Showing posts with label New York Dolls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York Dolls. Show all posts

Rock & Roll Showman: David Johansen, 1950-2025, R.I.P.


When I first read Robert Christgau's memoir, Going into the City (2015), I was disappointed to learn that his favorite album of all-time had changed to Television's Marquee Moon, and was no longer The Clash's debut album; US version, that came out in 1979, for me, original 1977 version for him. (Thanks for the edit.) I'd had the impression for years, decades, that The Clash album was his favorite and one of mine too; I liked that we shared that. Claiming Marquee Moon now, although a good album, struck me as a lame homer gesture. Somewhat understandable as something people do as they get older, things closer to us grow more dear, but too damn austere an album for an Xgau number one, by my lights. I might have expected his move would have soured me a bit on his Stranded (1978) Desert Island faves the New York Dolls but not at all. Actually, either one of the Dolls original classic albums from the early 1970s, New York Dolls (1973) or Too Much Too Soon (1974), would have made more sense to me as his all-time album favorite: NYC homers but undeniably, quintessentially, irrationally exuberant rock & roll music. Todd Rundgren gives the debut the glam rock power pop sheen of a big loud (if somewhat rickety) runaway subway train. "Personality Crisis" and "Jet Boy" should have been hits; "Frankenstein" is an epic hard rock masterpiece. The second album, TMTS, wasn't the song album of the debut but Shadow Morton's production might have sounded even better. The band turns covers of Sonny Boy Williamson, The Coasters, and Philly International, really, everything they touch, into a gloriously big and trashy burlesque of 1950s rock & roll. The Cramps, for one celebrated example, were born of such lustful irreverence. My enthusiasm for everything Dolls even carried over into all Johansen's early solo albums, even the often maligned In Style (1979), and up to 1982's live album Live It Up, which I saw at the Euphoria Tavern in Portland, OR. Great show; and Johansen was a great showman. NYC's proud idiosyncratic version of Mick Jagger. I lost interest with Johansen's Buster Poindexter persona, however; found "Hot Hot Hot" more annoying than anything else, but still liked that he had found a niche in the music industry. He played in the SNL house band for years. And then I fell back into the fold with their 2006 comeback album, One Day It Will Please Us to Remember Even This, and liked even a song or two on their subsequent last two studio albums, Cause I Sez So ('09) and Dancing Backwards in High Heels ('11); if overall each significantly less than the album previous to it. They were aging out of being able to play Dolls style rock & roll but deserve credit for still being able to do so convincingly for as long as they did. But I'll always think of Johansen lead style as going best with the sludgy feedback roar of Johnny Thunders' guitar; again, not unlike Jaggers and Richards. David Johansen was one of the great 1970s NYC rockers and, in the end, a consummate music biz pro, going from the lower east side all the way uptown and back. And represents some favorite music, inspired by his original Desert Island endorsement, I still share with Xgau. 

"Looking for a Kiss," peak period Dolls. Click on the youtube connection. 

How Queer is "Frankenstein" and How Frankensteinish is the Orange Dump Era?

 How Queer is "Frankenstein"?

Way more than I knew that's for sure. Best account of Victor's Frankenstein's feelings of repulsion and disgust for his scientific Creation of Life, his "hideous progeny," I've come across. Anyway, another super curious take on Frankenstein, including lots of primary source Mary Shelley biography. (Hoping you can get around the paywall. Sorry.) 

Not as queer maybe but queer nonetheless and, since we're on the subject, another version of "Frankenstein." 


Anyway, Frankenstein is a colossus metaphor in English literature and American cultural history. For instance, the Orange Chump is a glaring Frankenstein creation of the greed-is-good Reagan Revolution and the 1980s. Michael Douglas' big deal maker character, Gordon Gekko, in Wall Street an obvious model. Neoliberalism at its most venal and malevolent and ultimately, when feeling threatened, fascist. All the tax cutting, deregulating, go-go-yuppie prosperity-for-the-super-rich-and-credit-card-debt-austerity for every one else, corporate ruling chickens coming home to roost. American leadership in the world has arguably been waning in the 21st century anyway but if we really want to hasten the apocalypse, sure, more Orange Grump Era violent gun crazy women-hating dying whitemanistan politics. Let's face it, the deaths of despair population (declining lifespans for white people with no college education) that Angus Deaton and Anne Case chronicle in their books makeup a disproportionate number of maga repuglicans. Their backwards cultural hatreds, violent Jim Crow politics makes no one safer, not even them, and should be shunned at the election box by all peace loving and future loving peoples.  

We can do better, we have done better. Okay, my mini rant for today.