19 Days to Find a Home
Mötley Crüe is a great pop band. Yes, they're silly, and soft when compared to their biggest rivals (Metallica and Guns N' Roses among them), but they've got an undeniable knack for hooks and melodies. If you ever thought George Michael or Billy Idol needed louder guitars, girl do I have a band for you.
"Home Sweet Home" was greeted by longtime fans as a sellout in 1985. A sappy piano ballad must've felt like a slap in a face to kids who bought Shout at the Devil for the pentagram on the cover. But 30 years later, it sounds like a coup to catapult these roughnecks into the mainstream, changing the joke and slipping the yoke. Nikki Sixx is smarter than he gets any credit for being (Theatre of Pain, the album which hosts "Home Sweet Home", takes its name from Antonin Artaud), and I'm still dazzled by the massive trick he pulled by getting a song by the guys in The Dirt to be covered by Carrie Underwood for an American Idol theme. Of course her version had to cut Mick Mars' solo--maybe Mötley Crüe are too rough to write pop songs, after all.
Showing posts with label Mötley Crüe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mötley Crüe. Show all posts
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Mötley Crüe, "Kickstart My Heart"
Nobody really believes that this is Mötley Crüe's final tour, do they? Yadda yadda they've signed a contract saying they'll never tour again--these are not guys who are known for being law-abiders, or for their integrity, or for showing any concern for their legacy and reputation. Vince Neil's voice may be almost as dead as the guy from Hanoi Rocks that he killed with his car, but that's not going to stop them. Count on the "Fück the Cöntract" tour coming to your town before 2020.
Mötley Crüe is not a cool band, and it's easy to hear why Metallica and Slayer considered them the enemy. But they're much darker and heavier than the glam metal bands they were marketed with. More importantly, they're an excellent pop band. If you've ever thought that Michael Jackson would sound better with raging guitars and stadium-sized fills, Mötley Crüe is your band. I'll even give them credit for being more of a metal band than their VH1 contemporaries, like Bon Jovi, Aerosmith or Def Leppard.
You're going to try to not like this song, and it isn't going to work.
"Kickstart My Heart" is probably as close as Mötley Crüe will get to a signature song. Sex, drugs and cars led by two stolen riffs (Montrose's "Bad Motor Scooter" and Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love,") a blazing solo and a shoutalong chorus. The star-making sheen of new producer Bob Rock brought out an explosive, cinematic sound that nailed the perfect blend of Shout at the Devil's grime and the polish of Girls, Girls Girls. If you're wondering why Mötley Crüe is headlining arenas this summer and not Twisted Sister, here's a good place to remind yourself.
Mötley Crüe is not a cool band, and it's easy to hear why Metallica and Slayer considered them the enemy. But they're much darker and heavier than the glam metal bands they were marketed with. More importantly, they're an excellent pop band. If you've ever thought that Michael Jackson would sound better with raging guitars and stadium-sized fills, Mötley Crüe is your band. I'll even give them credit for being more of a metal band than their VH1 contemporaries, like Bon Jovi, Aerosmith or Def Leppard.
You're going to try to not like this song, and it isn't going to work.
"Kickstart My Heart" is probably as close as Mötley Crüe will get to a signature song. Sex, drugs and cars led by two stolen riffs (Montrose's "Bad Motor Scooter" and Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love,") a blazing solo and a shoutalong chorus. The star-making sheen of new producer Bob Rock brought out an explosive, cinematic sound that nailed the perfect blend of Shout at the Devil's grime and the polish of Girls, Girls Girls. If you're wondering why Mötley Crüe is headlining arenas this summer and not Twisted Sister, here's a good place to remind yourself.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Jamie Casino's Super Bowl Commercial
Historically, the Super Bowl is one of those places where metal goes to die, whether it's Aerosmith stomping out all of their Toys in the Attic credibility with 'N Sync and Britney Spears or Mötley Crüe repurposing "Kickstart My Heart" for Kia. Don't even get me started on Slash and the Black Eyed Peas. Yet a friend set me lawyer Jamie Casino's metal-tinged attorney ad (aired locally on a Savannah station), and I am all about it.
