take their chances on crashing the way they had a few months
back at Carnegie Hall, they decided to get Arethas's soul sisters for protection. The idea was for the Carnegie Hall fiasco never to happen again. The idea was to capture America.Just before the group came out on stage, two gigantic pasteboard cut-out photos of Bolan freaking out on his guitar descended from the rafters at both sides of the stage. Everyone cheers. Our satin savior is on his way, sliding into our souls. There he is - twenty-five feet tall, not once, but twice, a duo of dinosaurs, a true Tyrannosaurus.
The band rushes on stage. Shrieks from the audience. Anywhere in Europe, Bolan's appearance creates emotional havoc in the heart of every teen-child within sliding distance. But New York merely screams. "Chariot Choogle" begins with Bolan poking out a tight, dancey riff on his guitar. The bassist seems out of tune, the drummer out of tempo, Mickey Finn out of his mind, and the three singers seem to have forgotten the words. Neither they nor Bolan seem perturbed by any of this.