Sylvain Sylvain
Confessions Of A Doll


After flaming out in a blaze of glam-glory almost 30 years ago, the surviving members of the New York Dolls finally got together again last year to perform at London's Meltdown Festival, at the behest of show organizer and Dolls devotee Morrissey. No one knew quite what to expect, but the response was so great that over a year later, they're surprised to find themselves still playing to enthusiastic crowds across America and around the world. Guitarist and original Doll Sylvain Sylvain sat still just long enough to have a little lunch and a little chat with CREEM correspondent W.C. Moriarity before the band's recent show at the Anaheim House of Blues, just down the road a piece from Disneyland...

New York Doll First Independant Pictures Of course, anyone who's been paying attention is well aware of the primordial importance of the New York Dolls when it comes to the history and evolution of punk rock. The problem is... not everyone's been paying attention! Well, New York Doll does its part to set the record straight by telling the story of one of the most overlooked members of one of the most overlooked bands in the annals of rock 'n' roll—Dolls bassist Arthur "Killer" Kane. There's no denying that the Dolls had a direct and powerful influence on groups like the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, the Clash and untold other bands of the early punk era—not to mention some other less admirable "hair bands" of a slightly later era who managed to cop the Dolls attitude for mock/shock effect but completely lacked any understanding of the underlying humor, irony, subversiveness and genuine anarchy of the original item. The Clash's Mick Jones even admits in the film, "We took a lot from the Dolls!" The punks got what was good about the Dolls and basically stole it—but never managed to look quite so good doing it. Sometimes the stealing was literal. In the early days, Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones even played Dolls guitarist Sylvain Sylvain's white Falcon that that well-respected man-about-town Mr. Malcolm McLaren—who managed both the Pistols and the last shreds of the Dolls—had spirited across the pond and never returned! But the Dolls are only part of the story. The band's bass player, Arthur "Killer" Kane is the real story here. But you can't really tell his story without telling the Dolls story, especially since Arthur's world still revolved around the Dolls nearly 30 years after they'd broken up. As Arthur himself admits in the film, "It's hard to put those memories away. They're my fondest memories." But whether or not one is able to put those idyllic memories aside, one must carry on in the real world. And carry on Arthur did... but just barely! The film pulls no punches in showing just how sketchy Arthur's life had become after descending from the decadent heights of glam rock semi-stardom. Early in the film, Arthur is shown riding the busses around Los Angeles while complaining, "I was demoted from rock star to schlep on the bus." And in the past, while expressing his disdain for public transport, he'd once confided to me, "Every time I get on the bus, I expect to get a standing ovation... but it never happens!" In fact, the amusing contrasts the film draws are one of its greatest strengths—Arthur's outrageously over-the-top look from the past compared to his mild-mannered look of today, his life on the stage compared to his work at the library, his wild and woolly rock 'n' roll cohorts compared to his straight-laced Mormon compatriots. You see, somewhere along the line, Arthur had sent away for a free Book of Mormon, was eventually adopted by the Mormon church, and even ended up working at their Family Research Center. Arthur describes his conversion experience as something like, "an LSD trip from the Lord!" But Blondie's Clem Burke characterizes Arthur's conversion to Mormonism as something akin to "Donny Osmond joining the New York Dolls." The scene with Arthur and gruff-voiced Dolls singer David Johansen discussing the Ten Commandments and the finer points of Mormonism backstage while Johansen puffs on a cigarette is priceless, as is the scene where Arthur arrives at the Royal Marriott in London for the Dolls' first reunion show in decades. He's somewhat stunned by his opulent surroundings and can't help but compare the luxurious furnishings in his hotel room to the "bunch of junk" he has to make do with in his small apartment back in Los Angeles. Of course, what provides the film with its real momentum is the unexpected opportunity for the band to reunite after nearly 30 years for Morrissey's big Meltdown Festival in London. This shakes up Arthur's sedate world and forces him out of obscurity and back out onto the stage. As Arthur confides in the film, "I've been ignored and been living in obscurity and been told that I'm just a loser. And now we want to get back that excitement. But I have to get used to it because it's something I haven't dealt with in 30 years." But first off, he has to borrow a few bucks to get his bass out of hock! The build-up to the Dolls reunion provides the real drama of the film. Will they pull it off? Will they be able to capture the old magic? Or will they just crash and burn? The actual reunion show at the Royal Albert Hall in London provides the real emotional capper for the film. But there's one final twist to the story—Kane's unexpected death shortly after the Meltdown gig—that enables the film to pack that much more of an emotional punch. Dolls David Johansen and Sylvain Sylvain, along with Blondie's Frank Infante and Clem Burke, Iggy Pop, Bob Geldof, Chrissie Hynde, and Morrissey all turn up to share their legends of Arthur. But the elderly women he worked with at the Mormon library really steal the show, especially when they turn all girlish and giggle with embarrassment while speculating about the possibility of becoming "groupies!" Overall, the film does a great job of capturing the bittersweet and often contradictory life of a man who experienced the complete scope of life from some amazingly thrilling highs to some terribly debilitating lows, and who was lucky enough to get the chance to catch the view from the top one last time before all was said and done. It all adds up to quite a rich odyssey! Junkies, Mormons and corpse grinders all together in one film...who'd have thought it was possible? —W.C. Moriarity October 2005

