There are dancing songs. There are sleeping songs. There are running songs. There are fucking songs. And hot damn, there are driving songs…songs to cruise to…songs to speed to…songs to rev engines and roar down the freeway to. The beat is real. The drive is calling. When I was a teenager, I got my first speeding ticket at 16, and we were allowed to have it expunged from my driving record for insurance purposes so long as I went before a jury of my peers in a teen court to dole out some punishment. The first question asked of me was if I was listening to something that could have caused me to speed. Or course I was. I always was. We always were…and continue to do so. As far as my lead foot influences go, jet-propelled, electro-synth ragers or straight up, up-tempo rock n’ roll usually adds the weight to the pedal, my grip on the wheel tightening, rubber marks on pavement and exhaust fumes. Or there’s Mötley Crüe. If I’m ever fleeing the cops in a high-speed chase, someone please, please, please put on “Kickstart My Heart,” some adrenaline-fueled sonic revelry from an album full of it, 1989’s Dr. Feelgood.
Slam on the gas.
Way back in the late 80’s when hair metal was king, playing on a million radios and television sets, Mötley Crüe was one of the bands that felt a little separate from the rest of spandex, makeup, and hairspray rattled masses (the other being Guns N’ Roses). The Crüe felt different, like something more classic, like something that could survive a cultural shift (which they kind of did). You could poke fun at all the Poisons and Wingers and Warrants* of the world if you wanted to, but for some reason Mötley Crüe seemed immune to that kind of dissent or mockery. Maybe it’s because their albums rocked. Maybe it’s because they were the perfect mix of sex, sleaze, and drug abuse. Maybe it’s because each band member, be it Vince or Tommy or Nikki or Mick, felt like individual components of a larger organism, rather than a parade of nameless, faceless, spandex-wearing troubadours.
Maybe it’s because they make me want to drive fast.
Regardless of how cheesy it may be. “Oh! Yeah! Baby!”
In my head, the Crüe earned their place on that elevated list of those bands from the hair metal era that stand apart from the rest (indeed, just like GnR), because of Shout at the Devil. I've definitely come around on re-embracing some of that era's music, but most of those bands still feel unimportant and awful.
Also, god help us both, but I loved warrant's second record.Doesn't hold up at all, but my first concert was Warrant, Trixter (who I hated even then), and Firehouse. It was free and within walking distance of a friend's house.
In my head, the Crüe earned their place on that elevated list of those bands from the hair metal era that stand apart from the rest (indeed, just like GnR), because of Shout at the Devil. I've definitely come around on re-embracing some of that era's music, but most of those bands still feel unimportant and awful.
ReplyDeleteAlso, god help us both, but I loved warrant's second record.Doesn't hold up at all, but my first concert was Warrant, Trixter (who I hated even then), and Firehouse. It was free and within walking distance of a friend's house.
Your first concert was Warrant, Trixter, and Firehouse? Whoa! That is equal parts hilarious, but also awesome considering the time frame.
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