Punk is dead and theres no sign of a pulse. The world is begging for something vaguely new involving guitars. The stirrings of a movement can be seen in the skintight glam rock of Bon Jovi and the pouty posturing of Quiet Riot. Yes, its 1983 and the hair metal scene is starting to take flight. While pretensions of hedonism exist, theyre mild and made for daytime TV. Enter a backcombed mob of freaks called Motley Crue. Disgusted by how safe and sanitised this new form of rock n roll is becoming, theyre out to ensure that sex, drugs and overdoses are shunted to the top of the agenda once more. Combining the spirit of the Sex Pistols with the aesthetics of the New York Dolls, they were quickly considered much to their delight as symbolic of everything that was wrong with Americas lost generation. Music critics, meanwhile, shunned their music as crass and vacuous while continuing to champion Def Leppard. Go figure. Fast forward thirty five years of heroin addiction, nervous breakdowns, failed marriages and belting tunes and you have one of the most enduring rock n roll bands of all time. It helps that their best songs Kickstart My Heart, Shout At The Devil, Girls Girls Girls still sound as fresh and vital as they did three decades ago, but its mostly the bands singularly unstoppable character that demands they be remembered as legends.
