Motley Crue
Theatre of Pain

Release Date: 1985 | Tracklist

Looking back on the past few decades in music, it’s hard to think of another band that's done so much to destroy its own burgeoning legacy as Mötley Crüe, and in such a short period of time, too. Even Elvis had the good sense to descend gracefully into self-parody, Mötley Crüe all but dived in the cesspool with their third full-length Theatre of Pain in 1985.

Debut album Too Fast For Love had established the foursome as the leaders of the Sunset Strip hard rock scene, as they combined melodies reminiscent of the best of ‘70s power-pop (Cheap Trick, The Raspberries) with a harder edge courtesy of guitarist Mick Mars, whose well-honed style fell somewhere between Joe Perry and Eddie Van Halen. It didn’t matter that drummer Tommy Lee was the only member with real chops, by the time Shout at the Devil rolled around in 1983 the band had perfected their style. Their once slightly thin sound gave way tight, aggressive rhythms, Mick Mars' guitar riffs were now spacious and brooding, while vocalist Vince Neil sought to emulate ball-grabbers like Rob Halford rather than effeminates like Robin Zander.

Shout at the Devil, in 1983, was a revelation (despite the satanic theme): proof that heavy metal didn’t have to be particularly clever or difficult to sound absolutely great. A year and a half later, Theatre of Pain dropped, and it blew the success of its predecessor well and truly out of the water, became their first platinum release and even made the Top Ten. Now a lot had changed since Shout was released; Van Halen had released 1984 a year earlier, while the Scorpions and Ozzy Osbourne were riding the success of their biggest releases to date thanks to super-slick productions and catchy Def Leppard-style choruses. Theatre of Pain blended right in.

However, while Def Leppard and Van Halen were first and foremost pop bands, Mötley Crüe simply weren’t geared to produce singles on a par with ‘Jump,’ ‘Hot for Teacher’ and ‘Photograph.’ David Lee Roth and Joe Elliott were not just genuinely gifted singers and performers, they were experienced pop songwriters; Vince Neil at this stage was still having trouble singing consecutive lines in the studio (he only does one line at a time, as the saying goes). Theatre of Pain spawned two hits, one a cover: ‘Smokin’ In The Boys’ Room’ and ‘Home Sweet Home.’ Van Halen’s 1984 produced four and Def Leppard’s Pyromania three the same year; by 1987, Def Leppard could boast seven hit singles from their magnum opus Hysteria. Guess what Mötley Crüe were doing?

Going by the song titles alone, one could be forgiven for guessing Theatre of Pain was a concept record about a protest outside the Republican National Convention. Song titles like ‘Fight For Your Rights,’ ‘Raise Your Hands to Rock’ and ‘Use It or Lose It’ rival even the most ill-researched clichés in the AC/DC back catalogue. Looking back, one might have predicted this. Mötley Crüe grew up writing songs about life as street urchins, striving to pull themselves above the crowd. When they finally made it, they discovered it’s much easier to do drugs and loose women than to actually write about it or, more challenging, to actually write about something relatable.

And they weren’t just stuck for words either, Theatre of Pain is, even by mid-80s hair rock’s standards, for the most part derivative, formulaic and practically devoid of originality. In choosing to lead with a cover (and not just any cover, but a cover of ‘70s arena rock also-rans Brownsville Station’s ‘Smokin’ In The Boys’ Room’), the Crüe may have demonstrated the first recorded case of a band selling out without writing any actual singles to achieve these ends. Eight of the album’s ten tracks can be considered filler, from the “it rings so true!� noisy rocker ‘Use It or Lose It’ to the equally obnoxious ‘Louder Than Hell’ - the former copping the riff from ‘Live Wire’ and the latter a lifeless clone of Shout at the Devil’. That the rendition of ‘Smokin’ in the Boys’ Room’ is in fact very tastefully executed and a genuinely fun pop recording is heartening; that it’s the only track to feature audible bass isn’t.

Producer Tom Werman must share a portion of the blame for the mess here contained. The immense job he did on Shout at the Devil is evident by the weedy demo tracks included on that album’s Crücial Crüe re-release. The opposite is true here, as Werman’s attempt to replicate Mutt Lange’s slick commercial sound falls flat. Tommy Lee, who shone so brightly on the first two releases, is all but invisible, as his role is limited to that of a bit player, his ridiculous bass-thump filling in behind guitars and vocals to disastrous effect. The potentially brilliant partnership with Sixx hinted at on Shout is non-existent, bass mixed out of all but a few sections. Some might call this a blessing, for Nikki is hardly a “great� bassist, but one can’t help but mourn the pulsating rhythms that are so ineptly re-creating here. He did manage to get a couple of things right, however, and surprisingly enough the most well-produced track here is the one with the least outside meddling.

‘Home Sweet Home’ is far and away the best song on the album and remains a classic ballad, and the cover aside was the album’s one single-worthy piece. If this album actually has a saving grace, it’s this track. ‘Home Sweet Home’ all but re-invented the power ballad in the mid-80s, writing the blueprint for a million self-pitying introspections in the coming years. With a road-weary lyric Bob Seger would be proud of (provided the title was changed to some uncommon but All-American girl’s name, naturally), the song is a classic tale (how about Patti?) of longing to return to one’s comfort zone (Marjery?), as Neil croons, “my heart’s like an open book, for the whole world to read / I’m on my way [to] Home Sweet Home.� Easily the most enduring song in the band’s catalogue, it also sticks out like a sore thumb with a sparse, simple, keyboard-driven arrangement that compliments beautifully Vince’s most competent vocal performance (and it’s no coincidence that it’s the only song where his voice isn’t multi-tracked throughout).

There’s an old rock n’ roll cliché that links excessive drug use and creativity. They’ll say some of the best albums ever have been created with the aid of heroin, cocaine and sweet, sweet acid: Electric Ladyland, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Pet Sounds. Perhaps this is true for sensitive folks like Eric Clapton who sit around in their hotel rooms crying to Freddie King guitar solos, but when the subjects are brash, street kids with more money than sense, the end results tend to be a little less revolutionary. In Mötley Crüe’s case, it just sucked.

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