The contracts are signed stating that this really is the final tour in the thirty five year career of the notorious Motley Crue. I don’t know about you lot, but I don’t believe it for a second. I’d wager a few coins that they’ll be back as Cotley Mrue or something similar in the very near future.
I arrived at the luxurious and always impressive Bell Center shortly before the start of Alice Cooper’s set – I try not to miss opening acts but sometimes that just isn’t possible. It’s a strange crowd; your average rowdy tee shirt and jeans brigade and a lot of older folk that look as if they’ve made their way to the show directly from their office jobs. Let’s face it, we’re an aging mob.
As I make my way along the corridors, taking the time to nod at the Habs hall of famers like the late Jean Beliveau, a loud roar breaks that certainly announces the presence of the king of shock rock, the legend himself – Alice Cooper!
By the time I reach my seat in section 223, Cooper is already beginning hit song “I’m 18” to the raucous approval of the ten thousand plus in attendance. He is as I remember, and that is as a true showman. Nobody, NOBODY, puts on a show like he does and once it’s time for him to be rounding the globe on his final hurrah, the music world will be bidding farewell to master of concert theatrics. That said, there really isn’t a lot new for witnesses of prior gigs, but even though the audience knew what was coming, they were into it every step of the journey.
His stage is a two-tier affair with an elongated drum raiser at the back of the stage, which has ramps on either side to give the guitarists a platform to shred on. Below that are the amps and throughout the show, this area is also used to hide behind for costume changes – and those are plentiful. Alice’s eyes are used as a backdrop for the set and a strange skeletal structure rises out from behind the drum set and twists its way out across the floor and towards the sound board. Everybody is thinking Tommy Lee; the elders amongst us wonder if the infamous drum cage is making a final appearance, but for now the focus is all on Cooper.
His snake even made an appearance, which was one of the few changes I noticed since I last saw the man, and I wondered to myself how hard it would be to get that reptile across boarders and avoid quarantine on a regular basis.
The man escaped a straight jacket only to be beheaded under a guillotine, returned to life, was electrocuted and turned into Frankenstein, burst a few over-sized balloons with a sword and handed out more beaded necklaces than a Mardi Gras parade, underwent as many wardrobes changes as possible and all while belting old legendary songs with perfect pitch and precision.
During what is perhaps his most recognized song, came a little medley of sorts. Beginning as “School’s Out” but leading into the chorus from Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick In Wall” played over “School’s Out” which then fully transitioned into “Another Brick In The Wall”. Say that ten times fast.
At the end of his set, Alice Cooper screamed “Montreal Rocks” to the boisterous applause of the crowd. Coincidence? I think not!
Yellow lights begin to pulsate on the stage and the roaring scream of revving motorbikes rips through the air. Suddenly there’s smoke everywhere and out step Motley Crue to rock Montreal one last time. Festivities begin with “Girls, Girls, Girls” and the audience in front of me, who had remained seated up until this point, are now on their feet, forcing me to follow suit. Midway through the song, there is an almighty bang as the pyrotechnics kick into gear. The blast was large enough that I was caught off guard and physically moved. Loud enough to make it seem like they hadn’t plugged in their amplifiers even. I checked to see if I had soiled myself before bracing my body for what was sure to follow. And follow the pyrotechnics did!
Of course, the band has a pair of attractive ladies in little clothing dancing and singing back-up vocals – they do have an appearance to keep up afterall. A large crane hook is inconspicuously lowered from that skeletal rollercoaster looking structure I mentioned before as it became more and more apparent that Tommy Lee did in fact have something in store for us all.
It’s early into their set and they already sound ten times better than the last I saw them in Montebello. You would expect a band of this magnitude to pull out all the stops and go out with a bang and that is exactly what they did. In fact, I have never seen so much pyro used during a single set in my life – and I have seen a lot of bands! Each blast resounds deeply within my chest. It’s an astonishing thing to see; or feel. I wasn’t around to see the beginning of the group but I imagine the early years might have been a lot like this. Nikki Sixx certainly remembers; swaggering up to the forefront of the stage, I expected a solo, but once the spotlight shone upon him, he said “I want to take this all in for a second and let it soak in. The first time we were here we were opening for Ozzy Osborne. Montreal has a special place in our hearts and we had to come back to say goodbye.”
This led into a ripping rendition of the Sex Pistols’ “Anarchy In The UK” which led into “Shout At The Devil”, tons more pyrotechnics as well a guitar flamethrower. Read that again; guitar… flamethrower! There are now fires burning on stage and I’m thinking of Whitesnake a few years back but none of the crew seem to be worried. Alright. That crane hook is now also burning away and the arena is filling up with smoke. Nobody is shitting it so I’m either going down with the ship or over reacting. OK then.
The lights dim and the stages clears – something is about to happen. The twin bass drums on Lee’s kit are lit on from the inside and drumming begins, only this isn’t what you would expect from a hard rock or metal show; we’re getting a heavy dose of EDM and Dubstep with rock riffs played over it. Then it happens, the platform under the drums and drummer begin to slowly lift, guided by the rollercoaster frame up and out over the crowd, spinning in a circle. Lee yells “I’ve been dreaming of this my whole life” and he stretches out his arms to the crowd below who are currently eye to eye with the man. Its a near five minute affair as he slowly spins his way to the end of the structure and back, all the time drumming away. Its quite an impressive spectacle. I had an older room mate years ago that would tell tales about Crue shows during the 1980s and at that moment, I felt I could finally fully understand what he meant all those years ago.
There were more stunts to be seen though, as Sixx and Vince Neil were scooped out by two metal crane arms and swung out over the crowd in what felt like something Kiss would do. Because that is something Kiss does. They play their biggest hit during this, Dr. Feelgood, and the walls tremble from the sound of the crowd alone, not withstanding the band and the explosions that are popping off like a 4th of July celebration. They return to the stage to bid farewell once more, “Always remember, we are Motley fucking Crue” screams Neil.
Chants for an encore break out and after a few minutes, movement can be seen from the middle of the floor, where a group of security guards come marching out with the band between them. They reach the sound board, where a drum set can be seen. Sure enough, the final two tracks of the night are played on a raised platform no larger than my kitchen, right smack dab in the middle of the arena. Brilliant! That is how you salute the people that made you who you are, and I was happy to have been there to witness the alleged end of an era. I still feel they will be back at some point, but if not, they will have left a lasting legacy and an unforgettable moment for their fans in la belle province to cherish.
As we make our way along the smoke-filled corridors and out into the pissing rain, through all the awestruck fans and pirates trying to sell their crappy bootlegged shirts and hats, into the construction that is going on all around the Bell Center, I feel strangely content. Like I have just witnessed a part of rock history.
Rest In Peace Motley Crue.
Review – Kieron Yates
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