Marc Bolan was a weirdo. I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. Before he was the glitter-smeared face of glam rock, he was a pixie-like folk singer sitting cross-legged on the floor, singing about druids and unicorns. Most people remember him for the boogie-rock riffs of "Bang a Gong (Get It On)," but the man’s catalog is a sprawling, psychedelic maze. That’s exactly why AngelHeaded Hipster: The Songs of Marc Bolan exists. It’s not just another "greatest hits" cash grab. It is a massive, weird, and deeply emotional deconstruction of one of rock’s most underrated songwriters.
Honestly, tribute albums usually suck. They’re often stale, karaoke-style versions of songs you already love. But this project was the final labor of love from Hal Willner, the legendary Saturday Night Live music producer who died from COVID-19 just before its release. Willner didn’t want a tribute; he wanted a "reimagining." He treated Bolan’s work like the Great American Songbook—as compositions that could survive being stretched into jazz, avant-garde pop, or desolate ballads.
The Haunting Legacy of Hal Willner’s Final Project
Hal Willner was a guy who specialized in "musical what-ifs." He’s the one who thought putting Todd Rundgren on a Thelonious Monk tribute was a good idea (it was). For AngelHeaded Hipster: The Songs of Marc Bolan, he spent years pulling together a cast that looks like a fever dream: Nick Cave, Kesha, U2, Peaches, and even Joan Jett.
He didn't just record these songs in one studio. Sessions happened in New York, London, Paris, and New Orleans. Willner referred to this as his "White Album." He wanted to prove that Bolan wasn't just a "glam" star—a label that often gets dismissed as style over substance—but a world-class composer.
Tragically, Willner passed away in April 2020. The album became a double tribute: one for the shimmering legacy of Marc Bolan and another for the "ringleader" who brought all these disparate voices together. When you listen to the record now, there’s this underlying layer of melancholy that you can’t quite shake.
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Standout Tracks: What Actually Works?
Look, 26 tracks is a lot. Not every single one hits the mark, but when it does, it’s magic.
Nick Cave’s "Cosmic Dancer" is arguably the centerpiece. If you’re used to the T. Rex original—which is already pretty poignant—Cave takes it to a place that feels like a funeral at 3:00 AM. It’s stripped back, orchestral, and emphasizes the surrealist poetry of the lyrics. It makes you realize that Bolan was writing about the cycle of life and death while everyone else was focused on his velvet trousers.
Then you’ve got Kesha doing "Children of the Revolution." People forget she can actually sing. She’s joined by Wayne Kramer of the MC5 on guitar and Bolan’s own son, Rolan Bolan, on backing vocals. It’s loud, it’s brassy, and it keeps that "T. Rextasy" energy alive.
- Lucinda Williams brings a gravelly, Americana soul to "Life’s a Gas."
- Father John Misty does a surprisingly faithful but lush version of "Main Man."
- Peaches turns "Solid Gold, Easy Action" into a gritty, electro-clash stomp.
- U2 and Elton John (yes, really) team up for a version of "Bang a Gong" that’s a bit divisive but undeniably a "moment."
What’s cool is how the album explores the Tyrannosaurus Rex era—the early, acoustic stuff. Devendra Banhart covering "Scenescof" is a perfect match. Banhart basically lived the life Bolan was singing about in 1968, so hearing him handle those "fairytale" lyrics feels authentic rather than forced.
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Why Marc Bolan Still Matters in 2026
It’s easy to look back at the early 70s and see a bunch of guys in platform boots. But Bolan was the bridge. He was the guy who took the hippie idealism of the 60s and sharpened it into something sexy, dangerous, and pop-oriented. He influenced everyone from David Bowie (they were famously rivals and friends) to the punk movement.
Bolan’s songwriting was "garage" in its simplicity but "baroque" in its imagery. He’d sing about driving a Rolls Royce because it was "good for his verse." He was a poet who happened to have a Marshall stack. AngelHeaded Hipster: The Songs of Marc Bolan strips away the glitter and shows you the bones of those songs.
There’s also a documentary of the same name directed by Ethan Silverman. It’s a bit of a hybrid—part biography, part "making-of" for the album. If you’re a casual fan, the archival footage of Bolan is worth the watch alone. You see him falling off a stage during a jam with Bowie, which was actually his last televised performance. It’s haunting stuff.
How to Listen to This Beast of an Album
Don't try to power through all 26 songs in one sitting while you're doing chores. You'll miss the nuances. This is a "headphones on, lights low" kind of record.
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- Start with the "Vibe" Tracks: Listen to Nick Cave and Lucinda Williams first to get a sense of how the songs can be slowed down.
- Move to the Rockers: Throw on Kesha and Joan Jett ("Jeepster") to see how Bolan’s boogie still holds up.
- Dig into the Weirdness: Check out the Sean Lennon and Charlotte Kemp Muhl cover of "Mambo Sun." It’s trippy and captures that weird Bolan-esque swagger perfectly.
Making It Real: Your Next Steps
If you want to actually appreciate AngelHeaded Hipster: The Songs of Marc Bolan, you need to hear the source material first. You can't appreciate a deconstruction if you don't know the construction.
Go back and listen to the Electric Warrior and The Slider albums. They are the twin peaks of T. Rex. Once those riffs are burned into your brain, come back to this tribute album. You’ll hear how Beth Orton or Todd Rundgren twisted the melodies you thought you knew.
If you're a vinyl collector, try to find the 2LP white vinyl edition. It’s a beautiful package and includes some great liner notes about Hal Willner’s process. It’s a fitting tombstone for a producer who spent his life making sure we never forgot the geniuses who came before us.