The music is by Nick Nolan, who doesn't have much of an internet presence (yet) but sounds like Pepper Keenan-era Corrosion of Conformity.
The music is by Nick Nolan, who doesn't have much of an internet presence (yet) but sounds like Pepper Keenan-era Corrosion of Conformity.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Ozzy Osbourne, No More Tears
Zakk Wylde is metal's greatest one album wonder. He's written a few good songs with Ozzy in the past 20 years, as well as many bad ones with Black Label Society, a band that's apparently only enjoyed by Guitar World readers. But give him his due, in all the endorsements, record sales and touring slots that he deserves, never forgetting that he co-wrote and played lead on the best solo album by heavy metal's Elvis.
Nearly everyone points to Blizzard of Ozz or Diary of a Madman, the two albums that Ozzy wrote with Randy Rhoads, as the towering achievements of his solo career. They're not far off. But for songwriting, Ozzy peaked with 1991's No More Tears. Like a few of his metal legend contemporaries, mainly Judas Priest, Ozzy was both distancing himself from glam metal and competing with the rising thrashers of the early '90s. That sense of urgency, plus the enlistment of Motörhead's Lemmy and budding guitar god Wylde, ending up giving Ozzy an album that held up not only with his Randy Rhoads records but his indelible work on the first six Black Sabbath records.
It was "I Don't Want to Change the World," not "Crazy Train" or "Bark at the Moon," that made me a dedicated Ozzy fan. That stadium-sized chorus dishes out one of metal's most badass messages. While bands as varied as Mötley Crüe and Slayer were trying to scare the pants off of parents, preachers and politicians, Ozzy did so without even trying, or so he claimed. "Don't you try to teach me no original sin/I don't need your pity for the shape I'm in," goes one defiant couplet. "I don't want to change the world/I don't want the world to change me."
No More Tears also is the last genuinely creepy Ozzy album. Long before he was metal's (and eventually, with The Osbournes, America's) goofy dad, Ozzy could chill you with a child abuse narrative, from the gleefully irksome "Mr. Tinkertrain" to the equally haunting and infectious title track. "Hellraiser," an ode to Clive Barker's Pinhead, thrashed hard enough for Motörhead to record their own version for March or Die.
Ozzy has always had an excellent team, but never any with more chemistry than the one he has here, from powerhouse drummer Castillo to longtime bassist Bob Daisley, playing on his last ever Ozzy record. But the first mate, of course, is Wylde, whose playing spills out into mountains of riffage and solos that always seem to hit the sky and somehow end at the right time. Other than Slash, no hard rocker was making his axe sound this simultaneously professional and spontaneous.
But Ozzy also came into his own as a balladeer on No More Tears. "Mama, I'm Coming Home" put the last ten years of power ballads in their place, deservedly becoming the album's biggest hit and reportedly earning co-writer Lemmy more than he had earned in his previous 20 years as a musician. A perfect pop song played on metal instruments, it's only matched by the equally lovely "Time After Time," making No More Tears home to the two best ballads that Ozzy ever recorded. Giving any weight to songs played at this pace is no easy task, as shown by Ozzy's attempts to recreate their success, but here he put himself at the top of the game. Think of Ozzy's only peers among hard rock frontmen--David Lee Roth, Brian Johnson, maybe Steven Tyler or Paul Stanley--and imagine any of them trying to carry either of these songs.
