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The years have not been kind to this band, that is all I can say about this song, which unfortunately can not really be associated with what was once the band that personified 80s sleaze. For the young teenager who is rocking out to “New Found Glory” or perhaps even “St. Anger”, this song might function as a token song from a once great 80s band for an I-Pod compilation, but that is sadly the extent of it’s usefulness.
Lyrically this song could have been written for the reunion of Boys to Men or perhaps even the Backstreet Boys. It can be summed up as some whiny words from a man begging to be noticed; a man that doesn’t realize that he’s singing a sappy love song at the ripe old age of 40 or so to a bunch of high school girls. The vocal delivery is equally uninspired with a flat range that doesn’t extend beyond an octave; this is the kind of song that Creed could perform if Scott Stapp had been a tenor rather than a baritone.
This song consists of one heavy riff that unfortunately sees no development whatsoever. You’ve got the already established grunge cliché of a quiet and gloomy, though extremely repetitive clean guitar drone for the verse, followed by the distorted riff during the chorus that was okay for an intro but has already become tiresome. That is the entire song’s structure, which completely defies any logical explanation when one remembers that this is the same band that wrote “Wild Side” and “Dr. Feelgood”. On top of this, we have absolutely no solo to speak of, we only get a few short blues licks at the end of the song, which are so low in the mix that they may as well not be there.
When left with this pile of garbage as the latest original offering from what was once a force to be reckoned with, the core fan of Motley Crue is left with one question, “How did this happen?” Unfortunately the bands who truly were destroyed by the changeover in the 1990s were the mainstream friendly glam and sleaze acts and many others whom were not directly linked to the NWOBHM. Dokken, Scorpions, Queensryche, Metallica, Dio and Iron Maiden all suffered heavily during that decade and many of them have yet to recover from it. I guess when your core principles are put to such an incredible test as potentially losing your audience to a bunch of no talent, flannel-wearing, cock-smoking halfwits you sometimes forget what your music is all about. Motley Crue was not at it’s best when it wrote mushy Power Ballads, perhaps with the exception of “Home Sweet Home”, but the attempt to marry one to their more heavy rocking sound is far worse, and that is what they have been reduced to here.
In conclusion, although this band has been extremely off its game since the initial exodus of Vince Neal, this song is a stain on a brilliant career that need not have occurred. This song would have agreed with me a whole lot more if it were varied more, if Mars could rip out one of his short but sweet solos, and if Vince would sing like he means it, but it seems that one would be hoping against hope if he expected such things. I don’t plan to let this song tarnish my memories of this band, and I hope that few others will allow that to happen.