Sylvain Sylvain, a co-founding member and guitarist for the influential punk-rock/glam outfit New York Dolls throughout the 1970s, died earlier this week on Wednesday, January 13th, after a long battle with cancer. Sylvain revealed he’d been diagnosed with cancer back in April 2019 when he informed fans he was planning on having surgery followed by an extended recovery period.
A statement shared to Sylvain’s Facebook on Thursday evening reads,
As most of you know, Sylvain battled cancer for the past two and 1/2 years. Though he fought it valiantly, yesterday he passed away from this disease. While we grieve his loss, we know that he is finally at peace and out of pain. Please crank up his music, light a candle, say a prayer and let’s send this beautiful doll on his way.
Sylvain played rhythm guitar in the New York Dolls beginning in the early 1970s and remained with the group alongside singer David Johansen until 1977. Sylvain played on the band’s first two studio albums, New York Dolls (1973) and Too Much Too Soon (1974), along with One Day It Will Please Us to Remember Even This which wasn’t released until 2006.
After the dissolution of the Dolls, Sylvain released a number of albums in the late-70s and into the 80s as part of various solo projects including Syl Sylvain and the Teardrops and Sylvain Sylvain and The Criminal$.
Related: Martin Scorsese To Direct A Documentary On New York Dolls Singer David Johansen For Showtime
Lenny Kaye, known for his playing as a member of the Patti Smith Group, shared a lengthy, heartfelt obituary to go with the announcement of Sylvain’s death, reading,
SYL: An Appreciation
Lenny Kaye
Sylvain Sylvain, the heart and soul of the New York Dolls, bearer of the Teenage News, passed into his next astral incarnation on Wednesday, January 13, 2021.
Syl loved rock and roll. His onstage joy, his radiant smile as he chopped at his guitar, revealed the sense of wonder he must have felt at the age of 10, emigrating from his native Cairo with his family in 1961, the ship pulling into New York Harbor and seeing the Statue of Liberty for the first time.
It was he who looked across Lexington Ave. and saw the sign for the New York Doll hospital. Syl and a high school friend, Billy Murcia, were in the rag trade then, the aptly named Truth and Soul, handknit sweaters with a side of rockattitude. Hooking up with another classmate, John Genzale, and then, as bands will, Arthur Kane, and David Johansen, and Jerry Nolan, they became a quasar in the rock firmament; embodying trash, glam, garage-to-punk, the ambisexual affirmation of music played louder.
His role in the band was as lynchpin, keeping the revolving satellites of his bandmates in precision. Though he tried valiantly to keep the band going, in the end the Dolls’ moral fable overwhelmed them, not before seeding an influence that would engender many rock generations yet to come.
The New York Dolls heralded the future, made it easy to dance to. From the time I first saw their poster appear on the wall of Village Oldies in 1972, advertising a residency at the Mercer Hotel up the street, throughout their meteoric ascent and shooting star flame-out, the New York Dolls were the heated core of this music we hail, the band that makes you want to form a band.
Syl never stopped. In his solo lifeline, he was welcomed all over the world, from England to Japan, but most of all the rock dens of New York City, which is where I caught up with him a couple of years ago at the Bowery Electric. Still Syl. His corkscrew curls, tireless bounce, exulting in living his dream, asking the crowd to sing along, and so we will. His twin names, mirrored, becomes us.
Thank you Sylvain x 2, for your heart, belief, and the way you whacked that E chord.
Sleep Baby Doll.
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David Johansen and former New York Dolls guitarist Aaron Lee Tasjan were two of Sylvain’s colleagues who took to social media to remember the late musician on Thursday night.
