Almost one year ago, at the same venue, I saw Motörhead for the first time and was blown away. I missed a chance to meet frontman/bassist Lemmy, who escaped through the back exit, and instead had to settle with meeting drummer Mikkey Dee, who was polite enough but seemed otherwise uninterested in chatting with fans. This time was way different! Mikkey Dee, who opted to appear on the Swedish version of our American show "I'm a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here!" instead, was replaced by Velvet Revolver skinsman Matt Sorum and I got to mee the legendary Lemmy Kilmister of Motörhead, who, after forming the band for almost 35 years, was standing before me. A gentleman in every respect and surprisingly quite upbeat and funny. My vision of him was the proverbial old warhorse, jaded and wiry of the road and all the whores, groupies, users, abusers and hanger-ons who latch themselves onto bands with no purpose but to bleed them dry. So it was a pleasant surprise to me that despite having a pathetic entourage following behind him, he seemed to gravitate more towards me than the silicone-injected females near him. It's one of those great thrills that you feel when you come near a legend or a hero from your childhood and he is still just a normal guy at heart and plays for the simple joy of seeing his fans happy. As he took my hand into his and we walked down the sidewalk for five seconds - yes, this really did happen! - he assured me that the fun wouldn't stop any time soon and that the best was yet to come. Oh, and yes, the facial warts are indeed real!
NASHVILLE PUSSY - Not to be confused with "Alabama Thunderpussy," these southern rockers boast a pretty down and dirty, but some good, clean fun that begins with Cheech Marin's "Pussy, Pussy" monologue in the 1995 film, "From Dusk 'til Dawn." From the word "go," the show shoots off like a wild rodeo ride, never letting up for inch until the songs ends. The band boasts two females, one is a big chested guitarist and the other the bassist, who rock just as hard as the men. No feminist bullshit on their part, and the men don't seem to impose any sexist views, except for the name of the band, although I'm sure you could hear them if you listen to the lyrics, which, unfortunately, I couldn't. Set Grade: B
THE REVEREND HORTON HEAT - And now for something completely different and totally unexpected, a psychobilly act at a predominently metalhead show. They get the top prize for being the most unlikely band on the bill, yet still manage to get some cordial applause from the crowd of mosh-hungry people who want to see Motörhead. Still, there are certainly fans of RHH in the crowd, many of whom are old, tall men who grew up in Dallas, Texas as the frontman onstage and eventually migrated to New York. The band boasts a 50s throwback style complete with a giant bass viola and a Les Paul stratocaster (I could be wrong, though) with some old-style etchings. They play music that reminds me of something I heard in "Pulp Fiction" or some David Lynch movie that uses psychobilly-esque/50s rockabilly/surf punk music. At times, the interludes get slow, but not without some clever moments that tends to toy with the crowds reaction. Still, the good Rev (who looks like a post-rehab James Hetfield) and company do an admirable job in keeping the Southern Comfort vibe going. Set Grade: B
MOTÖRHEAD - And off we go, exactly where we left off nearly a year ago, with a packed crowd of people waiting to see the Road Crew bring down the Roseland in true road-dog style. This time, however, things got a little bit louder, as I had read on some concert-goer's T-shirt that evening which read: "Motörhead... Everything Louder Than Anything Out There!" or something to that effect. It wasn't enough that I could hear the songs being played, but the band were in danger of killing every eardrum that wasn't protected or covered. Lemmy, like a great crumbling statue, remained in his position belting out the usual classics like.... oh, you know the ones.... do I really have to name them? The crowd seemed satisfied to throw themselves literally on top of each other and into the waiting arms of security more for themselves than for Lemmy. I mean, seriously, can anyone name one Motörhead song that they can mosh to? Matt Sorum covers Mikkey Dee's fat ass well on the drums and even goes so far as to mimic Dee's "tossing-of-the-sticks-everywhere" routine. And Phil just wears a damn cool-looking fedora hat. The night did belong to them naturally, but without really being able to hear the songs and singing along, it really made me lose focus. Maybe next year, in September at the Roseland again, will be a different story. Set Grade: B+
Overall Show Grade: B
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment