There is so much gel in this group, I can't tell if it's Nikki Sixx or Vanity 6 on the CD insert. But let's not be hairophobes. Motley Crue rocks. Or perhaps that sentence should read, Motley Crue rocked. If you don't agree, stop reading this article and await Dave Matthews' latest overrated slosh. If you agree, keep reading -- you might not like all you hear, but it's the honest-to-God truth -- somewhat surprisingly, the latest Crue CD is actually pretty average. Not bad for an aging heavy metal band.
Let's start off on a positive note. Mick Mars is one of the most underrated guitarists in all of metaldom. As always, his playing is dead-on with all the precision of a skull tattoo and all the aggression of three, no, four chord rock and roll. Mick needs to get in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame more than that other persona with the four letter word names, Pete Rose, needs to get into the other less renowned Hall of Fame, but, alas, neither will. Pete, because of gambling, and Mick, because of lyrics. The Crue is Grammy-less because when it comes to songwriting, they're clueless. At least past efforts have tried. What happened to the Elmore Leonard punch from "Dr. Feelgood?"
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"Rat-tail Jimmy is a second hand hood/ He deals out of Hollywood" I don't want to turn this into a motley crucifixion, but the moments of brief Rimbaudian scatological poetic inspiration that save "Feelgood" are lacking from the latest Crue release, which has the interestingly titled songs "White Punks on Dope" and "Punched in the Teeth by Love" but then merely repeats the chorus ten times between guitar solos. Or worse, these lyrics from "1st Band on the Moon": "My lord is not my lord/ nor should I know him/ Were he in favor as in humor altered. So help me every spirit sanctified/ As I have spoken for you all my best/ And stood within the blank of his displeasure/ For my..."
Oh, excuse me. Those are lines from Desdemona in "Othello." The two can be confused easily. Here are the sample lyrics from "1st Band on the Moon": There's a problem with the girls/ here on Earth/ They stopped acting dizzy/ wearing miniskirts" Painful, isn't it?
Vince, come, follow us into the future, the year 2000. It's OK, don't be frightened, here's a Rage Against the Machine album, yes, it's OK, Vince, nobody will hurt you, I think there's a spare umlaut in the refrigerator, help yourself.
Let's just put things this way--"Hollywood Ending" should've been the title track. And it's no "Home Sweet Home," by any stretch of the imagination, or lack thereof. Even the fun-loving charm (did I just use those words?) of "Girls, Girls, Girls" doesn't come across on "Dragstrip Superstar." It's like listening to a demo tape of your dad's band, if your dad's a lech.
Was Tommy Lee that integral to the magical mystical Motley formula fans once adored? The answer is nope. Randy Castillo may look like Steve Buscemi playing the role of John Christ in "The Story of Danzig," but he still drums sufficiently, using standard length drumsticks. So it's not Randy's fault. It's not Mick's, by any means. That leaves Nikki or Vince. Like most metal bands, you barely hear the bass in the mix anyway, so I'm putting the blame firmly on Mr. Neil. His voice sounds so tired, so weak, so old. There is a cutoff point to the number of cigarettes you can choke down before those perfect notes from "Kickstart My Heart" become unreachable. With new tracks like "Hell on High Heels," Vince sounds like he's not even trying to reach those old notes. Tommy Lee did the smart thing by hooking up with younger voices (Fred Durst), new bandwagon sounds (metal-hop) and occasionally Pamela (Lee Anderson).
Perhaps the problem lies in the production. Bob Rock is sadly missing in the production spot for "New Tattoo" and more than anything, that may be the real problem behind the new Crue. Take songs like "Without You" and "Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)" and put them in an inept producer's hands, or at least a sub-Bob Rock producer's hands, and you get "New Tattoo"'s title track and the whiny "Fake."
The biggest disappointment on the album, though, comes from its lack of maturity. Watching the Beasties grow from misogyny to Tibetan freedom spokesmen, or, say, Madonna growing from pop icon to trance music experimentalist keeps you interested in even the most hackneyed of artists previously known as teenagers. But the Crue needs to take a step towards adulthood. What happened to the glimpse of artistry when Motley Crue would take standard metal fare such as their "Slice of Your Pie" and unexpectedly switch gears mid-song into a Beatle-esque tribute? Those days are apparently over. The band is going it alone on their own label, Motley Records, and they sound frightened of trying risky innovative territory, making for bland rock and roll. And there's nothing worse than bland rock and roll. Even blank punk has some good points. Mick, pack up your bags with Motley Crue and get with a real MC. Everlast seems pretty accessible.
Grade: C
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