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  • Houston Press

    The Passion of Victoria Osteen

    A flight attendant's smackdown with the wife of mega-preacher Joel Osteen inspires a whole new set of commandments.

    By Rich Connelly

  • City Pages

    Your Field Guide to the RNC

    Today Denver, tomorrow the Twin Cities.

    By Matt Snyders and Bradley Campbell

  • The Pitch

    Star Power

    A country musician rescues Waylon Jennings' tour bus from the scrap heap.

    By C.J. Janovy

  • Village Voice

    Serrano's Second Movement

    The provocateur who brought you "Piss Christ" pinches off a new concept.

    By Lynn Yaeger

Mötley Crüe

By Michael Roberts

Published on July 24, 2008

When veteran groups release albums long after their commercial prime, they’re routinely described as new. But this last word usually belongs in quotes — a point proven by Saints of Los Angeles, the most recent platter by Mötley Crüe, joined at Fiddler’s by Buckcherry, Papa Roach, SIXX:AM (Nikki Sixx’s other group) and Trapt. The disc’s sound consciously evokes the nasty grind of the hair-metal era, and that’s fine — better that than playing riff rock over faux-Timbaland rhythms. Lyrically, though, the tunes tend toward tedious nostalgia for the good ol’ days: “What’s It Gonna Take” is dominated by images of girls doing powder on the Sunset Strip and label reps insisting that the Crüe will never write a hit, while “Down at the Whisky” turns on the treacly hook “Do you remember when?” In fact, a lot of us do — and back in the day, such misty-eyed sentimentality would have been roundly ridiculed. Which remains a damn good idea.
Sun., July 27, 4:30 p.m., 2008



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