Motley Crue Drummer Tommy Lee was born on this day, October 3rd in 1962. You can read an hilarious interview I did with Tommy way back in 2002 at This Link. Happy Birthday, Tommy!
(All Photos by Geoffrey Dicker)
I have said it many times before – and I am saying it again right now – that I would rather listen to Motley Crue songs like “Dr. Feelgood” or “Shout at the Devil” one hundred million billion times than be forced to listen to the majority of today’s shitty, modern alternative trash rock for fifteen seconds. Because, here’s the thing, Motley Crue – undeniable walking punch lines that they are – are nevertheless a bonafide gang of dangerous, ex-drug addict rock stars from an old school of Rock with a Capital R that, really, does not exist anymore. And for this, I worship them openly.
Watching Motley Crue play live is like driving a Ferrari at 100 miles an hour or having endlessly orgasmic sex with the hottest partner imaginable (me: Gael Garcia Bernal). NONE of these emo/screamo “Mommy didn’t love me” bullshit bands get me off at all. None of them have the balls of a Rock God like Nikki Sixx, who is one of the most original, charismatic figures in rock music since John Lennon. None of these new “excuses for musicians” have any rock star cache. And man, I miss that more than you could even imagine.
Today’s pop music sounds like it came from a can, and 90% of these young bands are just a bunch of whiney brats with guitars who aspire to sound like The All American Rejects (worst band ever) because that’s what the little emo kids are downloading from iTunes. Geesus god, when did rock music get so fucking lame? You can keep Panic at the Disco and The Academy Is and I’ll just curl up with Girls Girls Girls and my copy of The Dirt and be just fine, thank you.
I had a fucking blast last night and so did my plus one, Geoffrey, who I brought along with me since he had never seen The Crue before. I figured he’d appreciate their deal, as he is the only gay guy I have ever met whose favorite band is The Doors. Geoffrey knows his shit when it comes to what rocks and what does not rock. I have very few issues with Motley Crue as people, their showmanship or their set list. They played all the hits you could want to hear as a 20-year fan and very few songs from their new CD, which I do not know. Their stage set was awesome. They had so many explosions and bright lights and shiny visual distractions that I’m still deaf and seeing trails. Mick Mars can play his ass off despite being practically turned into a living statue from ankylosing spondylitis (look it up) and both Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee have life-long “Get Out of Jail Free” cards as far as I’m concerned. But…I have an issue with Vince Neil. Please allow me to share.
Before their set even started (and remember that we had to sit through three opening acts, all of which – thank Christ – were at least pretty decent in the “ability to rock” department), Geoffrey and I were taking bets about whether or not Vince Neil would be fat. “I bet he’s fat,” said Geoffrey. “I bet he’s fat, too,” I admitted. So you can see there was no real betting going on there, since neither one of us had any faith in Neil’s ability to stay away from the pork rinds. But – surprise – Vince is not only slender-ish, but looking quite fit these days. He was full of energy as he danced and pranced about the stage in a manner that immediately brought to mind Billy Squire’s performance in the video for “Rock Me Tonight.”
But the gigantic bone I have to pick with Vince concerns his unwillingness/inability to sing any Motley Crue song all the way through from beginning to end without taking a hundred breaks in between. Basically, he sings about every third or forth word and leaves it up to the audience to fill in the gaps. WTF? He has been doing this for about ten years and it makes me want to smash him in the face. Vince, dude, get a little bit friendly with reality here: nobody in Madison Square Garden last night paid $90 for their ticket so they could hear the drunk guy next to them sing the chorus to “Kick start my heart.” I mean, that’s the pay off! If you just sing every other word to the verses and then hand off the mike to the audience to sing the chorus – like a lame, douche bag jagoff – that’s completely unacceptable! I refuse to pretend that we should not call shenanigans on you for this heinous, repeated transgression! I would rather have Vince LIP SYNC the fucking songs then just not sing. Nikki Sixx must agonize over a desire to kick your not-that-fat ass out of the band for how you butcher his music. Fuck you, Vince Neil for not singing the songs!
Thank you for reading, and please continue to rock.
