New York Dolls return

Although the progressive rock movement was gathering ominous momentum, it was entirely possible to believe that this was a golden age. And then David Johansen and his leering New York Dolls stepped up to smack this complacent face with a malevolent feather boa.

Fortunately for those of us who were there at the time, and a treat for those who were not, the Dolls are providing an encore. Three survivors - vocalist Johansen, guitarist Sylvain Sylvain and bass player Arthur Kane - are returning to the UK as guests of Morrissey, who is creative director of this year's Meltdown Festival on the South Bank.

Steven Morrissey was 13 years old when he fell forever in love after seeing the Dolls on television. In 1981, his obsession yielded a book about his heroes, and in 1982 it mutated into the formation of The Smiths with Johnny Marr.

The two groups were not remotely related musically, but that was not the point. "For me, they were the official end of the Sixties," he commented in 1986. "They were the first sign that there was change, that someone was going to kick through and get rid of all the nonsense. It gave people hope."

Which was not the way everyone viewed this hissing and snarling rock band. The great British press, still reeling from the excesses of the viced-up Rolling Stones and the freelove shenanigans of the Summer of Love, was in no mood to welcome a bunch of louche and thuggish New Yorkers who mixed truck driver masculinity with a penchant for hookers' outfits - pink tights, big barnets, sequined hot pants, satin frocks, high heels and lashings of carelessly-applied make-up adorned the bodies of hairy, stubbly, pouting drug fiends.

Perhaps if they had been in the business of belting out camp show tunes they might have got away with it, but the Dolls delivered the loudest rock 'n' roll that electricity could supply. I shudder to think what the consequences would have been to the national grid had they achieved great commercial success over here.

Sadly, the New York Dolls never quite made it, although their comet left scorch marks all over the history of popular music. I had the great good fortune to be around when they made a short trip to England in the winter of 1973.

They only played a couple of gigs on that occasion, and one of them happened to be at the university of Warwick, where I was a student.

Although they had released an eponymous debut album earlier that year, we didn't know that much about them. There were a couple of killer songs, such as Personality Crisis and Looking for a Kiss, but the Dolls did not perform perfectly executed versions of their repertoire of rough diamonds. It was all they could do to stay balanced on their heels.

Most people in the audience that night didn't really get it. Even those who had taken the precaution of dropping a tab of double Dexedrine along with the usual pints of beer were taken aback by the casual brutality of the assault.

Yet the Dolls' music, unlike their appearance, was utterly unaffected. Their predecessors were the Rolling Stones, the Animals and the Pretty Things, plus all those American punk bands who latched on to those coat-tails.

These boys were not in awe of the pretty melodies of The Beatles. The basis for their songs was raucous R&B and blues, played furiously on two guitars, bass and drums, all driven along by hellhound vocals. The subject matter of the lyrics was exclusively devoted to the problems of achieving a satisfactory level of sexual activity, and not being driven mad by boredom in the modern world.

Perhaps most important of all, the New York Dolls did not believe in the long and pointless guitar-solo, the tentacles of which were threatening to strangle the life out of the most noble of savage art forms: the three-minute pop rocket.

It was only a couple of years later, and after the release of their second and final album, Too Much Too Soon in 1974, that the significance of that queenly quintet became apparent. It is no coincidence that Malcolm McLaren took over their management in 1975, towards the end of their brief career, and when they had already shot their bolt.

McLaren's attempt to reinvent them as communist sex zombies only hastened their demise. But on his return from the US, McLaren was quick to apply the lessons he had learned. Soon after, the Sex Pistols appeared, and it would take a notably cock-eyed observer not to notice that a baton had been passed.

Informed opinion, always fond of repeating itself, dished out a beating to the Pistols that surpassed that of their American forerunners. But an audience had woken up in the meantime, and this time the music and the attitude did not fade away.

The fate of the New York Dolls was not untypical. Original drummer Billy Murcia had died of an overdose by 1972, and his replacement, Jerry Nolan, died of a stroke in 1992, not long after bad-boy guitarist Johnny Thunders also succumbed to the drugs.

For the forthcoming visit, Thunders will be replaced by former Guns 'N' Roses member Izzy Stradlin, while Libertines' drummer Gary Powell will keep the beat.

A couple of years ago, David Johansen, who has reportedly cleaned up his act with a view to longevity, summed up the appeal of his old band: "Before us, rock stars were in gilded cages and untouchable. I brought it down to the street - if I can do this, you can do this."

The genteel environs of the South Bank are hardly what he had in mind by the street, but we can still hope for a little more that old evil magic.

Meltdown is at the South Bank 11-27 June. The New York Dolls perform on 18 June. Information: 08703 808300