Sooner or later, everything comes back into fashion. Having said that, after witnessing Mötley Crüe’s ‘Final Tour’ stop at Vancouver’s Rogers Arena Friday, the day the LA band’s brand of 80s nostalgia returns to prominence will be a colossal backwards step for rock and roll.
Credit where it’s due. Mötley Crüe still put on a show. Last night they performed two hours’ worth of high-energy, low-IQ rock complete with explosions, pyrotechnics and enough spectacle to raise questions why they never invested this level of creativity in their actual music.
IN PICTURES: Crüe and Cooper bring big-budget rock to Vancouver
Nikki Sixx still cuts an imposing figure under a still-spectacular plume of hair, pulling out every move in the big book of rock poses, shooting flames from his bass through “Shout At The Devil.” Guitarist Mick Mars, the noticeably oldest member of the Crüe, shredded superbly and retained a permanent air of mystery under a heavy-brimmed hat and coat. Time has been cruel to both the voice and androgynous good looks of singer Vince Neil, whose arrival in a floor-length flared leather coat must be a contender for the most dated stage entrance in hard rock history.
For a band with countless millions of record sales, the profits of which have presumably been spent on booze and drugs, Mötley Crüe aren’t exactly blessed with a plethora of great songs to fill their farewell tour. With the notable exception of set closers “Girls, Girls, Girls” and the still-excellent “Kick Start My Heart,” the highlights of last night’s lengthy Crüe set came from outside their back catalogue, in the form a lengthy and fascinating monologue from Sixx about the genesis of the band, and Tommy Lee’s extended drum solo, mostly played while suspended upside down 30 metres above the crowd.
Alice Cooper, theoretically the support act last night, has been through the ups and downs of musical fashion enough times to have long since released affectations of coolness. Where Mötley Crüe tried hard to convince that the action was still in their pants, the Grand Old Man of Shock Rock delivered a performance focusing on wedging its tongue in its cheek.
Along with his crack band of musicians (special mention must be made of lead guitarist Nita Strauss), Cooper’s shortened set moved swiftly between theatrical sets pieces like the albino python, the giant Frankenstein’s monster and the guillotine, followed by the singer’s head being punted around the stage. Although scripted to the point where spontaneity evaporated completely, the mix of orchestrated lunacy and quality songs showed why Cooper has remained an iconic figure for over 40 years. “Poison” was pure sing-along fun, “The Ballad of Dwight Fry” carried an aura of theatrical menace, and “School’s Out,” blended with Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall” for increased audience participation, left no dispute why it’s still the gem in the Cooper canon.
The difference between the two sets was a sense of humour. Cooper seemed happy to play the role of comedy-horror clown. Mötley Crüe, for all the fire and flamboyance, failed to see the funny side. As entertaining as it was for a Rogers Arena crowd to take a two-hour trip back to the 1980s, there’s something creepy about acting like you live there full time.