Whitesnake’s Vocalist Does his Best Molly Shannon Impersonation on Here I Go Again With David Coverdale
I don’t know how may of you enjoyed the almost embarrassingly guilty pleasure of watching the past two seasons of VH1’s Rock of Love with Brett Michaels as much as I did. But if you’re already jonesing for Season 3, it’s kind of a bummer to know that, as of this juncture at least, Brett and his chosen “Rock of Love,” Ambre, appear to still be together. So, while the producers handle their negotiations with the next victim lucky bachelor (Tommy Lee, anyone?) Television Without Pity Dot Com has worked out this beyond hilarious list of Possible Replacements for Brett Michael’son VH1’s next installment of Rock Of Love. Wait ‘til you see what Andrew Ridgely looks like now…
Please do rush right over to this awesome, deliciously scathing editorial in the Village Voice that wraps up last night’s uber lame finale of Rock Star: Supernova — the worst show on television since the first season of Big Brother. My favorite parts are where author Tom Breihan refers to winner Lukas Rossi (the guy I pegged as the suckiest of the bunch right from the start!) as “an angry Canadian goth dwarf with creative facial hair” and later offers that, “Rossi is like what would happen if Orgy’s cover of “Blue Monday” somehow took human form.” Sweet!
In other fun news, CBS’ Supernova (Tommy Lee, Jason Newsted and Gilby Clarke) just lost the Lawsuit brought against them by an Orange County, CA punk rock band called Supernova and thus will have to change their name to…whatever. As Briehan says in the conclusion of his piece, “Maybe they can have another Reality Show to pick their new name”!
We Will Not Rock You
Despite its very happening website , Rock Star SuperNova is easily the worst show on TV. I’m serious; there is nothing worse on television that you could possibly find to watch. It makes American Idol look like The Sopranos by comparison. Suck City.
Even Hell’s Kitchen – with all of its screaming, backstabbing and chain smoking – has a higher entertainment factor.
It’s been traumatic enough for me to handle the fact that CBS couldn’t even get their shit together to air a season of either The Amazing Race or Survivor this summer. That’s just plain lazy. But I realized that summer 2005’s TV programming had hit really hit bottom and stared to dig when I found myself tuning in to the premiere of NBC’s Tommy Lee Goes To College this past Tuesday. I expected to witness a total train wreck, but instead I was oddly compelled to watch back-to-back introductory episodes of Motley Crue drummer Tommy Lee’s highly contrived bout with higher education. Honestly, this show reminded me a lot of this reoccurring dream I have, where I’m back in school and it’s one week before final exams. One day I wake up and remember that there’s this math class I’ve somehow forgotten to attend all semester…
So not only am I trying to figure what the fuck I’ve been doing all semester that’s kept me from going to this one class, but I’m in a total panic over how I can possibly make up an entire semester’s worth of homework assignments, take the final and possibly swing an incomplete in the course. Jesus god, what a nightmare.
But Tommy Lee Goes to College, which depicts affable rock n’er do well Lee as a sort of ‘Curious George’ of The University of Nebraska, kept me entertained with just the sheer hilarity of putting a high school drop out in an organic chemistry course that would put me in a coma and expecting him to stay awake. It didn’t hurt that Lee also looked really hot in nearly every scene where he wasn’t wearing some kind of stupid hat. I think I’ll be tuning for the entire 6 week (or however long it runs) season. I mean, hot rock stars are in short supply on TV these days. And Survivor doesn’t start for two more weeks.
The craziest thing about the show, however, is the fact that it induced me to have sex dreams of Tommy Lee all night long. Needless to say, I did not awake in the morning feeling well-rested. Thoughts of jumping Tommy Lee’s hotness continued to distract me at work all the next day and then suddenly I remembered: I have Tommy Lee’s email address. I decided to write him an email:
“Hey Tommy,” I wrote. “I watched your TV show last night (you looked hot) and then I had sex dreams about you all night. HOT!
Ok, rock on.”
Several minutes later I received the following reply from Tommy:
“Hahaha!! Nice!…gotta love those sex dreams!! I’m so pumped dude!!…the NBC show was their highest ratings this summer!!!…Can I get a “FUCK YEAH.”
I love that Tommy called me “Dude.” Anyway, that’s something fun that happened this past week.