I should have damn well known that it was everything I expected. Everything, and it didn’t begin or end with the show.
Thursday March 10, 2005 I arrived at Rosemont at 5 on the dot. BH was waiting for me in his Caddy, and it was a cold one, but that didn’t stop the crowd of Crue fans who turned out in large numbers to catch the band that just can’t let go of 1989. As for that neither do the fans, and it’s a sad lot indeed.
Please don’t get me wrong. I had a blast in the 80’s. It was a fun time, but the calling of industrial music spawn from some of my old favorites Tangerine Dream, Kraftwerk and DEVO would be tainted darkly with the Wax Trax movement which would end up dictating my career in this industry for the better part of the 90’s. The fashion was fun, the music was great and the girls were the best. But that was 2 decades ago and we’re halfway through the third since then and it’s been awhile since Motley Crue were kings of the road the airwaves, the charts and MTV.
Don’t tell that to the 18,500 plus Crueheads who braved the elements in their finest concert attire this cold, dark and wet March night in a Chicago subburb.
The fun started innocently enough at a little pub called The Beacon Tavern, where the 24 oz. beer were a mere $3. This place was obviously a favorite after work stop for the locals because there were a lot of blue collar boys sharing beer and boasting loudly. They weren’t the type who take kindly to a guy with shoulder length jet black hair with clothes to match and a Static X “Keep Disco Evil” Tour jacket. And from the number of women in the joint 2 staff and a couple of middle aged ladies with an obvious lack of post 80’s fashion, one could easily imagine nightly fights spilling into the parking lot and nightly visits from Rosemont’s Boys in Blue, who were now on guard for the concert attendees.
We departed the pub becasue Bob was in a hurry and we got to the box office a lot earlier than needed. It was only $15 dollars to park a car at the venue.THAT IS ROBBERY. But that was the least of the forthcoming issues close at hand. For a writer who does most of his/my work at the venues of the inner city and no connection at Clear Channel anymore. (I miss Kate Darling dearly) the people working behind the glass could give a damn who I was, what I was doing, and how long I’d have to wait to get in. And that’s how it goes at these area/stadium shows. The guest list is always at the will call only minutes before the show begins. Throw in the fact that a lot of the security are off duty place officers and there is no chance, and I stress NO CHANCE IN HELL you are going to get the attention of the tour manager who is the go-to person in case there is an issue with the list such as not being, or being “told” you are not on it. Which was the first part of my dilemma, the guy at the window kept telling me I wasn’t on the list, but after awhile I persisted and he happened to find me, right where I said I’d be listed. My 1 ticket. Far from what I was promised by the fine folks who work for the Crue. We’ll get to that in a bit, because I’m not close to done.
Dan Locke arrived and he had in writing that he was to pick up his photo pass and had a ticket which we were giving to Bob. Well in Motleys fashion, the ticket would not materialize. Luckily I knew a girl who is a ticket broker and BH paid her $30 for a $50 seat and if there was a service charge it would have been a $60 seat. So on one hand it was a bargain, on the other, I do not agree with paying anything toward the Crue, especially now more than ever when I was willing to give the power that be the benefit of the doubt. I should never ever give anything the benefit of the doubt because I get stung every cotton picking time.
Dan wasn’t doing any better either. All of the other photographers that I was aware of had their credentials, Dan did not. Maybe they have something against blacks? No, not the Crue! Or maybe it’s MK, which would be more likely. But Dan not being as in your face as I am, could have easily been as victim of the overlooking that the brains who work for the venue typically do and they simply did not look or care to look in the correct places. So he managed to find someone he knew and got in on his word that he’d shoot and leave after 3 songs. And he gets his $15 returned from parking as well.
To fully appreciate my dismay for the situation to which you are reading, I do need to rewind some and lay down some of the events that lead up to my current feelings toward Motley Crue and the people who surround that organization.
