Just look at them. Yes, this photo was taken in 1973. In hindsight, it is difficult to imagine how they went anywhere. Maybe that’s because they didn’t; now hailed as a cult act responsible for the development of punk music, the New York Dolls were all but universally hated by critics when they stumbled unbecomingly onto the nascent garage rock scene. They scarcely lasted four years before they imploded. For context, the New York Dolls released their debut album the same year that the American Psychiatric Association declassified homosexuality as a mental disorder. How they scored a record deal (albeit with a label that dropped them like a hot potato) is beyond me.
But they did, and today they are remembered as proto-punk pioneers alongside acts like Detroit’s MC5 and the Stooges. These accolades are, of course, retrospective. In their time, the Dolls were mostly dismissed as a noisy novelty act or a shoddy, Sunset-Strip replica of the Rolling Stones. Critics despised their off-brand, sleazy spin on rock and roll and disgraceful lack of musicality. They held together just long enough to record two albums (before they reunited in the 2000s) and imprint themselves in the histories of punk and glam rock. By the time they reunited, they had lost three of their members. Their last surviving original member, frontman David Johansen, died on Feb. 28, 2025.
Johansen was born on Jan. 9, 1950, in Staten Island, New York. As a teenager, he sang for local bands and worked sound and lights at a theater company. He fronted the local Vagabond Missionaries before joining the New York Dolls and taking over vocal duties from guitarist Johnny Thunders. The Dolls broke up in 1976, and Johansen reinvented himself in the 80s as a novelty act and actor.
The New York Dolls formed around guitarists Johnny Thunders and Sylvain Sylvain and bassist Arthur “Killer” Kane. David Johansen joined as a singer, with Billy Murcia on drums. Murcia died during their first tour and, after auditioning Marc Bell (Marky Ramone of the Ramones) and Peter Criss (of KISS fame), the band settled on Jerry Nolan. They were signed by Mercury Records in 1972 and recruited glam rock aficionado Todd Rundgren to produce their first album. With their debut, they defined the glam rock aesthetic with their colorful outfits and pop-gone-wrong attitude to songwriting.
They could hardly play their instruments, and their songs fell apart just as unpredictably as they started. They wore tights, leopard print, knee-high boots and makeup, yet somehow still managed to wear almost nothing at all. This was most distressing to the parents of young America who, on Oct. 19, 1973, watched their children tune in to The Midnight Special to see five scantily-clad drag queens strutting on high heels and barking about who-knows-what and for who-knows-who. Somehow, they found an audience. Perhaps in the midst of Vietnam War-era America, the Dolls’ mindless racket was a welcome distraction.
New York Dolls, their debut album, was released on July 27, 1973 by Mercury Records. It barely charted in the U.S. and was an unambiguous commercial failure. Musically, the album is glam rock at its most basic, with simple arrangements built around the constant roar of Thunders’ and Sylvain’s guitars. The album opens with “Personality Crisis,” a romping sing-along and the closest they ever got to a hit. Within seconds, the listener is subjected to Johansen’s frenzied yelps. His voice is a whiskey-soaked imitation of Mick Jagger, and he spews his words with a great urgency. Thunders and Sylvain stumble along over the steady yet haphazard rhythm section in a wide wash of silvery major chords. The first side culminates in “Frankenstein,” perhaps the most serious and unsettling performance they ever gave. Johansen’s tale of lost youth in Manhattan and sex with a monster builds to a deafening barrage and descends to a stop amidst his wordless shrieks. Side two immediately opens with the bouncy “Trash,” a pop song filtered through the grime of the New York Dolls with ample false stops and starts to keep the drunken, stammering momentum going. Thunders’ and Sylvain’s crying chorus of “Trash!” leaves Johansen plenty of room to ramble about the pursuit of redemption and the art of recycling. In the closing “Jet Boy,” Thunders and Sylvain put a sinister twist on Chuck Berry’s righteous rumble with blues licks rehashed. From its opening four-on-the-floor handclaps and rumbling riff, “Jet Boy” ends the album on a high note and epitomizes the band’s sound with its driving chorus and obnoxious flair.
The New York Dolls’ meager success would dwindle just as quickly as it came. By the time 1974’s Too Much Too Soon came around, they were all but forgotten — eclipsed by less polarizing bands. ’Twas a classic sophomore slump from which they never recovered. Tensions and drug use were as high as ever, and Thunders and Nolan left in 1975 to form the Heartbreakers. Thunders himself would remain a cult figure, recording as both a Heartbreaker and solo artist, until his death in 1991 of an accidental overdose. Nolan died of a stroke a year after. Johansen would find moderate success as Buster Poindexter, singing pop standards and big band tunes under his clean-cut crooner alter ego. He turned to acting later in life before the Dolls officially reunited in 2004, shortly after which Kane died of leukemia, leaving only two original members to record their third album. Sylvain died in 2021, leaving Johansen as the last surviving original member until his death several weeks ago.
The New York Dolls leave behind a legacy mostly characterized by their importance in the development of punk and glam rock. Shortly after their dissolution, the Ramones and Sex Pistols took up the cause and crafted punk as we know it today. Glam bands in the ’80s, from Van Halen to Guns N’ Roses, revitalized the Dolls’ aesthetic and tailored it to a wider audience. For such a short-lived group, their significance to several genres can hardly be overstated.
Josh Yiu is a sophomore in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. He can be reached at jy793@cornell.edu.
