Life Gets You Dirty
Yeoww, is that Michael Monroe? He looks so perfectly embalmed and preserved — which neatly dovetails into a theory that I’m starting to carry with greater and greater conviction. Didja ever see that Where Are They Now? on VH-1 with Warrant? Anyways, it boils down to this: half of the band is still rockin’ away on the toilet circuit (though the buzz is getting louder, WTF?), and the other half has settled into lives of dayjob-domestic-simplicity. So the VH-1 goofs are interviewing each faction of Warrant in turn (suit vs. rocker), and the soccer dads are looking pretty dire — expanding paunches, losin’ hair, fat-and-happy tan, but the Jani Lane-still rockin’ faction is all tight leather and long bleached hair and sunglasses. So I’m thinking to myself, “My God! The secret to eternal youth and kicks is never to lose your faith in rock and roll. Or rather, don’t break up your big dumb rock band and keep the hairspray handy, and you’ll be better than Dorian Grey.”
So now you have Michael Monroe sitting on the secret to the frigging Fountain of Youth, and in the year 2000, after nearly twenty years in the metal trenches, HE STILL, for my money, looks pretty damn close to Iggy Pop on the cover of Raw Power! And he even sounds better than Iggy does now! Read ’em and weep. If all o’ that wasn’t enough, Life Gets You Dirty is a fine, fine little record. Combines the cocky stomp of (swoon) prime glam with the rusty edges of evil punk rock, and fear not, the voice is stronger than ever. It’s kinda like if Michael Monroe was Dracula, and the Backyard Babies took the stake out of his heart, and brought him back to life, and in repayment he decided to show them what real gutter rock was all about. Here at last, is the danger we’ve been missing.
SPV, PO Box 721147, 30531 Hanover, Germany