New box set proves Dion was more than just teen idol

Published: Saturday, December 16, 2000


Both Dylan and Simon contribute testimonials to "Dion: King of the New York Streets" (The Right Stuff, $39.98) a 3-CD box set that is not only a condensed history of a real rock 'n' roller, but of rock 'n' roll itself. Dave Marsh, who offers a passionate essay in the accompanying liner notes, pretty much nails it: "There was always something deeper there. ... It was there right from the start."

It was already in place in 1959's "A Teenager in Love," one of the first hits Dion DiMucci of the Bronx DiMuccis had with his doo-wop group the Belmonts. He was, we immediately understood, not just another dreamy teen idol with one name, looking to "mature" from American Bandstand to the Copa. So when he followed pop smashes "Runaround Sue" and "The Wanderer" with an impossibly bluesy "Ruby Baby," it was a confirmation: Dion had something deeper on his mind.

In the first burst of Beatlemania, Dion seemed to disappear along with the instantly redundant pompadoured popsters with whom he was often confused. But in truth, he had gone underground before underground was cool, cutting an album of blues and introspective folk music that his record label had no idea what to do with. He also became a drug addict, and while he had allegedly cleaned up before recording Dick Holler's heartfelt ballad of murdered dreams, "Abraham, Martin and John," it's clear the man was hurting.

The success of that song afforded Dion membership in the Sensitive Singer-Songwriters of the '70s Club, but he never really fit in all that flannel. And in 1972, he reunited with the Belmonts for a doo-wop show at Madison Square Garden, preserved on a live album that made clear the music was still vital. The box set, unfortunately, includes nothing from it, nor does it sample anything from the successful string of religious albums he made after becoming an Evangelical, ignoring not only some fine music, but yet another place Dion, and a generation, wandered.

And while "King of the New York Streets" rather blatantly begs reflection, it is less summation than proclamation. It says someone at 60 can still understand the pain of a teen-ager in love and command attention.