Rock ’n’ Roll Coelacanth

I was only dimly aware of what The New York Dolls were. Their heyday was pre-1980 and my consciousness was alcohol-based then. When I was a dosser in the royal parks of London, I may have read about the Dolls if some pages of New Musical Express or Melody Maker were among my bedding.

During most of my sober years, the Dolls have jointly been disbanded and severally dropping dead. I've been otherwise preoccupied. They came to San Diego Street Scene as a last-minute stand in for My Chemical Romance who were unable to attend perhaps ironically because of serious burns sustained while shooting their next video.

And The Dolls were a welcome relief from the bands described by one local reporter as Interpol wannabes. On most of the stages, the early bands of both days seemed to be repeating the same song, which gradually morphed into a grand finale that made me realise, "Oh yeah. I've heard this on the radio."

I don't remember hearing the Dolls on the radio. But they had a repertoire. They were entertaining. They had personality. And they presented themselves as the kind of rock 'n' roll veterans we like to think should still to be out on the road working somewhere.

Lisa thought it was funny to see David Johansen reading his lyrics from a music stand. I was impressed that he could do it without bifocals.

God botherer Robert Ephrata (aka Robert Warner) picketed in front of the San Diego Street Scene venue during the concerts on Aug. 5 and 6. At the top of a long stick, he held a picture of a man wearing a crown of thorns under the question, "Do you know who this is?" Although I repeatedly asked him where he got the Kanye West poster, he just ignored me. I don't think that was very Christian of him.