Motley Crue - Red, White & Crue
After years of torture at the hands of Nirvana and Radiohead inspired miserabilism, people are starting to crave the visceral thrill of pure rock n roll debauchery. You only have to look at the success of the Darkness and then cult bands such as Turbonegro to realize that if there ever was time for a Motley Crue revival then that time is most definitely now.
Their tales of rock n roll excess are the things folklore are made of. The legendary fights which make the Gallaghers squabbling look like bitch fights over make up, the drug consumption which has left members for dead, the legendary Pamela Anderson home video and debilitating diseases are the things that have taken on a Spinal Tap-esque mythology. Even now a sample of their current tour reveals strippers, dwarfs and exploding drums kits.
But what of the music? Has that stood the test of time or should it be confined to Room 101? "Girls Girls Girls" is their calling card and like all the best song, this song alone says everything you need to know about Motley Crue. Even down to the motorcycle revving up at the into is anthemic dumb ass rock that Beavis & Butthead and Wayne's World would see as like totally rad, dude. On the flipside "If I Die Tomorrow" is a track left of punk pop band Simple Plan's recent album. Whether it's indicative of the new album remains to be seen, but it's no great departure from what we've come to expect. Maybe a little more mature, but that's to be expected at their age even if they out-party bands 20 years younger.
With a selection of hits including "Wild Side" with it's chest beating fists in the air call to arms, "Home Sweet Home" the sort of ballad that Justin Hawkins would sell his mother to write, "Too Young To Fall In Love" with it's almost disco rock leanings, and "Primal Scream", "Dr Feelgood" and "Sick Love Song" make up a total of 18 songs with searing guitar solos, crunching power chords and shock horror, the odd ballad.
Like Alice Cooper, Iron Maiden and AC/DC, Motley Crue should be a right of passage for any self-respecting rock fan. Turn it up to 11, get those air guitar poses and those Pammy Anderson posters on the wall - for now is the time to f**king rock!!!
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