My Night With DJ Amanda

Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. If it was something like that, she’d be blogging about it herself in one of her genius entries for This Week in Sex. DJ Amanda and I went to see the New York Dolls at the heinous South Street Seaport last Friday, and that was my big night out.

The bands were set up to play in front of a very large sailing ship, and David Johansen wore a Cap'n Crunch hat and made pirate references. DJ Amanda and I said, “Arrrrrrghh!” but nobody else did. The New York Dolls sounded good and the show was enjoyable, even though there are only two original Dolls left. Their new songs were okay too, except that sometimes it sounded as if they don’t quite know how to play them yet.

The opening band was called the Tralalas. They featured the best beats and riffs of the 1980s, with four girls singing Go-Gos harmonies in front of a band made up of guys. One of the girls seemed pretty miffed that the crowd wasn’t that into them. I spent most of their set wondering how we could get away from the scary, scary white-eyed devil in the green striped shirt, and what kind of drugs he was on, and whether he would actually hurt us.

Here’s what I wondered while the New York Dolls were playing:
Is it hard to grow your hair that long when you’re as old as David Johansen?
Why is this the first live show I’ve ever been to where I can understand all the lyrics?
How long will it be before one of the Wall Street guys hollers out a request for “Hot Hot Hot?”
Why do Wall Street guys wear loafers without socks to work? Or do they just take off the socks when they want to go out and look casual?
If David Johansen and Iggy Pop had a fight, who would win?
Is that apparently unattended black backpack on the ground in front of me going to blow up?
Should I stand closer to the backpack so it’ll definitely kill me if it does explode?
Wouldn’t dying right away be better than living in a hospital with half my face gone?
Why does this fat guy think that bringing his girlfriend an energy drink when she asked for a beer is a good idea?
Did David Johansen ever think in 1973 that in 2006 the New York Dolls would be playing a free show in a tourist shopping mall?
Why doesn’t Sylvain Sylvain be quiet?
Is a song punk if it has harmonica in it?

Then when the show was over I wondered why they shut down the damned Dunkin Donuts at 9:00 PM on a Friday night and where the hell we were supposed to get a cup of coffee down there, but that was pretty much it.

Thanks for reading my blog post this time, and may God bless.

Comments

[Former Assistant Mike]

I was there, too!

I thought all the same thought you were thinking -- except the ones about the backpack.

My boyfriend remarked, "I expected to see at least a few trannies in this crowd."

"I see only the one," I replied, gesturing discretely. "Remember, we're thirty feet from a food court. This looks like a mostly 'FMU' crowd."

Yet I didn't see you! Did you see me?

( Just kidding. )

So many knit shirts and baseball caps! I wondered when someone might suddenly start -- fishing!

GOD, I wish I had seen you.

[Former Assistant Mike]

re. Iggy vs. David J. --

Somehow, I've attended more Iggy performances than any other act.

A few years ago he played Irving Plaza where occurred perhaps my all-time favorite moment in rock 'n roll. Iggy was yanking college boys onto the stage and then chucking them back into the crowd. An apparition took form behind him. For a moment, I thought I saw two Iggys at once -- the mighty Iggy, the one who was singing, whose veins were popping so lush his skin looked like greased corduroy -- and then there was a spectral, bony Iggy, some sort of 'monkey's paw' Iggy shambling across the stage. Each was all but naked. The singing Iggy seemed to sense his ghostly doppleganger. He spun to face him. Both froze. I realized the spectral 'Iggy' was actually Brooklyn's own Robert Lund, who had apparently passed insubstantial through Iggy's entire security team. He waved sloppily at Iggy, two-handed. Iggy blanched as if --understandable -- he were seeing his own ghost. Iggy pointed at Robert and mouthed, "YOU." Robert shrugged and smiled, "Hey, man." Then the rock 'n roll crashed over me like a wave, as a crowd-surfing frat boy leapt directly unto the top of my skull and knocked me unconscious.

Iggy Pop would murder David Johansen. No doubt about that -- unless David brought a gun. In any case, I'm sure David would leave some terrific last words.

[Former Assistant R. Stevie]

I wasn't there -- fyeh!?! -- but boy am I impressed by your humerrous writing skills on this funny post. Great read. Do it some more.

[Bill W]

If Sylvain was quiet, there'd only be one living Doll.