Perry's Pen

One of the great things about David Johansen is that he came from theatre, so he knew life was about playing a part, and play a part he did. And coming from a less-than-privileged background, he had to play that part FANTASTICALLY to get noticed. David didn’t follow The Yellow Brick Road. He walked the same broken sidewalks and rode the same disgusting subway cars as the rest of us.

God Bless David Johansen. He brought happiness to those of us dumb, lucky, or smart enough to find it.

David Johansen also knew that he was playing a part; he didn’t become the character offstage unless it was necessary for promotion. He separated the stage from the private, and he could also play many roles onstage. He was there for the NY Dolls, Buster Pointdexter, whatever the situation called for.

I once saw Morrissey in concert because the girl I was dating was a gigantic Smiths fan. I can’t remember much of the concert, except that Morrissey covering Trash by the NY Dolls was the highlight.

What scares me is when artists can’t separate onstage from offstage.

Morrissey epitomizes that inability, as do people like Henry Rollins and Ian MacKaye. Maybe Steve Albini failed to separate the stage from real life and dropped dead of a heart attack as a result.

Extreme examples are the idiots who dropped dead, acting like rock stars. A lot of them I like, a lot of them I hate.

But being onstage means just that: ACTING.

I think what David did was the American Dream. He crawled out of nowhere, worked his ass off, made a name for himself, inspired countless others, and will be remembered.

The people you left behind wish we were cool as you, Mr. Johansen.

Thank you for the gift you gave us, David Johansen. RIP, Dear SIR.

There would be no Pistols without you, no Clash, no Dead Kennedys. Heck, not even any Butthole Surfers!