One of the many things that has set Ozzy apart from his peers is his ability to end an album well--remind yourself that "Steal Away (The Night)", "Diary of a Madman" and "Shot in the Dark" are all closers. No More Tears tops itself off with one of Ozzy's best notes, the wistful "Road to Nowhere," wherein the Ozzzman muses, "The wreckage of my past is haunting me/It just won't leave me alone." As he told us nine songs ago, Ozzy doesn't want to change the world. He didn't set out to be the Christian Right's worst nightmare, but he became it just by being being born with an inimitable voice and a knack for taking risks. The rest of us wouldn't have him any other way.
Reflecting on No More Tears today, it sounds even more special when considering how short the magic lasted. The production and songwriting both got soggy, Wylde got caught up in the Guitarist Wars and started overplaying. Ozzy's voice and body can no longer keep up with his mind. But no reality TV shows, tabloid appearances, pinch harmonics exhaustion or inebriated performances can make No More Tears any less awesome.
Nearly everyone points to Blizzard of Ozz or Diary of a Madman, the two albums that Ozzy wrote with Randy Rhoads, as the towering achievements of his solo career. They're not far off. But for songwriting, Ozzy peaked with 1991's No More Tears. Like a few of his metal legend contemporaries, mainly Judas Priest, Ozzy was both distancing himself from glam metal and competing with the rising thrashers of the early '90s. That sense of urgency, plus the enlistment of Motörhead's Lemmy and budding guitar god Wylde, ending up giving Ozzy an album that held up not only with his Randy Rhoads records but his indelible work on the first six Black Sabbath records.
It was "I Don't Want to Change the World," not "Crazy Train" or "Bark at the Moon," that made me a dedicated Ozzy fan. That stadium-sized chorus dishes out one of metal's most badass messages. While bands as varied as Mötley Crüe and Slayer were trying to scare the pants off of parents, preachers and politicians, Ozzy did so without even trying, or so he claimed. "Don't you try to teach me no original sin/I don't need your pity for the shape I'm in," goes one defiant couplet. "I don't want to change the world/I don't want the world to change me."
No More Tears also is the last genuinely creepy Ozzy album. Long before he was metal's (and eventually, with The Osbournes, America's) goofy dad, Ozzy could chill you with a child abuse narrative, from the gleefully irksome "Mr. Tinkertrain" to the equally haunting and infectious title track. "Hellraiser," an ode to Clive Barker's Pinhead, thrashed hard enough for Motörhead to record their own version for March or Die.
Ozzy has always had an excellent team, but never any with more chemistry than the one he has here, from powerhouse drummer Castillo to longtime bassist Bob Daisley, playing on his last ever Ozzy record. But the first mate, of course, is Wylde, whose playing spills out into mountains of riffage and solos that always seem to hit the sky and somehow end at the right time. Other than Slash, no hard rocker was making his axe sound this simultaneously professional and spontaneous.
But Ozzy also came into his own as a balladeer on No More Tears. "Mama, I'm Coming Home" put the last ten years of power ballads in their place, deservedly becoming the album's biggest hit and reportedly earning co-writer Lemmy more than he had earned in his previous 20 years as a musician. A perfect pop song played on metal instruments, it's only matched by the equally lovely "Time After Time," making No More Tears home to the two best ballads that Ozzy ever recorded. Giving any weight to songs played at this pace is no easy task, as shown by Ozzy's attempts to recreate their success, but here he put himself at the top of the game. Think of Ozzy's only peers among hard rock frontmen--David Lee Roth, Brian Johnson, maybe Steven Tyler or Paul Stanley--and imagine any of them trying to carry either of these songs.
One of the many things that has set Ozzy apart from his peers is his ability to end an album well--remind yourself that "Steal Away (The Night)", "Diary of a Madman" and "Shot in the Dark" are all closers. No More Tears tops itself off with one of Ozzy's best notes, the wistful "Road to Nowhere," wherein the Ozzzman muses, "The wreckage of my past is haunting me/It just won't leave me alone." As he told us nine songs ago, Ozzy doesn't want to change the world. He didn't set out to be the Christian Right's worst nightmare, but he became it just by being being born with an inimitable voice and a knack for taking risks. The rest of us wouldn't have him any other way.
