New York Dolls: Too Much, Too Soon
Ron Ross, Phonograph Record, April 1974
"WE DON'T PLAY too good, but we dance as bad as we want," Archie Bell once said by way of introduction to his fabulous Drells from Houston, Texas, and it's an apt paradox to keep in mind when one considers the showdown that is sure to follow the release of the New York Dolls' second adventure in vinyl, Too Much, Too Soon. The Dolls, perhaps even more than is good for them, have become our rock and roll mirror, the glass through which we darkly divine (or damn) our rising expectations and growing frustrations with the part pop should play in our lives. Put the Dolls on a rack already greasy with bloody, boring bits of Bowie, the Stones, Alice, and (quick Henry, the Flit) Lou Reed, and they'll die from that horribly contagious social disease peculiar to cockteasers who get knocked up and rock stars who are NO FUN.
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