Johnny Thunders is gone now. And that is a tragedy to be sure.

But tragedy is a funny thing, and its relationship to great art has been well-documented over the years. So, it comes as no surprise those 30 years worth of tragedy would provide the impetus for the New York Dolls’ stunning—if not wholly unexpected—resurgence.

Consider the fact that the Dolls are three decades removed from the Greenwich glam and boy-toy buzz that got them off the ground, that Andy Warhol is dead and he took the ’70s with him, or that Ziggy Stardust grew up and Malcolm McLaren moved on.

Consider the fact that Billy Murcia has long since passed, as have Jerry Nolan and—more recently—Arthur “Killer” Kane. Consider that the record industry has been privatized, scandalized, completely American Idolized, leaving little if any room for retro-rockers in their 20s, let alone their 50s.

Consider how a band that wasn’t commercially viable the first time round finds the chutzpah to reemerge with only two of its founding members left intact. Consider how they avoid falling victim to the pitfalls of a pop-stardom past.

I know. It’s a lot to consider. But how does a band pull off that type of comeback without risking the cult status they’ve already achieved?

Well, if you’re the New York Dolls—or at least what’s left of them—the first thing you don’t do is reach for some lip gloss and a pair of 30-year old thigh highs. The next thing you don’t do is try to replicate the decadence of mid-‘70s glam by writing a collection of pill-popping, acid-dropping rock tunes, despite the fact you’ve been (mostly) clean and sober for more than a decade.

And under no circumstances do you bullshit yourself or anyone else into believing you’re someone or something that you’re not anymore.

Instead, you gather 30 years worth of anger and frustration, triumph and adulation, and you use it to ground your music in a way you never have before—happiness becomes an old blues song, nostalgia becomes a sorrowful joy, and the rock ‘n’ roll landscape becomes a punishing world.

You write about life after the fall and all the blows that came with it. You openly acknowledge the Poindexter pompadour, the fishnets and cigarettes, the lessons learned and lost along the way. And you sprinkle it all with the wink of an eye, as if to say, “We’ve come to a point where we can look back and smile.”

One Day It Will Please Us To Remember Even This (Roadrunner, 2006) is the story of a band whose expectations never met reality and all the implications they had for the members who persevered. It’s also a stark reminder that the best band out there may still find itself with two month’s worth of back rent and a cabinet full of Ramen Noodles.

David Johansen and Sylvain Sylvain, the only surviving members of the original Dolls, existed long before MTV and YouTube put ugly rock stars out of business, and the Dolls themselves are the unfortunate reality for every indie band that claims they would’ve been huge if only they’d come along in the late ‘60s or early ‘70s.

Sylvain and Johansen seem to have made their peace with the past. Perhaps they even take solace in the idea that if Johnny Thunders hadn’t gone the way of his vices, it’s possible this reunion would’ve never taken place. It’s no secret that Johansen and Thunders were at odds when the New York Dolls drifted apart.

For years there was talk of the Dolls getting back together, but Johansen wasn’t picking up his phone, and Sylvain’s phone wasn’t even ringing. It wasn’t until Morrissey made a call in 2004 and suggested everyone play nice that things began to gel.

But that was before Arthur Kane was diagnosed with Leukemia, before Roadrunner Records and South by Southwest came-a-courtin’, before the old New York Dolls enlisted some new New York Dolls to join them in the studio. And it was long before the Dolls were completely confident they’d be welcomed back with open arms.

This time around the Dolls got it right. And that has a lot to do with the fact that they weren’t spending their nights drinking till dawn in a back booth at Max’s Kansas City, that the band was focused and ready when they went into the studio each day, that there was a renewed sense of optimism replacing the excess and in-fighting of old.

And that might seem like a very un-rock ‘n’ roll way for the New York Dolls to conduct business, but the result is a much tighter sound that somehow still maintains the grit and conviction of the original—even elevates it in some ways. Beneath it all lies the idea that the New York Dolls were (and are) about something more than glitz; that substance was (and still is) at the heart of their music.

All of which makes one wonder what the resurgent Dolls might do for an encore.

It took more than 30 years worth of heartache, loss and neglect for them to reunite and record one stellar album. The question is: do they have another 30 years worth of pain and hardship to spare?

Watch: old NY Dolls “Looking For a Kiss” [at youtube.com]

Watch: new NY Dolls “Gotta Get Away From Tommy” [at youtube.com]

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