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Wedded bliss

From page 84 of Classic Rock Magazine March 2004

Cover of March 2004 issue.

Do you take this band? M6tley Crüe coffin cheater Nikki Sixx hooks up with Tracii Guns to twist rock’s steaming entrails into post-millennial, punk-metal shapes. As you do.

Brides Of Destruction

‘Here Come The Brides

(Mayan) IS IT REALLY MORE THAN TWO DECADES ago that a bunch of snotty brats from Los Angeles calling themselves M6tley Crüe assaulted the rock world with their brash, cocksure mix of metal, glam and punk? Yep, M6tley Crüe introduced themselves in 1981 by telling us all they were ‘Too Fast For Love’. Now, it’s 2003 and Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx has gone backwards to go forwards by introducing us to his latest experiment in twisting the entrails of rock’n’roll into post-millennial shapes: Brides Of Destruction.

Actually, there’s nothing innovative at all about these Brides as they deliver a snot-rag of punk, metal and attitude. And despite the presence of both Sixx and LA Guns guitarist Tracii Guns, the band also never sound like they’re trying to relive past glories which have long since ceased to be of relevance to the incumbents. Amazingly, this lot do sound hungry, vicious, eager and downright nasty. There’s no feeling of flab or exotic lifestyle here; this could easily be a bunch of kids from the gutter aiming a suitable kick at the collective groins of the penthouse set.

Nikki and Tracii are joined by former Adema drummer Scot Coogan and a chap called London Le Grand, and they make a ferocious statement of intent from the start with the anthemic and bullish ‘Shut The Fuck Up’, the sort of crazed, wired sound that so many punk and metal bands these days would love to write – if only they had the balls. ‘I Don’t Care’ is a potential hit single cast in stone and forged in a furnace of Ramones and Mot6rhead, while ‘2 Times Dead’ is an almost narcotic flash of early M6tley spinning madly around the moshpit with The Misfits.

There’s isn’t a dud among the nine songs here, and unlike so many these days the Brides don’t make the mistake of overloading the album just to fill up space; each song has been carefully constructed, and then tossed into the gutter to give it that messed-up, beat-up feel. And if you don’t have shivers running down your spine when you stare down the barrel of ‘Natural Born Killers’ you must have ice in your veins.

It’s difficult to know where Brides Of Destruction will go from here. Nikki has a commitment to one final round in the ring with M6tley, and will Tracii avoid the lure of returning to LA Guns to make a quick and easy buck? But if anyone thinks that Brides is a vanity project from two middle-aged rock stars who just got bored and fancied reliving the past, then the reality is gonna kick them right where it hurts. This is the sort of album that many younger bands won’t understand because it’s for real. The faux cutting edge and brutality that so many people believe can pass for rock’n’roll in 2004 is shown up here as the irrelevant refuge of those incapable of staring straight into the eye of the storm.

‘Here Come The Brides’ is stripped-down, honest music from a band who won’t play the corporate ballgame. You get the feeling that if this lot had an altercation with one of those blingdripping A&R types, then the latter would end up picking his teeth out of his arse. Nice to know that the old school can still teach kids about the rebel yell.

★★★★ ★

Malcolm Dome

IN A NUTSHELL

Middle-aged rock stars on the wane rediscover the joys of being snotty, brash and nasty.