:: Buy Now: $29.98
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For T. Rex fans and British rock lovers in general, Born To Boogie is one of those holy grails: many have heard the legends, but few have actually seen it. Produced and directed in 1972 by Ringo Starr (one of the few Apple Films productions), the 65-minute rock documentary was hard to see in any form after its original release, which never even happened in the U.S. Now, after a seemingly exhaustive restoration process, this two-disc special edition features not only the original film, with digitally restored picture and 5.1 sound remixed from the original 16-track masters, but also the two original concerts re-edited (by Stewart Reid) in their entirety, two new documentaries featuring Bolan's son Rolan, scads of outtakes, rare early footage of Bolan on British TV, and a fat booklet. Zowie!
Considering that Born To Boogie is basically the only document of live T. Rex at their peak, a hearty recommendation seems almost unnecessary. Every claim about Bolan's impish, seductive stage presence is confirmed here, putting this in at least the top 20 of all rock concert films. It vacuum-packs T.Rex's stomping proto-glitter pop and the furor ("T.Rexstacy") it caused in an almost timeless state.
On the other hand, this package is so thorough it reveals weaknesses both in the subject and document. On record, T. Rex were always somewhat enigmatic; even if you knew about Bolan's cutesy self-obsession, it was hard to know how much the remaining band mattered. On stage herein, it's obvious T. Rex were a case of one near-genius surrounding himself with mediocrity (those who lament The White Stripes' Jack White not replacing drummer Meg, consider the problem in triplicate). Utterly superfluous conga player Mickey Finn must have been the most seriously oblivious man in rock 'n' roll, and some mic-stand trouble suggests even Bolan's roadie wasn't up to snuff! When, mid-film, the group jams in the Apple studio with Ringo and Elton John, the difference is palpable—particularly on an unusual version of "Children Of The Revolution" (all the more pity that Bolan and Elton never seriously collaborated).
As for the film, director Starr took a nicely arranged five-camera concert shoot (before 20,000 predominantly female fans brought in to Empire Pool Wembley on budget tickets) and added some not-very-planned surrealistic and whimsical vignettes, plus the aforementioned Apple jam—all for some reason co-starring himself. The two re-edited concerts (the first of which wasn't even used until now) and random outtakes reveal how much Starr could have gained from a more judicious editor.
Which means that, Apple jam excepted, the real treasures here are those whole concerts. Regarding the documentaries, the one on the band and the film is annoyingly breathless and repetitive (likewise Mark Paytress' booklet text), while the other, on the film and sound restoration, is briskly informative and fascinating. Starr's participation in this DVD debut is also oddly absent.
But enough of my crankin'. Aspiring rockers, boogaloo boys and girls, go ahead and hit that "buy now" button. This one's not to be missed.
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