Mötley Crüe - RedWhite & Crüe

Tue 8th Feb, 2005 in Music Reviews

Drugs. Groupies. Spandex. Harmonics. Revolving drumkits. Groupies. Booze. High heels. Dr. Feelgood.

Oho yes. It’s time for Mötley Crüe. They’re a band for whom the word ‘excess’ has no real-life definition. That is, they’re a group of musicians (or degenerates, if you believe the sort of press they’ve received – or given themselves) who haven’t actually had an honest-to-God hit since the ‘90s, but who – by dint of varying porn-crossed-lovers stories and assorted tabloid tailings – have managed to stay at the front of the public’s mind, while other bands from their era have faded away. They’ve been around – in various incarnations – for over 20 years and have managed to sell over 40million records. And so it is that this collection – going under the name Red, White & Crüe, and ostensibly released as a support for the band’s reunion tour – has come to be. It’s a collection of new tunes, rarities (remixes and the like) and, of course, some of the finest sex-drugs-rock tunes ever committed to tape. This is music to drive a convertible to, or to crash it to – as a previously released compilation suggested. (Presumably you’ll be wearing some kind of tight-fitting leather and be rockin’ out with the hottest chick in Cali at the time.)

It’s not the first retrospective that’s been put out by the Crüe, but it’s definitely the most cohesive, and features less filler than some others – though there is an argument that this’d make a damn fine single-disc selection, if pressed for space. And if you don’t know anything about the world that Nikki Sixx, Mick Mars, Vince Neil and Tommy Lee created, then it’s the perfect way to get acquainted, possibly only bettered by an afternoon spent with its tunes forming the background to a close reading of their wonderfully nasty we-can’t-quite-remember-but-we-think-it-happened-like-this autobiography, The Dirt.

(Oh, all right. And John Corabi, too. But he’s only on a few songs here, none of them particularly great, despite his vocal prowess.)

Given that this is a career-spanning collection, it’s understandable that the production of the tunes is going to vary quite a bit. The later stuff – and the new songs especially – are a lot deeper. Curiously, though, they’re often the ones that’re the most switch-offable; there’s something that’s undeniably hungry about the earlier tunes. There’s a dogged persistence about the music, which – if it’s rooted in the souls of the guys who made it – might be why we’re seeing them mount stadium stages worldwide again, as opposed to Poison or Warrant.

The first disc of this collection is where the big guns live. It’s no coincidence, either, that huge slabs of the band’s best albums including their debut Too Fast For Love. Opening with the machine-gun riffing of Live Wire - dig those harmonics! – it’s pretty easy to see why this band were big. The determined-to-rock slant of the band’s first album is infectious, and there’s really the sense of something that’s eminently, joyously throwaway. As encapsulated in the lyrics of Toast Of The Town, the band’s fun-aplenty attitude was based on the idea that

With retrospect, they were wrong about that bit. But the tunes are strong enough to speak for themselves. The squealing shout-outs of Too Fast For Love, the Bach-like creep of Black Widow, the stripclub anthem of Girls, Girls, Girls and the ebullient fun of the band’s cover of Brownsville Station’s Smokin’ In The Boys Room still have that same broad-grin joy attached, while Shout At The Devil, of course, remains one of the greatest sleaze-and-Satan tunes that’s seen the light of day… or eldritch, leather-clad night, if you prefer. The disc ends with what’s possibly the band’s best-known hit, the fabulously Aerosmithlike Dr. Feelgood, which still manages to sound as big-arsed and nasty as when it was released. It’s one of those tunes that’ll see you – no matter where you are – prancing about like you’re rocking a stadium full of teens… and they’re loving it. (Of course, the tune scores additional points for the appearance of a snarled “Guitar!” to preface a solo. Rock!)

It’s telling that the collection splits at this point, as it marked the point at which the band did, too – at least, as far as Vince Neil was concerned. Not returning until 1997’s poorly-received Generation Swine, the ‘90s were dark years for the Crüe. Musically, there were false-starts and grasps towards the lifelines that other musical styles might offer – remember, in the time since Dr. Feelgood was released, grunge had swept away ornate-staging bands with just a whiff of attitude and gritty flanno. It was the lowest ebb of the band, and as such is the one where the hits and memorable music are a little more difficult to come by. This being the case, the second disc of the collection can’t really compete with the strength of the first. Given that these are both pretty lengthy CDs, the attention span of all but the most devoted fans will probably flag before getting too far into the tracklisting. Things aren’t helped, really, by the band’s cover of the Sex Pistols classic Anarchy In The U.K. – it isn’t exactly an auspicious opener for the second helping of eyeliner-tinged rock. Additionally, this disc is larded with remixes and edits, rather than legitimate, album versions of tunes, which seems to obscure the songs a little on occasion. Surely the inclusion of the originals couldn’t have hurt?

