Sunday was a time warp filled with concert tees, Kiss character greasepaint, rock hands, air guitars and pleather pants. Everyone was a teenager again, if just for a night. Longtime glam and metal rockers Kiss and Mötley Crüe performed a double headline bill Sunday to a crowded house at the BOK Center.
"It's all about sex, Tulsa!" yelled Mötley Crüe frontman Vince Neil.
Indeed, the night was about that and guitar solos. And Tommy Lee's roller-coaster, mindbending, techno-laced, tricked out, super-extended drum solo. And then Kiss frontman Gene Simmons spitting blood. And fire. And those monster rocker boots. And pomp. And booze.
Did I mention sex? Because there was that, too. ... And the half dozen drunken men behind me who screamed at the go-go dancers, "Take it off!" and the riotous hoots that followed.
Mötley Crüe marched through the arena, across the floor as a giant clock hung frozen in time until they took the stage. Wordlessly, they throttled into "Saints of Los Angeles," then into classic "Wild Side," as pyrotechnics, white spotlights and lasers lit up the arena. Flames flaired behind the band as women danced in front of it.
Frontman Vince Neil was sometimes a little breathless, and didn't always sing every lyric on time. However, the rest of the band was as taut as ever, if not moreso. Crüe was the first major concert I saw as a kid, and I lost my voice during "Shout at the Devil." To be completely honest, I almost lost it this time, too.
Set songs included "Same Ol' Situation (SOS)," "Sex," "Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)," "Home Sweet Home," "Live Wire," "Primal Scream," "Dr. Feelgood," "Girls, Girls, Girls" and "Kickstart My Heart."
Youth and adults alike wore Dr. Feelgood-era shirts, 1980s Kiss tour tee replicas, animal prints and lots and lots of black. There were dreadlocks, mohawks, shaved heads (for those who don't have the same hairline they might have had 25 years ago), spray-wall bangs ... and bald spots.
To understand the mass appeal of Kiss and Mötley Crüe is to suspend reality, to accept their sexist airs as a sort of charm, to know that these are good ole boys if not also massively self-centered ones, too, and that, in essence, above all else, these are both anthem bands for the working class.
The greeting's so well-known that the arena chant along with the band, "Alright, Tulsa! You wanted the best and you've got the best, the hottest band in the world, Kiss!"
Just like their greeting, the band's show hasn't changed a whole lot over the decades. Scratch that, it's gotten even more bombastic and ridiculous and overblown.
As is expected.
Kiss is a time capsule, brimming with what makes American rock 'n' roll so influential. It's huge. It's an
arena band.
A two-story-tall screen projected the band in high definition, rock idols in platform boots.
The set included a roster of classics: "Detroit Rock City," "Shout It Out Loud," "I Love It Loud," "Love Gun," "War Machine," "Strutter," "Rock and Roll All Nite" and more. Mixed in was the new tune "Hell or Hallelujah," from their upcoming studio album "Monster."
One other thing is fairly new, too. Simmons' wedding band.
Guitarist Tommy Thayer and drummer Eric Singer jammed for an electrifying solo before Thayer shot of his "Love Gun" electric guitar, sparks shooting from the headstock. Simmons upped the ante by flying by wire to a ledge far above the audience after a thundering bass solo before "God of Thunder." Then Paul Stanley grabbed a swing and raced over the audience to another mid-arena stage and shimmied and sang.
"Lick it Up" held the crowd at its apex, screaming and chanting in time. Teenage boys even hopped up and down with excitement as the superscreen projected each band member to super size before switching gears to classic heavy-hitter "Back Diamond," with Singer at lead vocals.
The Treatment opened, a U.K. rocker that borrows heavily from the night's opening acts, and clad in skinny denim, L.A. swagger and darkened haystack haircuts. It was straight-ahead, double-bass drum pedal, engine-revving, guitar-squealing riff rock.
If they weren't so solid musically, they'd be a blatant cliche.