Last September, a person who represented the Crue asked me to place a teaser banner on MK that would link to the then upcoming reunion tour and Best of CD. They wanted this for free, and would compensate us by allowing us giveaways, some swag and of course tickets to the shows. So I figured why not? Just because they aren’t in my top 10 as far as favorite bands, a lot of the people who read MK and visit the site daily , do. And that is my job, to provide service to you, my readers. Then after the tour in announced and tickets go on sale, I am contacted by management who want me to host a giveaway and or relapse party which we organized at NEO with ad possibility on 94.7 The Zone and in weekly papers, internet etc. I had a few phone meetings with the people behind the music and it was a go, and we were confirmed. But lo and behold, less than one week prior to the event which we were geared up to throw at NEO they pulled the plug. So, we’re fucked again. And to top it all off there was nothing at all provided in the way of any type of giveaway, but they on the other hand, got a free banner and lots of press, and I lean lots of press on the band. GOOD PRESS and that’s something that Motley and MK will NEVER have in common again. EVER!
And then it came time to request tickets. Tickets I was assured would not be a problem based on the events leading up to where we are at this point in the story. Basically they did not confirm my request which was cut down to one ticket till the day before the show, For fucks sake, like I’m putting my life on hold for Motley Crue! But, I had an ace in the hole, and Bob would be covered because Dan was offering me his extra ticket. The ticket which he had in writing printed up from the email, the ticket that wasn’t there when he went to collect. Basically if BH didn’t want to go I would have not even gone myself because I knew what was inside those big doors and behind the wall of security. Not only the band. But the fans.
No sooner were we in the door we were at the end of one of the many long lines for beer that was only $7.25 per cup. $7.25 for a lukewarm can of suds. That’s a fucking 12-pack of the same beer they were pouring. And the fans had already had plenty. Most of their indulgence were most likely induced in their cars en route to the big show. And from the glazed and hazed appearance in the vacant stares in their eyes, there was also a good bit of marijuana intake involved as well. They strutted their stuff as they paraded around the hallways of the arena. High fives were in the air, the men had already joined in with their typical preshow opening act of their own by screaming out MOTLEY FUCKING CRUE MOTHERFUCKERS! And the scratchy whiskey and cigarette hoarse vocals so common among the types of women who fit into this demographic was abundant as well. Their children, all 5 or 6 of them were at home with their respective fathers, or some babysitter who was sneaking her boyfriend in that night. One guy proudly walked his 8 year old son around sporting matching Crue shirts, I told Bob, it was child abuse. If the guys weren’t wearing a concert shirt, they had on a Hot Topic shirt, you know the type with flames or skulls gracing the itchy polyester. And if the mall favorites weren’t tucked into their their jeans they were untucked over their faded and dirty blue jeans topped off with a dirty pair of sneaks.
The ladies all modeled their own ensemble. I’d have to say that at least 85% of the women who came in packs, all had on blue jeans with black pumps under them and black leather jackets, if they were wearing jackets that is. And they clip-clopped all over the floor without rhythm and in the way that you know when they dance always need to balance themselves with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. Most common beverage of choice among this breed would be a Miller Lite.
And then there were the hairdo’s and Tattoos which screamed “WHITE TRASH!” adding ever so pleasantly to the spectacle. Didn’t any of these fellers hear the mullet jokes circulating beginning back in the mid-late 90’s till present day Americana? But don’t dare laugh at it or even look his way, because he’ll surely whoop yer faggot ass just for doing so. And whatever you do, avoid at all costs even engaging in any kind of conversation with his ol lady. This rule applies even if she instigates the banter, and she will, whether he’s in the pisser or in line for one of those $65 Crue hooded sweatshirts he just has to have. Even if you so much as ask her where the restroom is you’ll find yourself being picked up off the floor after he’s clocked the bejesus out of you and you’ll spend the rest of the evening with an icepack on your face and rubbing alcohol cleaning the scratch marks left from his filthy and untrimmed fingernails.
It’ imparitive to note that Bob is in a wheelchair, and that means even after he’s been shoved aside by crude and rude fans o the Crue, he still has to get to one of the two places designated for the handicapped. And these are NOT the best seats in the house, but like I said, I was now here and doing this for him. Besides BH can really handle his own. In a chair he endures more punishment of all of my friends with the exception of jSIN. But that doesn’t excuse the idiots who cold care less from not being polite and aware of his condition. Even more so what we were about to encounter next when it came to the handicapped seating situation.
