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By suzy sabla Photos by Sprout /

Before heading to the Motley Crue concert last Sunday night, I thought it would be funny to have a Jagerbomb to start the festivities.  My boyfriend had never had the drink of champions, and I recalled Tommy Lee some years back at a Rockstar Supernova concert sporting a big bottle of Germany’s finest. Stumbling into my local, the fourteen bucks for our drinks was worth the novelty. Sure enough, a couple of hours later, Mr. Ex. Anderson would be swiggin’ from the big green bottle and passing it to a crowd of people sporting everything from vintage Crue tees and awfully tacky merch jerseys selling  at a hefty hundred bucks! Other than the Crue enthusiast in front row showing off her pierced and chained cleavage in the moments leading up to the show, I couldn’t help but be excited for the floating mass of  bleach blonde hair, a 40-something year old dude wearing a jean jacket in the middle of the crowd, a true connoisseur of Crew no doubt.

  The show kicked off with an exhibition of 29 years of fine musicianship, womanizing, and the aforementioned, Jagermeister. At a distance, one could be fooled; Nikki Six (bass), Mick Mars (guitar), Vince Neil (vocals), and Tommy Lee (drums) seem not to have wandered far from their youth.  Adorned in black and denim, and with long locks of flowing hair, the L.A. metal heads wreak of Sunset strip energy and machismo. Throughout the night, however, the age would start to kick in.

  Surprisingly, it was some of the new material that got my attention, for better of for worse. Title track from their latest album, "Saints of Los Angeles," popped ear drums, as did the paralleled pyrotechnics. While it takes a pretty blatant trip down memory lane with guitar shreds a plenty and rock star hedonism that seems dated, the song ignited a nostalgic smile among many. Another new song, "Girls Girls Girls," however, was a bit too much machismo for anyone’s own good.  

  I was brought to hysterics by Vince Neil, who throughout the night disappeared from stage for anywhere between 30 seconds to three minutes. I hate to be presumptuous but I couldn’t help by think he was heading back there to get a little white powdery energy kick – it is in fact a part of Crue’s reputation isn’t it? Re-appearing from backstage with a shit-eating grin his face and a helium-like voice Neil ran up and down the stage like he was doing the circuit at Curves. Periodically, his inner schizo switched to an abnormally deep, "How's everybody doing?!" The crowd roared, almost as well as him, it would seem. While Neil's animated persona is comical, you gotta hand it to the guy; he could break glass with his high-pitched scream.  

 There were other highlights from the night, besides keeping count of Neil's presumed backstage encounters with narcotics. Mick Mars soloed for minutes on end, with his Slash-like hat, and mega glam platforms. Rocking back and fourth like some sick and emancipated Tim Burton character, his echoing guitar bled into a Jimmy Hendrix riff as he was joined by top-chops Tommy. The two, stole the show for a few short moments as the rambunctious crowd came to complete awe and silence. Re-vitalized again by the much anticipated and prized Crue hit from back in '89, "Dr. Feelgood," was a great way to end the night.  

Unfortunately, low lights reigned last Sunday. The entire night simply grew tired, and far too obvious. As my sweetheart put it, "For the first three songs, I thought this show was going to change my life. Then songs four through fifteen happened." Crue could take something from the "short but sweet" sentiment and hack down their repertoire to keep the crowd wanting more.  

Perhaps I'm being too critical, but how is it that the most memorable part of the evening was the drunken girl in front row dancing topless, after all the rest?

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