Well, in that case, allow me to ramble some on a related tangent
It seems to me that Roy Wood personifies the art school/pub dichotomy that carves up that weird space of proto-metal and proto-glam that made it big in the UK in the wake of '68 and all that. It's a weird zone in UK rock/pop. You've got Noddy Holder stuck in the pub with Ozzy, and you've got Eno and Ferry at the other pole, trading textbooks.
Furthermore, you can locate the scene politically - Heath's time in office, an interlude between Wilson's two terms - as well as geographically - it all seems to be coming out the Black Country.
Maybe it's cynical to suggest that this is the sound of the '60s boom winding down (the OPEC crisis and a decade-long recession looming: by 1973 Sabbath, Led Zepp, &c had shot their wad) - one-last-dance escapism shorn of anything overtly utopian.
Against this background, the clomp of the beat is sort of zombie-like. "Must. Keep. Drumming! - Whatever the circumstances"