MetalSucks

Whenever hair rock is ridiculed, discounted, and slighted by metal’s sandy vaginas/haircut jockeys, it’s conveniently forgotten that the reviled oh-faced crotchboys only represent the most visually memorable/thematically asinine segment of the genre. I can’t FUCKING STAND this blind slagging, especially from dudes who weren’t there/out of diapers at the time. I was only a pre-teen (who looted a relative’s purse to buy the first Badlands tape  – sorry, Aunt Rita), yet even I knew about the movement of bands opposed to the fluffy, boob-crazy antics of Warrant, Poison, et al. Most were bluesier and dark, and therefore aimed at listeners whose incentive to purchase music lay beyond the promise of nipple-packed videos. And though it’s a microscopic distinction, I point out that the harder-edged hair rock acts put emphasis not on partying so much as on getting fucking fucked up. Also: No synths, but the occasional organ. Tight leather and denim, but no spandex. You get it. Sleaze Rock, not Splits-Off-Drum Riser Rock.

So why did these non-pretty, non-eyeliner bands get signed to major labels? I guess it’s thanks to the danger of Appetite For Destruction, but one could imagine the logic of targeting horny dudes who buy shitloads of CDs, though none offered by guys with names like Kip Winger or Mark Slaughter. (Except Florentine – total bulge-petter.) Okay, so none really went beyond Gold sales, but each landed a (probably awful) major deal: Atlantic signed Badlands, Geffen had Junkyard. Warners and BulletBoys. Columbia added to their Dokken-tainted roster both Love/Hate and arguably the most lovable and least loved, Dangerous Toys.

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The one and only time I saw Slaughter live, they were the first group on a four band hair metal package tour at Jones Beach (or Hilfiger at Jones Beach or Nikon at Jones Beach or whatever the fuck it’s called now). That’s a good sized venue – to give you some sense, everyone from Aerosmith to Kiss to Motley Crue has headlined there in recent years – but, at something like five in the afternoon (on a weekend, if memory serves), the place was empty enough that Mark Slaughter was able to run through the stands, giving the few of us who had actually shown up high fives – with no security detail whatsoever. The show was packed by the time Cinderella went on later in the day, but while kids will show up at 10 am to hear whomever play the second stage at Ozzfest, Slaughter couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm from their aging fan base to get people to show up on a Saturday afternoon.

ANYWAY, here’s a video I saw on Blabbermouth of Mark Slaughter sounding like absolute dog shit. Maybe I’d feel bad if I’d been a bigger Slaughter fan back in the day – but really, I just want to point and laugh. If his glass-shattering pipes ain’t what they used to be, then Mark Slaughter – and, by extension, his entire band – truly have nothing to offer anyone anymore.

-AR