Tyrannosaurus Rex, T. Rex, Whatever

Marc Bolan and Mickey Finn (who later became percussionist of the T.Rex incarnation) put out an album named "A Beard of Stars" in 1971, back before Bolan was wearing top hats and sequined three-piece suits.

37 years later, I got my hands on it during a random music trade with my friend Drew just when San Francisco's sun was coming out again; ever since the entire album has become emblematic of new light and nighttime mists of spring in the city. I can't let go of it--I haven't stopped listening to it since playing "Elemental Child" on my radio show a couple of weeks ago and TRULY hearing to how much it grooves.

All the songs are gentle little ballad-gems about the love in this dazzling universe of ours (perhaps a lot more dazzling when Bolan & Finn were sitting around in fields writing them). Song titles like "Dragon's Ear" and "Wind Cheetah" are whimsical glimpses into the far-out, dream-studded brain of Bolan.

From the very first song, "Prelude", a minimalist, languid electric guitar instrumental punctuated by Finn's hand chimes chirping, the album feels like a call for a gathering of the tribes, a greeting to fellow folkies and flower children who also made it into the strange, new decade of the 70s.

My favorite is "By the Light of the Magical Moon", a mini manifesto about forest life and playing under a sky full of possibilities strummed out acoustically and layered under an electric guitar drawl (it almost sounds like they're talking to eachother) and bongos; "Wind Cheetah" is a lovelorn dirge laden with droning organs, its lyrics reading like a mystical poem about losing a fragile lover to evil forces shrouded in the dark of night.

"Elemental Child", another bright spot, is a purely-electric number that Bolan's dirty boots stomp all over. Glimpses of his nascent glam-rock vision and experimentation can be heard in the careful use of reverb between the verses of this seemingly innocent folk song. The lyrics are medievally surreal couplets: "Torch girl of the marshes/Her kiss is a whip of the moon/Dawn's damsels are dancing/To the hum of her sunny young tune" and "Gems hemmed in the heart's head/The shield of the rivers is hers/She once told me to think white/And the night disappeared like a bird. His meandering phrasing and quavering falsetto gives way to an all-out jam that picks up speed with furious strumming and classic Bolan riffs and bends.

It's with this album closer that you can tell Bolan is approaching the feet of the glam-rock gods to offer his vision and musical heart, ready to ascend as creator and innovator of the new movement that would become glam rock.