Then again, while most of their still-active brethren from the '80s have descended to the suburban club scene, Mtley Cre has proved itself downright relevant in recent years. Thanks to Lee's Tommyland memoirs and the group autobiography The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band, their legacy is far more than some scratched-up old vinyl LPs you never play anymore (and to up the ante, Sixx's Heroin Diaries will augment the library in the near future). Even the truly skeptical must marvel at how the Cre has continued to fascinate the public long after its heyday.
And the primary reason for this, even as the sideshow comes dangerously close to eclipsing the main event, is the music. It didn't hurt that in an era of pretty boys, the Cre's makeup and garish garb couldn't hide the fact that they were and remain four scruffy 'n' scrappy street kids, quite the motley crew indeed. And they played like their survival depended on it, making music that kicked, pummeled, scratched and clawed like metal on a mission, inserting barbed hooks and a cheeky wit to turn their songs into earworms damn near impossible to shake from your skull. This was hard rock as pure, unbridled, sleazy fun. Add to that the band's gift for staging concert extravaganzas, and there's every chance that "Red, White and Cre" will be the best sort of dj vu all over again.