T. Rex’s “Life’s a Gas”: A Soft Whisper from the Glam Frontier
Close your eyes and drift back to the autumn of 1971, when the world shimmered with sequins and dreams, and T. Rex’s “Life’s a Gas” glowed quietly on their seminal album Electric Warrior, released September 24, 1971, on Fly Records in the UK and Reprise in the US. It wasn’t a charting single—“Get It On” (No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100) and “Jeepster” stole that thunder—but Electric Warrior hit No. 1 in the UK and No. 32 stateside, selling over 500,000 copies for gold status. For those of us who let that LP spin on our bedroom turntables, “Life’s a Gas” is a tender keepsake—a fleeting sigh from Marc Bolan that still hums in the corners of our hearts, a relic of a time when life felt both infinite and fleeting.
The story of “Life’s a Gas” is a quiet spark in Bolan’s electric blaze. Written amidst the Electric Warrior sessions at Trident Studios, London, it flowed from his pen in a reflective moment—June ’71, with producer Tony Visconti capturing its raw simplicity. Bolan’s acoustic strum led the way, backed by Mickey Finn’s gentle percussion, Steve Currie’s understated bass, and Bill Legend’s soft shuffle—no flash, just feeling. It was a stark contrast to the album’s glitzy anthems, a folk echo of his Tyrannosaurus Rex days slipped into glam’s velvet folds. Never a single—just track eight—it was Bolan unwrapped, his voice a fragile thread weaving a thought too precious for the spotlight, yet too real to fade.
What’s it mean? “Life’s a Gas” is a bittersweet musing on existence—“I could have loved you girl, like a planet,” Bolan croons, soft and wistful, “but it really doesn’t matter at all, life’s a gas.” It’s not despair—it’s acceptance, a shrug at love lost and time’s relentless tick, wrapped in a hope that “it’ll be alright.” For us who’ve weathered years, it’s the sound of ’71’s gentle nights—the rustle of a denim jacket, the glow of a candle stub, the taste of tea gone cold as we pondered life’s big questions on a shag rug. It’s a song that held us when we felt small, a reminder that even the fleeting was beautiful.
This was T. Rex at their soulful hinge—Bolan balancing glitter and grit, crafting a classic that birthed glam’s golden age. Electric Warrior ruled, and “Life’s a Gas” lingered—covered by Lou Reed, a nod to its quiet power. For us, it’s a sepia frame—the hum of a VW van’s engine, the crackle of a late-night radio, the feel of a world tilting toward something new. “Life’s a Gas” didn’t shout—it sighed, and we leaned in. So, lift that needle, let it play, and sink back into a moment when life was a gas—and we believed it could be.