Ah, the Dolls. More than any other band, they were the epitome of the rock 'n' roll lifestyle (them and The Stooges..but that's another story). They didn't just burn the candle at both ends--they used a blowtorch on the middle. All the drug-crazed, trashily androgynous, Rolling Stones-in-drag insanity of the New York Dolls was woefully short-lived, but the result was a breakthrough 1973 LP that was a huge influence on the future punk movement. The Ramones (guitarist Johnny Thunders was a friend of Dee Dee Ramone's) and the Sex Pistols (Malcom McLaren managed the Dolls before there even was a Johnny Rotten) probably wouldn't have existed without Johnny Thunders and David Johansen to show them the way.
Way grittier and wilder than their glam rock kin (David Bowie and T. Rex), the Dolls basically updated the early rock 'n' roll of Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. What the Dolls lacked in instrumental prowess they made up for in reckless sexual abandon and crazy R&B swagger. Thunders' guitar is HUGE, sloppy, and manic, and his filthy riffs and solos are what make this album. But let's not forget the trashy wit and great singing of Johanson, Sylvain Sylvain's piano, Jerry Nolan's crashing drums, and bassist Arthur Kane...well, he sucked, but you barely heard him over the wonderfully shambolic boogie anyway.
The opener Personality Crisis establishes everything the Dolls were about--stomping piano, riproaring guitar, and Johanson's cocky swagger and crazy vocals. The 1-2-3 punch of Personality Crisis, Looking For A Kiss, and Vietnamese Baby is then followed by the short reprive of Lonely Planet Boy. The epic Frankenstein brings the rawk back, and it is immediately followed by the insanely addictive sing-a-long Trash. The album ends with Jet Boy, which hooks you with the biggest freakin' chorus ever. Filler? What filler? Every song rules. They're so good that you will almost forget about Todd Rundgren's godawful production. Almost.
Way grittier and wilder than their glam rock kin (David Bowie and T. Rex), the Dolls basically updated the early rock 'n' roll of Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. What the Dolls lacked in instrumental prowess they made up for in reckless sexual abandon and crazy R&B swagger. Thunders' guitar is HUGE, sloppy, and manic, and his filthy riffs and solos are what make this album. But let's not forget the trashy wit and great singing of Johanson, Sylvain Sylvain's piano, Jerry Nolan's crashing drums, and bassist Arthur Kane...well, he sucked, but you barely heard him over the wonderfully shambolic boogie anyway.
The opener Personality Crisis establishes everything the Dolls were about--stomping piano, riproaring guitar, and Johanson's cocky swagger and crazy vocals. The 1-2-3 punch of Personality Crisis, Looking For A Kiss, and Vietnamese Baby is then followed by the short reprive of Lonely Planet Boy. The epic Frankenstein brings the rawk back, and it is immediately followed by the insanely addictive sing-a-long Trash. The album ends with Jet Boy, which hooks you with the biggest freakin' chorus ever. Filler? What filler? Every song rules. They're so good that you will almost forget about Todd Rundgren's godawful production. Almost.
The New York Dolls' first release ranks up there with The Stooges' Fun House and The MC5's Kick Out The Jams as the definitive proto-punk album. Barring that, it may be the greatest pure rock 'n' roll document EVER. You need this one. Shotgun Method
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