August 20, 2014

Praying To The Saints of Los Angeles

I'm going to get a little nostalgic for a moment. I'm good at that. I got to see Motley Crue this past Sunday on their final farewell tour. Though I had seen them once before on their Dr. Feelgood tour, this tour was special. When it's over, no more Crue. Of course, members will still do their own thing.

Growing up on the metal of the 80's and 90's, I always gravitated to the coined "Glam Metal." Mainly, because I was at a point in my life, that there was always a weekend party somewhere and there was booze and girls! And be it Whitesnake, Poison or Crue, you were always making out to one of their songs. Whether it was In The Still of The Night, Every Rose Has Its Thorns, Home Sweet Home or Without You, someone was getting lucky while others were standing around drinking and making asses of themselves.

There are memories we wish to forget and those that we will always carry with us. And it's those memories of the sounds of sex, drugs and rock n' roll that will stay with me forever. Be it getting turned down (which happened a lot), or the times that I was making out with a girl in a corner somewhere. There was always a Crue song to be heard via radio or CD. The "first time" came in the ways of Shout At The Devil! That's what you call irony.

So Sunday night, along with a really good friend and his wife, I stood there watching them perform the last show I would see of them. I sang along with all the songs, probably better than Vince did. Every song they played, with the exception of a few newer ones, brought me back to when I was younger. Every song had a special memory. A special or not so special someone.  At first, I was just enjoying the show. I was seeing true legends of the rock world yet once again.

It wasn't until their encore of Home Sweet Home, that it hit me. It was really over. The mini stage in the center of the crowd, the blue lights, the piano. I knew right then and there, that a part of my life was coming to an end. And all I have left are the memories of a kid looking up to a bunch of long haired freaks living a life of bright lights and debauchery. The memories of being sad and alone, listening to the Crue for a pick up. And memories of just plain old fashioned good times, And as I stood there, a tear did escape. And as Vince said goodnight, it rolled down my cheek, a smile escaped my lips and my stomach fluttered.

The saying goes, "If it's too loud, you're too old." It wasn't loud enough! But more importantly I think, comes the adage of, "You're only as old as you feel." I try to always feel young. Sometimes my mind says i'm still young but the body says otherwise. And Sunday night, I think it also added to the feeling that I wasn't that young kid anymore. I guess, as long as I keep going and keep thinking, I will always be young. And never too old to rock!

So, I just want to say thanks to Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick for 31 years of mother fuckin', ass kickn', ear splittin', lascivious music.

Come to think about it, out of all of the bands of that era, the Crue are truly the Saints of Los Angeles.


Just take this song, and you'll never feel left all alone.......





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