Mötley Crüe,Motörhead, The Casanovas @BEC, Brisbane, 04/12/2005

Thu 8th Dec, 2005 in Gig Reviews

I used to listen to Mötley Crüe way back, alongside Metallica, Faith No More, Megadeth, Alice Cooper and a host of others. I had always wanted to witness the spectacle that was the Crüe, to see the theatrics first hand, the half naked girls, the fireballs and tattoos. Tonight was finally that night.

There was a motley crew (sic) of people from all walks of life and generations wandering around. Amongst them was a highly active security presence, including police. The best view was from the balcony, so up we went. We were patted down by security before we could ascend. The usual assortment of band shirts and boots were walking about, as well as the not so usual, like the girl in the tutu, the guy in the ‘70s disco/rock outfit, the six months pregnant lady in the strapless after five dress and heels or the shirtless man who was cracking his belt like a whip and licking it.

We’d been there for one drink when I noticed the baffled rock music behind the din. I didn’t know how long The Casanovas had been playing. I raced up the stairs, or tried to, this time there was an issue with security about the short length of chain attaching my keys. I had to wait until senior security could provide the okay.

By the time I was ushered to my seat The Casanovas were all but done. I managed to catch only their last three songs, not being familiar with their music I couldn’t tell you which. But I can say The Casanovas are a potent, balls-to-the-wall live rock act and after what I saw on stage I think I’ll go check out a few of their recordings. If you like AC/DC or The Saints you should check them out.

I returned to the outside bar, protesting over the poor arrangement. When the call for Motörhead came over the PA there was a mad rush of drunken bodies converging on the stairs and the waiting security. This time my keychain was a no-go, I was forced to check it at the cloak room. It meant I had to line up to check, then line up again to go through security once more.

Motörhead were in full swing when I got to my chair and I cursed security for making me miss these legends. They were playing a fair amount of back catalogue. Lemmy swigged beer from the cup holder in his mike stand, saluted the crowd and blazed into Sacrifice. Part way through, Lemmy and Phil left the stage all to Mikkey for a jaw dropping display of percussion in a drum solo lasting well over three minutes. Toward the end of Killed By Death Mikkey started a shower of drumsticks, ejecting them with his left hand and fishing a fresh one from the holster with his right. The man is a human drum machine.

“This next song comes a little early tonight,” announces Lemmy, “because we’ve had to cut our set short.” My mood rose sharply, I was hoping I hadn’t missed Ace Of Spades, one of the all time classics of reckless, full speed ahead, devil may care rock songs. We didn’t find out why the set was cut short, possibly to accommodate the three ring circus Mötley Crüe had in store.

The crowd surged as the lights went down, chanting “Mötley… Mötley… Mötley…” as fog machines juiced up the atmosphere around the oversized circus tent. Strange carnival music filled the hall as Mighty Mike, resident midget and master of ceremonies, took the stage, followed by a pair of burlesque clad women, drawing back the curtains.

The Crüe sprang into action, opening with an explosive rendition of Shout At The Devil complete with flames and fireballs. There was some kind of line noise in the guitars that persisted throughout the show, perhaps something wasn’t grounded right; It could take considerable time to trace with all that equipment.

Attempts by Vince Neil to raise a chorus chant during Red Hot pretty much failed for some reason. Was the Crüe losing touch with the audience? Tommy Lee got a crowd chant going between songs using monosyllabic noises and “Hell Yeah”. But in a classic copycat moment some of the crowd kept repeating what he was saying after the game had finished.

The Crüe were supposed to return from intermission on thundering choppers, but the bikes just couldn’t fit between the speaker stacks and the edge of the stage so had to be abandoned. I couldn’t help being reminded of Spinal Tap. Girls Girls Girls would just have to go on with only the dancing girls and the soft core porn on the twin screens.

It’s time to pull out Dr Feelgood and the girls come back wearing skimpy latex nurse outfits. They’re like a trio of My First BDSM dolls with a complete wardrobe. Even so, by the time Same Old Situation (S.O.S.) came around Neil and Sixx could hardly raise a clap from the crowd. Although there had been plenty of fists punching the air during the night there were certainly a lot of people sitting down, that much was obvious, a fact not missed by the band.

“Turn the lights up so I can see all the drunk muthafuckers…” Lee commands, ”...wait, wait a minute… lookit this, what’s this? You’re sitting down? Shit, fuck that! I can’t believe you’re sitting down, c’mon. You go to a Mötley Crüe concert and you’re sitting down? Fuck that, I mean, do we look like a Bon Jovi concert? Do we sound like a Bon Jovi concert, huh? I SAID, do we sound like a Bon Jovi concert?”

Lee starts roving around the stage with a handicam, looking for bare breasts, or breasts worthy of baring, egging the audience on while Neil provides drum rolls from Lee’s kit. Surprisingly, he manages to coax around a dozen pairs out. Remember, this is all going live on two huge screens beside the stage and who knows if the thing is recording or not.

Lee is beside himself. “Yeah! What did you think of that? Who’s your boy, eh? Who’s your boy?” Someone over my shoulder suggests Bon Jovi.

For the closing number the Crüe have saved one of the best, head kicking rock numbers of all times: Kick Start My Heart, inspired by the time Sixx overdosed and was revived with two adrenalin shots to the heart. The lighting was a masterpiece of synchronised lights and pyrotechnics, explosive fireworks timed to go off in time with drum beats.

The big-top curtains close, the show is over.

I’m not exactly certain what I had witnessed, a group of superstars falling out of step with the modern audience or perhaps a band that expects too much adoration, repeatedly prompting for adulation throughout the show. Either way, we left feeling like we had just seen a real life Spinal Tap gig, complete with malfunctions and lewd, crude womanising by a group of older men, some of whom are married and have children of their own.

But then again, it is the spectacle you go to see at a Mötley Crüe gig, isn’t it? And that was certainly worth the trip.