Still, at least this disc’s got the shuffle-tastic Generation Swine on it, which sounds a little like The Beatles doing speed and copping Queens Of The Stone Age riffs. New Tattoo’s Hell On High Heels and New Tattoo also are pretty good tunes – standouts in some of the murky music that features – which mark more of a return to the band’s trademark hypersleaziness. It’s certainly here that a twinkle of the gold that brought the band fame in the early days begins to reappear – there’s no hiring-the-keyboardist-from-Nine Inch Nails tricksy-fartery here; it’s just solid riffing with a bit of a flicked flourish that typifies the quartet.

Of course, the part of this collection that’ll appeal to the longstanding fan of the band is the three new tracks that’ve been recorded. Street Fighting Man, of course, is a cover of the Rolling Stones tune. It’s not, naturally, a subtle revision of the tune; it’s a bit like the song had been given a nu-metal makeover, with some sort of cyber-wah backing. There’s more snarl than Jagger’s version, but it seems almost caricatured – somehow less authentic in its intention. Given that this is a good-time band, though, it’s not that much of a problem; the same sort of reinvention was worked on The Beatles’ Helter Skelter (found on the first disc, replete with double-handed tapping solo not found in the original, natch) with reasonable big-drummed success.

If I Die Tomorrow is an anthemic rocker that seems informed by recent rock developments, and carries a pretty weighty sense of metal grandeur. Rather than getting too bogged down in chorused-guitar arpeggios or insane solos, it’s a song that’s pretty simple and wears its heart on its sleeve.

I guess this is the sound of a band taking another shot at it – even if parts do remind the listener of U2 rather than Crüe. Still, it’s good to hear that while the cornerstones of the band’s sound are intact, there’s more than lip-service being paid to the concept of development – something that Sixx’s Brides Of Destruction project is responsible for?

Sick Love Song sounds pretty much as the title would lead you to expect. Woozy, raga-style playing introduces the tune which then turns into an older-styled thrasher, full of the groove that’s the band’s trademark. Lyrics that chop in and out, echoed vocals, and a wah-fuelled solo turn – it’s enjoyable without being particularly memorable. Shout At The Devil II it ain’t, but until a complete album of new material surfaces, it’ll do. In other words, the new songs are OK, but only just.

Still, it’s probably not fair to give the band shit over their new songs. Tunes thrown into compiles generally come off second-best because they’re being compared to their creators’ best works. It’s why they’re typically found towards the back of compilations. What’s played here is nothing incredibly new: it’s Mötley Crüe with a bigger bottom-end than before. But it’s by no means bad; the nu-metal tip isn’t overly embraced, and they play with a rhythmic tightness that’s indicative of their years together. They’re making an effort, and that’s cool. But it’s a gesture that’ll probably be lost on those people that’re not huge fans of the band. They’re not reinventing the wheel, but again, that’s probably OK: they’re the sort of band that you either dig, or hate with a passion. (And that’s exactly how they like it, I suspect.)

So there we have it; Mötley Crüe’s history, neatly packed onto two discs. Chances are, you’ll only ever have the first disc on rotation, but that’s fine: any collection that begins with Live Wire, ends with Dr. Feelgood and has Girls, Girls, Girls stuck somewhere in the middle is essential, firstly because it shows a band learning on the fly – probably a difficult process when you’re one of the world’s biggest – but moreso for those moments when when you want to transform your place into a strip club. The second disc is less addictive, largely because it’s a much more hit-and-miss affair. But this isn’t an airbrushed collection. There’s definitely some stinkers in there (though thankfully they avoided the inclusion of Brandon) but it’s an accurate, warts-and-all portrait of the rise and fall (and implied resurrection) of one of the US’s greatest party soundtrack bands. Break out the eyeliner and celebrate.

The band hope to include Australia in their upcoming world tour but they need YOUR help to make it happen! FasterLouder.com.au has teamed up with Mötley Crüe to organise a petition to convince the boys that YOU want them to tour Down Under… stand up and be counted people! Sign the petition here now!