As far as rock n roll lineups go, you would be hard pressed to find one to rival the triple bill of Thin Lizzy, Mötley Crüe, and the elder statesmen of glam rock, KISS.
Unfortunately after-work traffic, combined with crippling road works, dash any opportunity to see if the boys are indeed back in town. But after running from pillar to post to find the ticket box and weaving through streams of fans in full KISS attire – makeup, platforms and all – a crack of fireworks and blinding lights herald the arrival of the notorious Mötley Crüe.
There are a whole lot of theatrics but the bombastic use of accessories only highlights the fact that they haven’t moved with the times. “Wild Side” is great but when Vince Neil (who is looking more and more like Poison’s Bret Michaels these days) declares “we have made rock n roll songs for the last 32 fuckin years!” a voice high up in the stands pipes back, “not for the last 12!”
He goes on to introduce a new song titled “Sex”, which is Mötley Crüe 101 but without any of their 80s/early 90s panache.
If you didn’t catch the name of the song, it is flashing in 20 foot high letters on the screen and emblazoned on the back of Neil’s jacket. Nikki Sixx awkwardly tries to sing back up in a hovering microphone and poor Mick Mars looks so stiff that it looks like they are going to wheel him off stage with a hand trolley.
Tommy Lee does his drum-kit-go-round shtick, albeit to a Skrillex song, not that he does too much drumming and mostly just hits the cymbals.
The second half of the show picks up with “Dr Feelgood” and “Girls, Girls, Girls” reminding us why the band have such a following to begin with. Unfortunately despite the roaring guitar intro by Mars, Neil can’t seem to keep up with closer “Kickstart My Heart”.
Missing words and only half singing, he lets the rest of the team down.
Re-entering the stadium, the air crackles with excitement for tonight’s headliners.
Huge KISS Army banners are unfurled either side of the stage and the marketing machine spruiks a new DVD on the big screen.
Suddenly the advertising is replaced by footage of Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer walking to the stage. “Alllriiiggghhht Melbourne, you wanted the best, you got the best,” booms across the stadium as the curtain shielding the stage dramatically drops.
All four band members descend from the ceiling and immediately proceed to tear the audience a new one with “Detroit Rock City”
Simmons and Stanley still look, and more importantly sound as good as they did back in the 70s and “Shout It Out Loud” has the crowd doing just that.
KISS icy-pole sales are clearly going well judging by the blinding scale of fireworks, lights, and slick production quality.
Regrettably, all of the pumping testosterone in the room coupled with the diehard fandom ends with a punch-up in the stands during “Dr Love”, a couple of jugheads tussle precariously close to the balcony as another fan yells “put your shirt on you fat wanker.”
Simmons is at his evil best, spewing blood and flying to the top of the stage, breathing fire at the conclusion of “Firehouse”, though his delivery of the creepy “Christine Sixteen” is made even creepier when you consider his 63 years of age.
When it seems the show cannot get any bigger, Stanley zip lines over the crowd and lands behind the mixing desk during “Love Gun” before “Rock N Roll All Night” explodes in a hail of confetti.
Serving up “God Gave Rock N Roll To You” as an encore, not a single audience member is left wanting for anything. When it comes to stadium rock gods, KISS are it.
Their energy, commitment to entertainment and years of face melting experience do come it to play but more simply, they do not take themselves too seriously.
This self-effacing attitude is what keeps their electrifying shows at the top of the tree where other imitators find theirs dying on the branch.