We arrived at one of the handicapped wheelchair accessible areas which was over full. One of the guys who pushed a friend up there was arguing with security. I soon discovered the issue apparant, the chairs which were supposed to be one line across, were doubled up. Seems Slipknot who were in town the following night, wanted to see the show so they took over the other handicapped area forcing people who had designated tickets for that area into the area Bob and I were. Slipknow is a massively successful and right now but that doesn’t give them the right to put wheelchair bound ticket paying customers out of their seats so they can see the show. In fact, it’s one of the rudest things I’ve ever seen any band do. And the staff at the Allstate Arena should have had the AFA called on them. Maybe they did. I’m sure they’ll pay a nominal fine and we’ll never hear of it.
I walked back down to pick us up 2 more of the $7.25 beers and while in line became the focus of a very very drunk guy named John Glass who seemed overly impressed by my credentials to the point he had to scream it out to everyone who walked by. Folks, he wanted me to share his name with you all otherwise I wouldn’t have even brought it up. He was proud of his condition as he breathed his dragon breath on me and two other guys who just wanted their beer and a show. This guy was one of those who would not shut up, stumbled around got on everyone’s nerves and was just annoying. In fact he was fair representation to most of the attendees of the big show. And when I was finally at the front of the line and the first song kicked in and the stampede of running Motley loyalists would knock over anything and anyone in their way in order to get to their seat.
There was no opening act and after a 5 minute cartoon Motley kicked in at 8:30 and on a huge stage of 80’s proportions the did attempt to utilize it to their best. But they failed. Vince was huffing, missing lyrics and the only real energy of the show was Nikki Sixx who played the role of rock star the way he always has. For me who is numb to spine chilling performances at this point. (okay, I admit I sometimes do when it comes to a really intense performance, and I’ve even been guilty of shedding a tear in the last 5 years) I was very unimpressed and even more shitty by the fact of all I had to endure just to take a friend to relive a part of his youth that I chose to skip. The chapter titled Motley Crue really doesn’t enter into the AZ biography.
After 45 minutes the band took a 20 minute intermission. That’s right they couldn’t, for whatever reason and I hope it’s not for Mick, needed a rest after not even an hour of playing. A lot of fucking good it did the fans to make a piss stop and a beer run since Allstate stops selling beer at 930. So it was either run to the front of the line or piss. If you tried to piss and then get it line you’d be to far back to get served.
By the time the band took the stage again, I think we waited 4 more songs and left. I was bored and Bob, who is a fan, was unimpressed.
Perhaps the best review would be to post a few lines fro a Chart Attack review (www.chartattack.com) of a recent Canadian based performance of the Motlies. At least the reviewer did not hold prejudice due to being mislead into doing loads of press and free advertising for the organization who pretty much took advantage of our services.
The only way to watch the recent Motley Crue show was to go in with a sense of humour. Anyone expecting flawless musicianship, a tight band or anything less then full-on cheese was to be severely disappointed with Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Vince Neil and now-decrepit Mick Mars. Motley Crue are a band that never got better… just more popular.
Technically, the band were a mess. Other than being winded during “Kickstart My Heart,” Neil spent more time coercing the fans into singing than actually taking the vocal duties himself. The plethora of dancing girls, midgets riding motorcycles onto the stage for “Girls, Girls, Girls” and video footage seemed intended more to distract from the inconsistent performances than anything. Sixx spent more time with his hands in the air than actually playing his bass.
And what about Tommy Lee’s obligatory drum solo? It was so far-fetched and uninspired that he shouldn’t have bothered. Swinging back and forth between two electronic drum kits suspended above the stage, the gimmick was great in theory, but Lee was obviously going through the motions.
As was Nikki Sixx during his “solo,” a noise-fest combining distorted bass and synthesizers bleating away as a sea of sparks engulfed him. Goofy and pointless, it was obviously his vanity trip and little else.
Overall, thanks to all the ‘80s excess, The Crue did manage to keep things upbeat and thrill us. Shouting along to “Live Wire” was fun and the band’s own excitement at actually keeping it together kept things positive. Now if they could just learn to be as proficient as they are amusing.
And that my dear reader is doing a lot more justice to the band than I could in my own words. – AZ