Thick As A Brick

By the time I finally made it to LA, the Sunset Strip was no longer the hive of scum and villainy it had been in the 1980s, at the height of glam metal’s popularity. The Whisky was still standing. Ditto the Rainbow Bar & Grill. But Axl and Tracii Guns were no longer hanging out at either place. 

The Strip today is still quite dodgy, to be sure. Especially once the sun goes down. But it’s a far cry from how books like American Hair Metal (by Steven Blush) and Mötley Crüe’s The Dirt describe it.

These days, few people pay the Strip much attention but Rock of Ages could change all that.

On 15 June, Rock of Ages -- a movie based on a musical which was well received by pansy-assed yuppies but which no glam metal fan worth his salt would have touched with his friend’s barge pole on a starless night -- will open in cinemas across the States. And no doubt, American audiences will lap it up because a) American audiences love nostalgia and b) they love Glee-type nostalgia. It also probably means that after 15 June, the dope fiends on the Strip will probably be moved on and out and driven off to some place else.

I’ve written about this before so I’m not going to go on and on about glam metal. But I will say this: the genre may not have aged well but back in the day, it was a mean monster that puked on good judgement and banged groupies to the sound of your band recording Rocket Queen. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t family friendly. And there’s no way in a million hells that Tom Cruise would have been allowed to rock a microphone in leather pants. None whatsoever. And it didn’t matter that he was Maverick and flew a Tomcat.

Incidentally, The Dirt: Confessions of the World’s Most Notorious Rock Band is the funniest, sickest, most entertaining, most distressing and hands down, best glam metal tell-all you’re likely to ever read. It’s got absolutely no right to be as brilliant, literally speaking, as The Great Gatsby but my lord, is it. And that is really something someone should make a film about.