The only singer David Bowie said beat him at his own game: “He brought glitter to the masses”
History thinks of David Bowie as an originator, and as the originator, it’s tough to think of an artist quite so unique and singular as him.
There was no keeping up as he evolved swiftly from thing to thing, nor was there any meeting him on his level, as anytime anyone else came close, he was already onto the next thing, leaving them to look like cheap imitations.
There’s plenty of them around, though, as from the moment Bowie had any success, up popped a whole pack of copycats. He left a trail of them behind, following him through every era, as still today you have your wanna-be Major Toms, your wanna-be Ziggy Stardusts, your Aladdin Sanes and so on. Countless artists have spent their whole career trying to come as close to Bowie’s sexy, sleazy Thin White Duke era, packing their tracks with that Americana-toned nostalgic feeling, but never as successful as he did.
You even have copycats for his more niche eras, as plenty of artists see his Berlin trilogy as both a bible and a blueprint, trying their best to emulate a moment in his career that came as a kind of desperate happy accident.
Overwhelmingly, Bowie was one of one, as music history would say, however, the artist himself likely would have argued against it, claiming he was one of two, trailing behind as a copycat himself to the person that beat him to the mark.
In London, in the mid-1960s, Soho was the place to be, and scattered between Soho and Carnaby Street, gathered the musical crowd. Wander down Tin Pan Alley, and you’d often see two sparks sat together at a table outside La Giaconda. It was their favourite place, so when David Bowie and Marc Bolan hung out, that’s where they’d be.
At that point in time, they were hanging out a lot. Before their friendship broke into a somewhat complex rivalry, they were the best of friends, as Bowie said, “We were just two nothing kids with huge ambitions”. Both brimming with vast ideas, their friendship was forged out of coming together and sharing their dreams, recognising that spark in one another. “David always adored him,” Tony Visconti said of their friendship, and Bolan felt the same.
However, their shared dreams inevitably caused some tension. In the early 1970s, the two friends suddenly found themselves on very different playing fields as T Rex hit the big time with Electric Warrior in 1971, while Bowie was still figuring out his ‘70s style. He had the vision, saw all that glitter and glam in his mind, but then Bolan swooped in and did it first.
“Marc and I both knew we were going to do great things,” Bowie reflected, but when T Rex took off, the realisation hit as the Starman said, “He brought glitter to the masses and I thought, ‘No! He’s done it first!’” They were friends, so the race wasn’t quite so fierce or harsh, but there was obvious friction. “Boley struck it big, and we were all green with envy,” he said, admitting that they fell out for a while as his pioneering ego was bruised from being beaten.
