Last night’s New York Dolls’ show did *not* disappoint. And, holy hell, does Lil’ Steven ever know how to throw a kick-ass rock and roll party. (I think the thing I envy most about Bruce Springsteen is that he has had Steven as a best friend since he was 16 years old). He knows that the secret ingredient to ultimate kick-assedness is having go-go dancers bring their sexy brand of enthusiasm to the stage while garage bands are churning out their riffs. After all, these are the true cheerleaders for music, man! (forget what they told you in Almost Famous about groupies, OK?) It’s all about the immediate. —Dancing to the magic...whilst the musicians are creating it on stage with the women who embody what it is all about... After all, it’s inevitably the answer so much of the time…to that question: why did you start a band?
*To get girls, man*
What better way to prove that fact, than to have that desire and ambition in the form of real live , flesh and blood, dancing girls! All that joy and inspiration---the Muse—right there, tantalizing the crowd and the dudes in the band. It makes me feel proud to be a woman, and I love the act of appreciation.
Last night, I thought of that great, smirking Mick Jagger quote....how he feels like a highly paid stripper from night to night. David Johansen really has that rock and roll look down: in “regular life” he would simply be freakish. But, on stage, it all makes sense. With those thighs the size of a woman’s arm, protruding ribs, and ginormous head, showcasing his uber-exaggerated Jagger-like features (smaller lips, but bigger mouth, somehow) he gyrates and swivels those microscopic hips is really what Rock front men are all about. There was not an ounce of the pathetic in last night’s performance (even if there were only two original members on stage) it was totally invigorating and tight and powerful. Every song was vital and made me think of what it would be like to see those fuckers debut that *Sound* on stage at CBGB or Max’s Kansas City (last night, the name of that venue was proudly displayed above the ass of guitarist, Sylvain Sylvainon, on a leather weight-lifting belt). I thought about everyone they must have inspired: those “fringe” rockers, the dudes that liked to wear lipstick, and the musicians who wanted to kill Arena Rock.
I couldn’t take the grin off of my face for the entire show. Much like Johansen’s grotesque, bemused, and totally genuine smile that spread across his face—like he was maybe surprised (?) to see the enthused fans get into the set like it was 1973. The crowd was predominantly comprised of aging Punk Rock Nerd Boys who never really grew up. Thrusting their middle fingers in the air for the end of the Supersuckers’ brilliant, rowdy set (THEY had the go-go ladies on stage, the Dolls did not), they were having a fucking blast. And, I wondered if they really got out much anymore… But, really, I kept thinking about how age is completely meaningless in rock. All three times that I’ve seen the Rolling Stones and marveled that they had more raw energy than any “young” band I have ever seen.
Last night, I felt the same way—these guys are totally in it still. I felt optimistic about it all…how my life might play out… Yet another existential inner monologue taking place under the roof of First Ave. Exactly how it should be.
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