presents:

ROCK RAPS OF THE 70'S
MARC BOLAN FEBRUARY 29, 1972 INTERVIEW
PARK LANE HOTEL, NEW YORK CITY
BY WALLI ELMLARK
ISBN 87749-285-9 © 1972 DRAKE PUBLISHERS, INC.

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[Note: This rare interview has been reproduced on our site in response to inquiries about the February 27, 1972 T. Rex concert at Carnegie Hall in New York City. I tried to locate the author of this piece, former Circus magazine correspondent Walli Elmlark, both when I first purchased this book circa 1972 and again before publishing these excerpts on "Depth Charge!" in 2000. Both attempts were unsuccessful. Rock Raps of the 70's has been auctioned online in the past, so take note of the serial number listed above. If you are lucky enough to see this book anywhere, grab it! The story was preceded by the following poem, intriguingly located in the book across from a full page photo portrait of Jimi Hendrix.]

FOR MARC BOLAN

We are pioneering in an age that’s
just begun.
In a time of thought continuum and
space beyond the sun.
Where some acknowledge there’s
a spirit that is free
but most of the world are planes below
and therefore cannot see
To speak at them of Priestesses
and places just past Mars
is only wasting energies, so speak to them
of cars.
Speak to them of mortgages
and tax rises
while teaching them of mind power
in your "Pop Star" now disguise.
– Walli Elmlark



T. REX –
MARC BOLAN
COSMIC MESSENGER

I have had to meet hundreds of "pop" stars but it is a rare name that I can't wait to meet. Marc Bolan was one.

I had gotten a very definite impression of what Marc’s thinking would be like from listening to his lyrics. They are filled with allusions to wizards, priestesses, planet queens and other varied cosmic complexities.

Thus, it was quite a shock to hear his very close friend, Bernie Taupin, say, "Oh no! Marc’s nothing like that! His lyrics are just a lot of words. He’s a super space age put-on, that’s all."

I went home and listened to Marc’s album once more. I also listened to Bernie’s album, which is poetry set to music.

They are both poets, but in very different ways. It became more and more clear that although Bernie had in fact been Marc’s friend for years, there was a side of Marc that Bernie, along with millions of others, never had seen because it is outside of his realm of understanding.

The concept is so tremendous that it will take a great deal of time before the world is ready, but right now, all around you are the teachers, the forerunners, the guides that have already begun their work.

Jimi Hendrix is a prime example. It is amazing how each of these cosmic teachers at one point had an encounter with Jimi. It was almost as if he travelled the planet hand-picking his people before he returned to that place in time – "somewhere beyond Mars" – from which he came.

The Sunday night concert at Carnegie Hall was a disaster. There seemed nothing at all special about Marc, or the group.

It wasn’t until later that evening that I was to learn that the monitors had blown and the group couldn’t hear what they were playing. The evening was also hampered by other small but unsettling inconveniences. Marc’s guitars were pushed over and knocked out of tune.

Three girls jumped the guards and chased the group all over the stage like a Laurel and Hardy movie.

Marc would have said someone put the finger on him. It was just a bad night.

I had an interview scheduled for the following Tuesday, but was determined to meet Marc that night.

Some might say it was coincidental that his promotion people spotted me, and I was invited to a party at his hotel that night, but Marc and I both know that there is no such thing as coincidence.

The small gathering – you could hardly call it a party – was quiet and down because of the bad concert. I didn’t try to talk to Marc; I sat in a corner and watched him.

Again, there seemed nothing extraordinary about him. Perhaps I had been drastically wrong in my opinion of him. Tuesday would tell.



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