The Death of the Frontman: When Legends Become Caricatures
There is a point in every metal fan’s life where they have to stop lying to themselves. We’ve all been there: standing in a crowd, paying triple digits for a ticket, waiting for that iconic high note to hit, only to be met with a series of rhythmic grunts and wheezes that sound more like a lawnmower dying than a rock god.
This week, we take a flamethrower to the sacred cows of the Sunset Strip. We’re looking directly at Vince Neil and the sad, bloated state of the modern Mötley Crüe experience. Is it “vocal preservation,” or is it just a blatant lack of respect for the audience? When did we…
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