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Too much and not
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When the legendary cross-dressing glam rock dandies New York Dolls announced that they would be reforming and recording a new record, One Day It Will Please Us to Remember Even This, in 2006—after a 31-year hiatus—nobody was caught hanging on the edge of their seats. With a ton of bands now hitting the reunion circuit, it became a good rule of thumb that most would fail miserably as they scrambled to resurrect their former glories. New York Dolls, however, managed to capture lightning in a bottle again and actually ended up with a record that was far more realized than their last effort, 1974’s Too Much Too Soon, and could easily stand up with their classic debut. Singer David Johansen in particular regained his rightful place as one of rock ’n’ roll’s sleaziest frontmen—and one of the most unsung lyricists to ever flirt with blues idioms. Last month, the Dolls proved One Day… was no fluke with their fourth album, Cause I Sez So, which is as full of joy, bravado and rock ’n’ roll sleaze as anything they did back in ’73. Sadly, the New York Dolls story is marked by tragedy as much as triumph, with original members like Billy Murcia, Johnny Thunders and Jerry Nolan all losing their battles with alcohol and heroin, and original bassist Arthur “Killer” Kane dying shortly after their first reunion show at the Meltdown festival in 2004 (curated by former New York Dolls fanclub president Morrissey). The Mirror spoke with original guitarist Sylvain Sylvain over the phone during a tour stop in Florida. Mirror: It seems almost shocking that you guys were able to just pick up where you left off in 1974. Sylvain Sylvain: As far as songwriting goes, we really haven’t changed a thing. Our rule has always been, if the song is no fuckin’ good, you just throw it out. A song has to be for a reason and should just dictate the performance and production, and that’s what still makes it worthwhile for us. When David and I get together, it just comes out this way. M: You guys seemed like a ragtag kind of outfit compared to the bands of the day, like ELP or Yes. SS: We had a real Little Rascals kind of approach and really wanted to put on a show that was kind of like what Little Richard would do. If we needed make-up, we would just dig in our girlfriends’ purses, or if we needed something to wear, we would just go through their closets.
Dress to impressM: You also had a huge impact on the fashion of rock ’n’ roll, from the androgynous look with platforms, lipstick and make-up to the ripped shirts and teased hair. SS: I met Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McClaren at a trade show when I had a sweater shop called Truth and Soul. There was no fashion industry then, we just called it the schmata biz. Their style was really rockabilly and they had a shop called Let It Rock, and Johnny [Thunders, guitarist] and David would show up at the last day of the trade show to get free clothes that would’ve just been thrown out. They came to see us play that night and they would fly all over the world to see us, and Malcolm kind of became our unofficial manager. After that, you could start seeing them use our style, I suppose. M: If you were originally breaking down the barriers of long-in-the-tooth stadium rock, do you find that your timing is equally perfect now that rock ’n’ roll is wallowing in a state of vapid, pitch-corrected pop? SS: Well, we never really think about that. I just put my head down and play. I’m still hoping that after becoming famous and still not earning any money, at least somebody will catch up to this. The one thing about current bands, I find, is that they give it up too easily. They say it was so easy in my time but that’s bullshit. I got my ass kicked every day just walking down the street and looking the way I did because I was a walking, talking art show, but that’s how you announce yourself. M: With the Stooges and MC5 calling it a day in the early ’70s, you guys really were the only people out there playing real rock ’n’ roll. SS: We had to invent our own scene. Don’t forget this was a good five years before CBGB opened up its doors. Knocking down the wallsM: Did you ever expect the immense influence you would have on the late-’70s CBGB scene, glam metal and event the current state of rock ’n’ roll? SS: It was just natural for us to sing about how bored we were, and it ended up there were pockets of bored kids, especially on the Lower East Side, who were listening, and we quickly became the darlings of that neighbourhood. We didn’t really know what we were doing but I guess, subconsciously, we knocked down that wall that was standing in front of everybody at the time, from Patti Smith to Television, Talking Heads, Kiss and the Ramones, and that was just in New York. It’s too bad I couldn’t deposit our influence in the bank but I’m proud of what we did. We never really thought we would have that much impact at all, and it’s great to be an influence on people, but we were just trying to do what Chuck Berry and the girl groups did before us. M: Do you feel a pressure to live up to the legacy and a responsibility to the band members who are no longer with us? SS: If those guys were still alive, there is no doubt that they would be by David’s and my side. Those guys are in my heart and I don’t feel like I have to channel them, they’re just there in my heart. The only things I would change in New York Dolls would be the heroin that crept in. If there was a message of this band, it’s to not fuck around with heroin and you’ll be okay. M: Is there anything you think the rock ’n’ roll history books got wrong about New York Dolls? SS: I think a lot of them don’t remember that we were the first to open those doors. We were the first ones—and the only ones—that knocked down those invisible walls. Everything the New York Dolls did was incredible, and they still are. WITH BLACK JOE LEWIS & |
