Let’s get this out of the way early: yes, Thin Lizzy isn’t really Thin Lizzy without Phil Lynott. But the current incarnation of the band does include guitarist Scott Gorham, longtime keyboard player Darren Wharton and band co-founder Brian Downey, as well as bass legend Marco Mendoza and Alice Cooper/Brother Cane guitarist Damon Johnson, and with rock-oozing frontman Ricky Wawick contributing lead vocals and occasional guitar they’re more than capable of rendering classic Lizzy material in a sympathetic way. Their set could have been a little more classic-packed – I was pretty bummed out to not hear Southbound, for instance – but they turned in a killer set which paid tribute to classic Lizzy in attitude, even if the sonics were more modern than you’re used to hearing for this material. And yeah, they closed with The Boys Are Back In Town. Most of these band members are about to release an album of new originals under the name Black Star Riders (Warton and Downey are sitting it out), and they promise to carry on the Lizzy legacy while taking it in new directions too.
This was my second time seeing Mötley Crüe and this time they pulled out all the stops: dancing girls, acrobats, dudes on stilts, flame-throwing basses, Tommy Lee’s rollercoaster drum set, and way, way more explosions that would ever be considered necessary. Vince Neil’s vocals held up right until the last song (where he faltered just a little), Mick Mars kicked ass, Tommy Lee proved his secret reputation as one of the most solid and underrated drummers in rock (which is why bass god Stu Hamm used him on one of his muso-geek albums) and Nikki Sixx… well, Sixx is a rockstar, pure and simple. The setlist was full of crowd-pleasers as well as a few newer tracks (Saints Of Los Angeles and Sex), and they generally went over incredibly well – except when Nikki dragged a shit-scared young girl up on stage and her obvious fear at staring down 20,000 people kind put a downer on the vibe for a few minutes. Still, that business aside, it was a killer set by the Crüe and they’re definitely worth catching next time they hit Melbourne.
Before tonight, I’d never seen KISS before. And over the days before the gig, something weird happened. It was repeated over several conversations with different people. It usually went along the lines of:
Me: “Yeah, I’m not really a KISS fan.”
KISS-loving friend: “What the fuck? Fuck you, arsehole. How even dare you.”
Me: “What? “
KISS-loving friend: “I thought we had a friendship here, and then you go and say a shitty thing like that.”
Such is the fervour of the KISS fan. They feel like they have a personal relationship with the band, and to them saying you’re not a KISS fan is indistinguishable from “I hate you and everything you love.” Much of what makes people love KISS was on show tonight: the explosions, the fireworks, the elevating platforms (although one malfunctioned right at the big finale), Gene Simmons spitting blood, Paul Stanley zip-lining over the audience to a mini stage at the back of the venue, Gene flying up to the light truss, Tommy Thayer (playing the role of Ace Frehley) shooting stuff with his guitar… and despite Paul Stanley’s voice seeing better days, much of the showmanship and stage craft was there too. And the songwriting is pretty damn tight, even if we did miss out of Deuce and Shandi. If you’re one of those people who have seen KISS 25 times, I get the feeling this will not go down as the best KISS concert you’ve ever seen. But y’know what? It’s KISS, and even if you’re not a fan, you have to go see them at least once.
BY PETER HODGSON
Pic by Charles Newbury
LOVED: Justin Bieber on Crüe’s screen during the Girls Girls Girls montage.
HATED: Paul and Gene losing it at the spotlight guy and video director, respectively.
DRANK: Whisky in the jar.
