New York Dolls

I saw the New York Dolls last night, and for a band that has inspired so many of my favorite bands, e.g. The Smiths, or bands that inspired other favorites, e.g. The Sex Pistols, I didn’t find myself captivated. Rather, I found myself leaving four songs following their opening. I did see them cover “Take Another Little Piece of my Heart,” but that made their lead singer Johansen look even more like a haggard old chain smoking trailer park matron than it did put me back with feeling.

Of course, the opening act was from Toledo, OH – “We are the Fury,” was their name. Their performance and attire carried with it the glam of earlier New York Dolls; however, their performance and attire hearkened back thirty-to-twenty-five years. I didn’t find any part of their songwriting something to which I would care to return, but they had a nice energy level.

What I found even more interesting was going to a show here in Boise. I say that, as I had not yet been to a Rock show in Boise. Boise is the home of Built to Spill, but aside from BTS, there isn’t a raging DIY indie rock scene here, like there was in Memphis. Of course, as it goes, I came from Chicago, which is one of the bastions of indie music, so I have a pretty subjective perspective relative to comparison.

However, that’s not to say there weren’t freaks and geeks milling about at the show last night. There was ink; there were piercings, and there were kids with lots of glam or faux bouffant stylings. Quite honestly, for me, it was rather grotesque, but then that lead me to think two things: one, I have not been to a show of any sort for a long time; two, not drinking the cocktails any longer, I am more outwardly focused than I was in the past; and three, I am getting old.

I do hit the big “Three-O” this year, and methinks that while the milestone-ish number is more subconscious than anything, there is some truth to my lifestyle having changed along with growing a bit older, so that when I am around those, the likes of which I am not around too often, I am not as desensitized. When one’s life is seven-to-five with nothing but running, skiing, yoga, dining, or libraries, one doesn’t see much of the younger counter-culture aspects to life.

I don’t know part of me also has the pension to dismiss their elements of counter-culture, as for me, being the geezer; it has less creativity or style than it did when folks I knew were pulling it off. Now, it all seems so tired and pastiche.

How’s that for an old man’s rant? Rock.