Reflecting on No More Tears today, it sounds even more special when considering how short the magic lasted. The production and songwriting both got soggy, Wylde got caught up in the Guitarist Wars and started overplaying. Ozzy's voice and body can no longer keep up with his mind. But no reality TV shows, tabloid appearances, pinch harmonics exhaustion or inebriated performances can make No More Tears any less awesome.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Ten Metal Bands to See Before You Die: AC/DC
If AC/DC just sat there onstage while a tape played "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap," "T.N.T.," "You Shook Me All Night Long," "Back in Black" and "Highway to Hell," they'd still earn consideration for this list. But as anyone who has seen The Who this century can tell you, playing great songs does not make you a great live band.
40 years into one of the most incredible careers in audio history, AC/DC are still claiming metal's greatest dancer, swinging from the clappers of Hell's Bells, giving us a Whole Lotta Rosie and leaving everything in their wake Thunderstruck. Getting had, getting took and telling folks it's harder than it looks.
By working their way into the 200 Million Sold club without ever deviating from the harder-than-hard rock formula that made them famous, AC/DC makes success look as easy as "The Jack." Then again, nobody has ever played those three chords with the kind of gleeful punch that Angus gives them, not to mention the wildman blues-metal freakout solo that often takes over "Let There Be Rock." The most famous Keith Richards quote about his guitars ("Give me five minutes and I'll make 'em all sound the same") can be applied to Angus Young. But give his admirers four decades, and none of them will sound like him.
No great guitarist this side of Prince has made his instrument such an enthralling part of his performance, without taking away from the playing. Watching Angus Young with a Gibson is akin to watching James Brown with a microphone stand. "I'm a rotten guitar player if I'm standing still," Angus has said, and while I don't believe it, you can tell that he does.
AC/DC does not have many of peers, but even the ones who come closest are put to shame by AC/DC's show. They're not pretending to like each other (Aerosmith, Van Halen,) physically ravaged by their decades of drug abuse (Black Sabbath, Mötley Crüe) or dressing up their guitarist to look like the guy they kicked out (KISS, Guns N' Roses). AC/DC prefer to keep their drama beneath them, where it belongs. They continue to set examples for all younger artists, meaning nearly everyone, and meaning nobody who puts on a show like these guys do.
40 years into one of the most incredible careers in audio history, AC/DC are still claiming metal's greatest dancer, swinging from the clappers of Hell's Bells, giving us a Whole Lotta Rosie and leaving everything in their wake Thunderstruck. Getting had, getting took and telling folks it's harder than it looks.
By working their way into the 200 Million Sold club without ever deviating from the harder-than-hard rock formula that made them famous, AC/DC makes success look as easy as "The Jack." Then again, nobody has ever played those three chords with the kind of gleeful punch that Angus gives them, not to mention the wildman blues-metal freakout solo that often takes over "Let There Be Rock." The most famous Keith Richards quote about his guitars ("Give me five minutes and I'll make 'em all sound the same") can be applied to Angus Young. But give his admirers four decades, and none of them will sound like him.
No great guitarist this side of Prince has made his instrument such an enthralling part of his performance, without taking away from the playing. Watching Angus Young with a Gibson is akin to watching James Brown with a microphone stand. "I'm a rotten guitar player if I'm standing still," Angus has said, and while I don't believe it, you can tell that he does.
AC/DC does not have many of peers, but even the ones who come closest are put to shame by AC/DC's show. They're not pretending to like each other (Aerosmith, Van Halen,) physically ravaged by their decades of drug abuse (Black Sabbath, Mötley Crüe) or dressing up their guitarist to look like the guy they kicked out (KISS, Guns N' Roses). AC/DC prefer to keep their drama beneath them, where it belongs. They continue to set examples for all younger artists, meaning nearly everyone, and meaning nobody who puts on a show like these guys do.
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