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I was told I was in the Science Club in high school. I don't remember it. I bet it was wild.

Saturday, January 20, 2007



Perhaps the most enthralling film experience of the year was my recent viewing of NEW YORK DOLL. The story of Arthur “Killer” Kane, former bassist for the cross-dressing, drug-snorting New York Dolls, is a cliché of the highest order – it has the dizzying highs and squalid lows that most film critics deplore because of the innate push-button sentimentality. But here’s the thing: NEW YORK DOLL is a documentary. The storybook structure is entirely true. Though some (perhaps unnecessary) artifice has been used to tell the story, all of this happened exactly like this. The film may not be remarkable (as the Onion said, it’s the filmic equivalent of the best episode ever of VH1’s BAND REUNITED), but the story is.

The New York Dolls broke on the punk scene in 1971, an uneasy synthesis of misfits, junkies, and social outcasts who decided that to gain a crowd, they’d have to be noticed. While many punk bands were fronting androgynous singers, the Dolls took it a step further – dressing as transvestite whores and dancing seductively around the stage. Their scene was the scene, plain and simple, and the music was at once lurid and exhilarating.

Full disclosure: I have never really cared that much for the Dolls. I find them to something of a Stooges/MC5 knockoff*, and none of their music excites me as those two bands do. A major rock figure (who will be mentioned later) calls them innovative and original, but I just don’t see it. I can’t tell whether David Johansen is channeling Mick Jagger, or outright copying him (they even look alike though Jagger is, amazingly, better looking.) Their music isn’t so much great as it is opportunistic: it’s the kind of sound you’d expect from a group of dudes that look like ladies. And in archival footage released last year as NEW YORK DOLLS: ALL DOLLED UP, they came off as insufferable, immature assholes looking around for “squares” to shock.

But I am fascinated by them.

The story of the Dolls is familiar to anyone who has read PLEASE KILL ME or has spent any time reading about New York scene. When they were about to have a major breakout, drummer Billy Murcia ingested a number of conflicting substances and died after imbecile groupies poured hot coffee down his throat. The band broke up in 1975 with only a cult following and having made no money. Lead Guitarist Johnny Thunders and new Drummer started the Heartbreakers and developed a new cult. They both died of heroin overdoses. Guitarist Sylvain Sylvain faded into obscurity, occasionally working with Johansen. Johansen had an unsuccessful solo career until he dudded himself again, this time as an anachronistic lounge singer named “Buster Poindexter.” Anyone alive in 1988 remembers his only hit, HOT HOT HOT. He then had a semi-successful acting career in films liked SCROOGED and CAR 54, WHERE ARE YOU? Now, he regrets this decision because it damaged his status as a nihilistic icon.

“Killer” Kane, the statue-like bass player, suffered the strangest fate. After years of unsuccessful attempts to recapture the early “success,” he became an abusive, suicidal drunk and lost all of his money. He grew sullen and bitter, particularly at the thought of Johansen’s late-80s resurgence. At some point, he stumbled into a Mormon temple and spent fifteen years poor but clean. The 180 is obvious: from the most extreme libertine to the most rigid conservative. Kane took the bus, wore dorky ties and short-sleeved button down white shirts, and worked at the Family History Library. He pawned his guitars and ignorantly paid every year to keep them in hock, when for about seventy dollars more he could have owned them outright. Occasionally someone would mention that he had once been in a rock band.

But the Dolls had one very influential fan - one of the more enigmatic, respected, and consistent pop stars in recent memory: Morrisey. Before Morrisey became a shoe-gazing megastar, he was obsessed with this transgender rock. That this very private personality participates in the interviews of this documentary is a testament to his admiration. He is the doting impresario behind the comeback. His actions seem completely selfless as he recognizes the debt he owes to them. This is odd because their music is so different.

In 2004, Johansen, Sylvain, and Kane reunite to play “Morrissey’s Meltdown.” By all accounts, it is a success. Johansen and Kane bury the axe. Kane is, for once, happy.

I have no doubt that in 1973, “Killer Kane” was an obnoxious, unbearable persona who bought into the glam and decadence of the scene that embraced him. But in 2004, Arthur Kaneis a sad, sweet, soft-spoken figure – an ascetic who sincerely believes that his unique misery can be successfully channeled into service for the Mormon church. Also, he is not the brightest bulb - whether robbed by his early indulgences or just born this way. To paraphrase Chuck Klosterman in his article on Metallica, rockers like Kane have all their success and are adulated at an early age, and thus never have to grow up or learn to handle conflict in a mature, reasonable way. Kane was probably never good at much other than playing Bass - his popularity in the band was a result of his lack of personality. He lacks the necessary introspection or intelligence to do something about his lot, to put everything in perspective. so he puts his complete trust in the Mormons to point him in the right direction. Judging by this movie, they've done an amazing job at giving him some kind of purpose.

There is a tendency among my fellow Evangelicals to ridicule Mormons and point out their theological inconsistencies, to effectively shun them from any meaningful conversation about God. I realize this film was made by a Mormon, and therefore may have a slanted perspective, but these people love Kane unreservedly, even though he was once the antithesis of their moral teachings. He was a broken, violent, bitter man and they gave him something to keep him alive. As Morrisey notes, he is mostly "miserable," but the community gives his sustenance - they keep him from being more miserable.

It is amazing to think that for fifteen years, you could walk into this library, and meet the bass player for the New York Dolls. When he arrives in London to play Morrisey’s gig, he marvels at a hotel room that most of us would find completely average. Before the big show, he explains to a baffled Johansen about the “Word of Wisdom.”

NEW YORK DOLL is being marketed as a movie about redemption, which it certainly is, but I find it more fascinating as a movie about bass players. In Tom Hanks’ underrated teenage girl fave THAT THING YOU DO!, the bass player is named, simply, “T.B. Player,” a mark of the easiest member of the band to forget. They carry large instruments and usually stand stock still. In Metallica, Jason Newsted was the ostracized and ridiculed member, and he eventually quit. Bass players are often left out of the core of the group. I found a list of the greatest bass players ever, and, other than Flea, the average rock fan probably couldn’t even name them.

Even if you loathe punk, or are ignorant about it, you should enjoy this documentary. After reading a vitriolic biography of Iggy Pop, I was refreshed by this film that describes the weird energy of the period, and the at-times awful fallout. And no matter what creed or faith you belong to, it shows the resuscitating power of spirituality when fused with an absolute faith in its ability to save you.

It made me like the Dolls.

* Other bands/people that ripped off the Stooges/MC5 (for better or wose): Dead Boys, WASP, David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust act, Def Leppard, KISS, Slayer, Joy Division, The Clash, The Beastie Boys, Metallica, Jet, Aerosmith, Blondie, The Hives, The Strokes, Mid-70s Lou Reed, and (most famously and atrociously) The Sex Pistols.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Great post, Andy. Really interesting, makes me want to watch it. I'm sure you've seen the Morrissey fan documentary "Is It Really So Strange?"
It provoked the exact opposite response from me--made me like Morrissey less and made his fans look like ignoramuses. The "scoop" was the documentarian getting access to a photo shoot with Morrissey, only to stand there doe-eyed and talk about his "modern day dandy" appearance.

8:27 AM  
Blogger Drew Holcomb said...

Indeed Bass Players are underrated. Without them there is no rock n roll. I am interested in this documentary although I am honestly very unfamiliar with the New York Punk Scene of the Dolls, Stooges, Patti Smith etc.
Drew

9:43 AM  

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