CREEM: So what's been the biggest surprise for you in relation to the whole Dolls reunion?
SYLVAIN: Well obviously, right off the bat, Arthur Kane, the poor thing. Did I know he was going to split like that? But the reunion shows were the best send-off that anybody could ever have. And I've got to thank Morrissey for that. Morrissey's a jewel—for all of us. It changed my whole life. But in Arthur's case, he waited his whole life to have that moment again. But the other big surprise was the audience and the public, and the way they reacted. I didn't think we were going to get as big a welcome. We were only going to get together for the Meltdown. And basically, once that happened, the phones didn't stop ringing. And that was definitely a surprise, because it stopped ringing for me about 300 years ago!

CREEM: What's been the best thing about the reunion for you?
SYLVAIN: Not having to chase the rent every month. And I only had one guitar—now I've got three guitars! I didn't even have a tuner. And that's what makes me so humble and so thankful. You know, when I first moved out to Atlanta, I was having to work putting together booths for trade shows.

CREEM: How is life on the road different today than it was 30 years ago? Fewer groupies?
SYLVAIN: No, they're still there; they're just older! There are different guys, but you still deal with the same shit. Look, we still have the same soundman, NightBob, the world's most dangerous sound man!

CREEM: Have you seen the Arthur Kane documentary, New York Doll yet?
SYLVAIN: I haven't seen the whole film. But I saw the 10-minute clip from it that's on our live DVD from the Meltdown. And it was so fucking beautiful, I cried.

CREEM: What's one of your most vivid memories of Arthur?
SYLVAIN: One day, back in New York, me, our drummer Billy Murcia, Arthur and our girlfriends decided to drink some tequila and we all got really bombed. Arthur fell asleep in this big chair, and he had these big white boots on. So we got this crazy glue and we glued his boots to the floor. He was asleep, and then we woke him up really abruptly. And he got up and tried to walk and he went right over on his face. He was yelling, "I'm gonna get you fuckers!"

CREEM: What's one of your most memorable moments from the first time around with the Dolls?
SYLVAIN: Well, Biba was this very old English clothing and make-up company. They had this department store in London that had this big ballroom on the top floor. We played there in 1974, and we were the biggest fucking thing at that moment. I mean, Paul McCartney was in our audience, besides the Malcolm McLarens and the Vivienne Westwoods and all that. But we had no money, because they never really paid us. Anyway, Arthur and I went downstairs to the department store to shop around. He found this really cool jacket with leopard-skin lapels, but he couldn't afford it. So he switched tags, and he got busted for it. And we made the BBC news!

CREEM: Did you ever feel there was a curse around the Dolls?
SYLVAIN: Well we've always been blessed with the best and the worst. Many years ago, we were voted the best band of the year and the worst band of the year by your very own CREEM readers!

CREEM: What was the most unusual Dolls gig you remember?
SYLVAIN: 'Man Country' was a men's bathhouse where we got our first paying gig—we got $400. It was in Brooklyn in 1972. The guys were all there with their towels on. They had this saddle up on the wall, and David Johansen took it down and started riding it, and they all loved that. But they were all looking at Johnny Thunders, and they were all playing underneath their towels. And poor Johnny, he had such homophobia!

CREEM: What's the most important lesson you've learned lately?
SYLVAIN: That you've got to deliver what people came to see. You can't bring back Johnny Thunders; you can't bring back Billy Murcia; you can't bring back Arthur Kane or Jerry Nolan. But you can certainly bring back that spirit.

CREEM: From your experience, do you have any words of advice for other musicians out there?
SYLVAIN: Make it count. Do it for yourself. And try it in front of an audience. Don't stay at home and practice, practice, practice. Get out and practice right in front of a crowd. Learn your craft in front of a crowd. They'll tell you what sucks and what's great. And don't be run by everyone else around you, like management and record companies. Just do the exact opposite of everyone else, and make your own thing happen!

—W.C. Moriarity October 2005

Photos: Sylvain Sylvain by W.C. Moriarity; Arthur Kane by Greg Whiteley