"Bang a Gong (Get It On)" (T. Rex)

I remember staying up really late one night in 5th grade, taping music videos off Night Tracks, this cheesy 80s show on Superstation TBS that played both new and old videos.
A little context for my geekery: my awesome 5th grade teacher was always doing fun projects with our class and giving us incentives to study hard.  There were the mammoth things she did, like the 300-mile field trip to a historical site that she organized, and the original rap that she wrote about the events leading up to the American Revolution so that we could remember key dates and names.  (Awesome, right?)  But there also were tons of smaller things.  For instance, this one time, she rewarded us with a free period to watch music videos because we'd all passed a big test (spelling, I think).  But because our elementary school didn't have cable T.V. and, therefore, no MTV, the only way to pull off a music video-viewing party was for someone to volunteer to bootleg stuff off T.V. at home and then bring the tape to school.  So I volunteered.  (Actually, it was more like "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Mrs. Wetli, can I do it, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?")
Anyway, it's May 1989, and I'm sitting in my living room with my parents at 1 a.m. on a Saturday night, filling up a videotape with all of this late-80s schlock off Night Tracks—stuff I can't believe we ever listened to (Debbie Gibson, Bobby Brown, Great White, Tone Loc, Bon Jovi, etc.).  Suddenly, here comes this video of an impish dude in bright pink pants with glitter on his face, tearing through this riff that sounded like something ripped from the Chuck Berry songs my dad listened to, only raunchier.  
I remember my mom drowsily saying, "Mike, this is from when I was in high school.  You probably want to stop the tape."  But I just let the tape roll as this diminutive rocker sang about teeth of the hydra upon you and hubcap diamond star halos.  By the time he reached that first chorus (Get it on / Bang a gong / Get it on!), I had no clue what he was singing about, but I was completely entranced.
In my gut, I knew that my classmates would want to fast-forward through it (and that premonition ultimately came true).  But I didn't care.  I knew I was an oddball with my own unique tastes*, and I wanted to have this song on tape.  Something about that glittery elf and his overdriven guitar resonated with me.  
Still does.

(*From about 1987-1991, I wore my hair in this mini-fro/pompadour thing.  God help me, I was trying for a MacGyver mullet.  My neighbor Ben had convinced me that all I had to do was wet my hair, brush it back, and then wait for it to air dry.  When Ben tried that, he ended up looking like a mini Richard Dean Anderson, for better or worse; however, when I tried it, I ended up looking like a cross between Eddie Munster and boxing promoter Don King.  But it made me 4 inches taller, so I wore my frizz with pride.)