In 1966, a talent manager called two young British singers to his London office. Their mission? To paint the office's interior to earn some extra money.
One singer was named Mark Feld. The other, Davy Jones. For the next few hours, the two whitewashed the walls and shared their visions for becoming pop stars
Within six years, the two singers achieved their visions: Mark Feld as Marc Bolan, the front man for the insanely popular glam rock band T. Rex, and Davy Jones as the reinvented prince of androgyny, David Bowie.
Today, David Bowie is an icon. Marc Bolan is a footnote. Why?
One could blame Bolan's death in an auto accident in 1977 at age 30. But early deaths cemented the reputations of Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon. Plus, it was clear two years before his death that Bolan was on his way to being largely forgotton (other than by die-hard T. Rex fans ... like me).
Bolan found a sucessful formula -- to ransack melodic phrases and guitar riffs from 1950s rock and roll, update them with 1970s technology, and lace the results with clever if shallow lyrics -- and stuck with it. His formula worked for almost four years of what the London papers called T-Rextasy. Bolan sold 100,000 records in one day. But after four years, the audience moved on. Bolan didn't.
Bowie, on the other hand, remained in a perpetual state of reinvention. He discarded his breakthrough persona -- Ziggy Stardust -- just 18 months after emerging as a pop star. Over the next three decades, he experimented with styles that included rock, Philadelphia soul, German-influenced electronica, ambient, industrial, classical, adult contemporary, and bass-and-drum.
Bolan focused on one idea until it played out, and failed to move on; Bowie shifted his focus well before he exhausted any idea, practicing creative destruction as both an artistic and business strategy.
Today, despite releasing his last studio album almost a decade ago, Bowie remains both artistly relevant and financially sound. His recordings find new audiences with each new generation of listeners.
Bolan has found some new life as a music source for both advertising ("20th Century Boy") and feature films ("Jeepster"). But you can say the same for Bachman-Turner Overdrive.
The difference between Bolan and Bowie was purely Darwinian. Bowie learned to adapt to his environment; Bolan didn't.
Bolan found a sucessful formula -- to ransack melodic phrases and guitar riffs from 1950s rock and roll, update them with 1970s technology, and lace the results with clever if shallow lyrics -- and stuck with it. His formula worked for almost four years of what the London papers called T-Rextasy. Bolan sold 100,000 records in one day. But after four years, the audience moved on. Bolan didn't.
Bowie, on the other hand, remained in a perpetual state of reinvention. He discarded his breakthrough persona -- Ziggy Stardust -- just 18 months after emerging as a pop star. Over the next three decades, he experimented with styles that included rock, Philadelphia soul, German-influenced electronica, ambient, industrial, classical, adult contemporary, and bass-and-drum.
Bolan focused on one idea until it played out, and failed to move on; Bowie shifted his focus well before he exhausted any idea, practicing creative destruction as both an artistic and business strategy.
Today, despite releasing his last studio album almost a decade ago, Bowie remains both artistly relevant and financially sound. His recordings find new audiences with each new generation of listeners.
Bolan has found some new life as a music source for both advertising ("20th Century Boy") and feature films ("Jeepster"). But you can say the same for Bachman-Turner Overdrive.
The difference between Bolan and Bowie was purely Darwinian. Bowie learned to adapt to his environment; Bolan didn't.
