Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. Unfortunately, this week’s edition sees us yet again paying homage to a fallen hero. This past Friday, February 28th, David Johansen, the last surviving New York Doll, passed away at the age of 75. Similar to our King Crimson retrospective a couple weeks ago, some of you might be questioning the presence of a New York Dolls tribute essay on a metal site. Their influence on punk and alternative music has long been cemented, but metal? Upon surface level, this skepticism might hold some weight, but when we look further at the slew of hard and heavy bands indebted to the Dolls, the conversation becomes unavoidable. Without them, there is no Aerosmith, no KISS, no Cheap Trick, no Hanoi Rocks, no Mötley Crüe, no Guns N’ Roses, no glam metal. Period. This essay will attempt to shed some light onto why, while also paying tribute to one of the greatest rock n’ roll bands that ever was. Rest in power David. Rest in power New York Dolls.
When New York Dolls formed in 1971, they took the New York City rock scene by storm overnight. At this point in time, rock shows were becoming increasingly more theatrical, toeing the line between musical performance and performance art. This was largely thanks to the shock rock spectacle of Alice Cooper, whose namesake frontman quickly became the scourge of the nation, and the transgressive outbursts of The Stooges, fronted by the equally infamous Iggy Pop. Instead of borrowing from Alice Cooper’s pseudo-satanism and The Stooges’ adrenalized violence, the Dolls chose to cultivate their own image. True to their moniker, they’d appear onstage in feminine attire, stilettos, teased hair, and full faces of makeup.
When you coupled this gender-bending uniform with a singular sound that lie somewhere between glitter rock, hard rock, garage rock, and old time rock n’ roll, the Dolls’ were simply unavoidable. They quickly became the envy of every New York area rock band, and a bidding war ensued amongst major labels. Mercury won, putting out the band’s self titled debut album on July 23, 1973. Before we go any further, I’d like to remind you the climate this album was released in. At the time, progressive rock (Yes, ELP, Jethro Tull) and hard rock/early metal (Zeppelin, Sabbath, Purple) are king. The biggest album of the year? Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon, and it’s not even close. Meanwhile, here were the Dolls, who had NOTHING to do with progressive rock, and even at their hardest and heaviest moments, were worlds apart from those aforementioned English masters.
New York Dolls opens with what has since gone on to become their signature song, “Personality Crisis”. If you had to sum up everything about this band in one song, this would be it. It’s loud, rowdy, and obnoxious in the best way imaginable, utilizing a repetitive guitar riff, clanking piano, abstract lyrics, and those swaggering vocals of Johansen. Whereas Iggy Pop’s proto-punk vocals consisted of snarls, shouts, howls, and shrieks, Johansen’s were much more sly and seductive, while packing an equally forceful punch. This song absolutely sounded how the band looked on the cover: Drag queens who had crawled straight out of a gutter.
“Looking for a Kiss” keeps the rowdiness rolling with its streetwise hard rock riffage and sordid maneuvers. If you were to make a playlist of sleaze rock essentials, this would have to be towards the top of the list, up there with The Rolling Stones’ “Rocks Off”, The Dictators’ “The Minnesota Strip”, and take your pick of ’70s Aerosmith bangers (more on the pride and joy of Boston in a bit). It’s not as punky as “Personality Crisis” in terms of musical delivery, but its in and out, straightforward approach certainly fits the ethos.
“Vietnamese Baby” showcases yet another dimension of the Dolls, one that would be further explored by Johansen in his solo career. Fusing hard-nosed riffs and a four on the floor beat with otherworldly lyricism, it drones on akin to the more energetic moments of fellow New Yorkers, The Velvet Underground, and Mott the Hoople: Hard singer-songwriter, or as I like to call this oddball ’70s niche, “Dylan with balls”! This might be a convoluted idea to some of you readers, but dust off your old Hoople albums and you’ll get what I’m talking about.
If “Vietnamese Baby” is “hard singer-songwriter”, then the largely acoustic “Lonely Planet Boy” is pure singer-songwriter with a glammy twist. Truthfully, even upon revisiting this album, I’m not sure how I feel about this one. I appreciate Johansen’s introspective musings and unorthodox vocals as much as the next guy. Musically speaking, does an “unplugged” number sit well next to songs like “Personality Crisis”, “Looking for a Kiss”, and the B side we’re about to tackle? I’ll let you be the judge of that, but it definitely subscribes to that ’70s rock “anything goes” ideology.
