God of War

Mention the name Mick Mars in a casual discussion about guitars / tone, and you're likely to draw some raised eyebrows. Indeed, the self-proclaimed "extra-terrestrial" guitarst for Motley Crue certainly does not fit the stereotypical role of "guitar god" - - even though his guitar credentials are as lengthy as his drummer's *ahem* - - - well, we won't go there. Unlike many of of the 1980's metal-playing contemporaries whose legacy has been linked mostly to spandex and excessive behaviour, Mars has quietly (*an unlikely metaphor when describing anything Motley Crue) plied his craft for (27) years. Brothers & sisters, let me tell you, you don't get by that long in the rock n' roll biz without being able to throw down some kick-a$$ licks. Or better yet - without killer tone.

When the Crue launched themselves head-first into the 80's music scene, their sound was raw and unpolished. Mars' early 80's guitar sound was equal to task - edgy, surgical, over-driven. As the band began to find its own voice, his tone became more evolved - larger, fuller, more menacing. By the time the Dr. Feelgood album was released, Mars' guitar was the band's calling card - - huge, hooky riffs; giant walls of tube-driven vintage Marshalls; crescendos of dive-bombing whammy-bar madness. Set to Sixx / Lee's howitzer-class rhythm section and Neil's slinking, caterwaul vocals - - the Crue became the shiny, pouncing animal hood ornament on glam metal's speeding sports car. Until, of course, it crashed at high speed into a tree called grunge rock.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Mars' "horror-film-meets-voodoo-witchdoctor" persona - something that not only is a perfect fit in the Crue "schtick" - it compliments his playing style perfectly. Eyes peering eerily from under a skull-and-crossbone'd Alice In Wonderland top hat, Mick seems most content to let his bandmates flaunt and flounce about the stage, while his tatooed fingers strangle shrieking notes and chords from the neck of a well-thrashed early 70's Stratocaster. He'll flash the occasional Mona Lisa-like grin - sublime . . . nonchalant. Players who kick-ass know it - and most definitely, Mars knows it.

Unfortunately, over the last decade or so, in addition to various chemical afflictions, a degenerative bone disease has begun to take its cruel toll upon Mars' already road-worn body - - something which he refers to as an "inconvenience". But fate often works in strange ways, as his slight gait and hunched posture lend a somewhat creepy authenticity to the Crue's "carnival-gone-awry" imagery.

From the raucous, train-wreck of mayhem called Too Fast For Love, to the blunt-edged weaponry of 2008's Saints of Los Angeles, Mars' skull-crushing licks have always remained front-and-center in the band's overall sound. I was trying to think of another 80's metal band whose sound / tone so beautifully encompassed their genre, and I was left with only Whitesnake, Judas Priest and the Scorpions. Heavy-hitters, indeed.

Fast forward to 2008. A re-united Crue is once again pillaging its way across the U.S. / Canada - celebrating two decades of rock n' roll excess with thousands upon thousands of their die-hard fans. Touring in support of their phenomenal Saints of Los Angeles, Mars & Co. have once again reclaimed their thrones atop the hard rock heap. Louder. Hotter. Heavier. More irreverent.

Whatever it is Mick and Co. are on these days - it's working. My only hope is that they'll send some if it Aerosmith's way. Bottom's up! - - J.