When an iconic band releases new material, questions often arise about their motives — the stereotype of the washed-up rocker rebounding to semi-fame is becoming increasingly familiar. Although the New York Dolls are most likely sincere in their motivation for releasing Dancing Backward in High Heels, it goes without saying that being a cross-dressing 1970s glam rocker doesn’t come with a 401(k).
Dancing is a confusing attempt at reinvention by these pioneering proto-punks, in large part because only two of the original members are still in the band. Although the new members are certainly qualified — Blondie’s Frank Infante is on guitar and Louis XIV’s Jason Hill helms the bass — the group now lacks the cocksure strut and reckless livelihood that built its reputation.
Most of the album bears no semblance to the Dolls’ trashy glam of yesteryear. The single, “Fool for You Baby,” tries hard to lay down shimmering Pixies harmonies, but ultimately falls short. “Baby, Tell Me What I’m On” is a totally uncharacteristic reggae jammer that’s so vanilla it might as well have been penned by Don Imus — it’s got no backbone.
In the Dolls’ heyday, singer David Johansen was something of a sex symbol, but that was decades ago. His vocals are smoky, but in a way more like your uncle’s Oldsmobile than seminal punk club CBGB. Guitarist Sylvain Sylvain is a capable player, and although his style is different than it used to be, it’s still unmistakably his.
Not all is lost on Dancing, despite its shortcomings. “Talk To Me Baby” is at least somewhat reminiscent of early Dolls and its contemporaries. T. Rex fuzz chugs along over a chunky beat that would make original drummer Jerry Nolan proud, and the prominent girl-group vocals are a nice touch.
“You Don’t Have to Cry” is a surprisingly Bowie-esque acoustic strummer, and it redeems some of the album’s weaker moments. “Round and Round She Goes” is a pleasant enough old-school rocker, but it pales in comparison to the Dolls’ back catalogue.
Many great rock bands have deteriorated with age, and the Dolls are no exception. The group is no longer glam nor glamorous, but they’re trying as hard as they can, which counts for something.
Reunion albums usually strive to get back to basics, but the Dolls have opted for a late-career genre expansion that fell between aging weirdness and a last-ditch effort. It’s hard to say whether or not the Dolls were actually compelled to craft this album or whether the rent was too damn high, but what’s for sure is that Dancing is a cash cow wearing fishnets and lipstick.