Closing side A is the Dolls’ undisputed epic, “Frankenstein”. A 6 minute long song? Who said these boys, er gals, er…theys couldn’t do prog?! Aside from its lengthy runtime, there’s nothing remotely progressive about “Frankenstein”. It too utilizes repetition to get its point across: An anti-authoritarian tale of wasted youths running away from the monster of mundane suburban hell for life in the big city, warts and all. In this regard, “Frankenstein” might be the most punk song on the whole album, at least spiritually speaking. Fun fact: The song had to be titled “Frankenstein (Orig.)” because at the same time, pomp rockers Edgar Winter Group had a #1 hit with their instrumental of the same name.
As we flip over to side B, we’re throttled by yet another nasty, no holds barred proto-punk rocker, “Trash”. As elementary as this song is upon first listen, I’d argue “Trash” doesn’t get nearly enough credit for being a few years ahead of its time. It’s frenetic delivery and bouncing beat sound straight out of the English punk scene that’d explode a few short years later, conjuring images of safety-pin nosed punks pogoing in unison while out of their mind on glue. And if any band in 1973 was gonna sing a song about “Trash”, it was New York Dolls.
When it comes to the metal-ness of New York Dolls, “Bad Girl” takes the cake for the album’s most metal moment. 5 years before Motörhead would cement metalpunk as a proper fusion, here were the Dolls tearing it up a song that combined the angst of punk with metallic riffing at its most braindead. Guitarists Sylvain Sylvain and Johnny Thunders plod away with a twin axe assault that would make Iommi and Blackmore cringe for its rudimentary delivery, yet was equally as heavy as anything either guitar hero were ranking out at the time.
If the singer-songwriter stylings of “Vietnamese Baby” and “Lonely Planet Boy” foreshadowed Johanen’s future musical endeavors, then it’s the nostalgic, winding glam punk of “Subway Train” that foreshadowed what guitarist Thunders would achieve with his subsequent outfit, the equally influential Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers (Tom who?). Cowritten by Johansen and Thunders, “Subway Train” balances soft and hard passages with those ever-compelling lyrics and some ripping leads, courtesy of Thunders. It’s worlds apart from “Bad Girl”, yet fits following.
If you ever sensed an early rock n’ roll flavor to New York Dolls, it’s no coincidence. Living up to their sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll image, the Dolls check off the “drugs” part of the equation with a punked up version of the Bo Diddley deep cut, “Pills”. Unsurprisingly, it was a song released a decade plus too early, being washed away by the sanitized sounds of Pat Boone and Bobby Darin. The Dolls figured they’d pay tribute to the unsung ’50s axe-man, and they do exactly that with this balls out rendition. Too many listens to this one and you’re bound to die of a sleaze overdose!
“Private World” yet again taps into the “hard singer-songwriter” vein explored on side A with its Velvet Underground nuances (jangling guitars, rollicking pianos, stripped down delivery). It’s another one like “Lonely Planet Boy”, in which I question its presence slightly, but these doubts are quickly obliterated by the utterly explosive closer, “Jet Boy”. Make no mistake: These Dolls saved the hardest, punkiest, and sleaziest for last. “Jet Boy” perfectly embodies New York City street life circa-1973, street trash, feral hookers, dope slinging, and all. Listen to it alongside Iron Maiden’s “Running Free” and one could argue Steve Harris co-opted the same formula for his NWOBHM hymn, reframing the setting from the cruel alleys of New York to the equally cruel alleys of London.
Although New York Dolls failed to make a dent commercially, and the band folded altogether come 1976, the “Dolls effect” quickly swept rock n’ roll, and is still prevalent as ever over half a century on. The earliest offenders? Aerosmith. Take a listen to their self titled 1973 debut: Humble, bluesy Stones worship that’s subdued in production and delivery, even at its hardest moments. Then take a listen to Get Your Wings, released just a year later. If you don’t think Steven Tyler and Joe Perry didn’t absolutely STUDY the first Dolls album, you’re delusional, in denial, or just plain dumb.
The fact of the matter is, whether you’re a punk, metalhead, or one of those college rock dorks who thinks Lou Reed was the second coming of Christ, New York Dolls offers something for everyone, and should be required listening for any band of pimple-faced kids eager to strap on a guitar and bang on a drum. It’s loud. It’s vulgar. It’s over the top for all the right reasons. Most importantly, it’s honest. If you took away the heels and the garb and the makeup, you’d still get the same musical truth, being professed by five young drifters singing about all they knew, at times with a wisdom beyond their years! Dolls, wherever you are, keep on rockin’ and makin’ a racket.
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