Meanwhile, hippie-gumbo folkie Marc Bolan was reconsidering his elfin image, and David Bowie was fumbling for one of his own. So were a bunch of others who didn't quite fit in with rock's prevailing spirit of po-faced, earth-toned self-indulgence. Skinhead group Slade started wearing platforms and silver lamé and emphasizing the stomp in their primitive beats. Although Steve Marriott split from Small Faces to interminably abuse his guitar in Humble Pie, the rest of the group tightened their songs, loosened their chops, and rolled around the stage in satin. Humble singer-songwriter Elton John leapt onto his piano and replaced his National-Health wire frames with windscreen wipers. Roy Wood painted his face. Suzi Quatro painted on a leather catsuit. Herefordshire toughs Mott the Hoople pretended they were gay. Freddie Mercury strutted it like he shrieked it. The pizazz was back.
Mark Paytress surveys this scene in his new book Glam! When Superstars ROCKed the World, 1970-74. The interesting take away from his book is how organically such a seemingly inorganic movement began and how isolated the artists seemed to be from one other. There doesn't seem to be much collective decision making or cross-influence, just a bunch of rock and rollers getting fed up with an increasingly boring scene all at once and giving it a glittery shot in the arm. If Marc Bolan hadn't positioned himself as all of these artists' rival, and Bowie hadn't provided Mott with their key (and Bolan-referencing) anthem, there wouldn't be much of a sense of scene at all. So Paytress's story tends to jump from artist to artist without necessarily weaving them together into some sort of fabulous lamé quilt. But that's fine since the artists and their individual personalities and stories are so consistently interesting. Glam! is also supported with lots of fabulous color images of these artists, because a book about Glam without pictures would be like a T. Rex record without hooks.
