Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. Much like the last entry in this series, today’s featured album was released 40 years and a day ago. Prior to the release of Shout at the Devil, Mötley Crüe were virtually unknown outside of the Los Angeles area, where they had achieved infamy for their antics onstage and off. After its release, they’d go on to become the poster boys of the ’80s glam metal explosion, for better or worse. Today, we look back at the album that shot Mötley Crüe to the top, how it impacted the metal scene as a whole, and why it is undisputedly their finest hour. “So come now, children of the beast. Be strong and Shout at the Devil!”
Considering they’re one of the most chronicled bands in the history of hard rock and heavy metal, I don’t want to waste a chunk of this essay with a lengthy preamble on the events that led up to Shout at the Devil, even though it’s this type of nerd analysis I do best. As we all know, and to their credit, Mötley Crüe came from virtually nothing. It was a DIY “us against the world” punk rock ethos that fueled their shows and music from the beginning, the sleazy metalpunk masterpiece that is Too Fast for Love being self-released on the band’s Leathür Records (although it was ALMOST release on the legendary SST…who would’ve thought!)
As fate had it, this grimy rager of an album would catch the attention of Elektra A&R man, Tom Zutaut, who felt the band was onto something. Metal was slowly but surely growing in popularity in America again, clawing its way from the ashes of disco and punk. The NWOBHM was raging across the Atlantic, so it was only a matter of time before us Americans responded loud and proud. Furthermore, Crüe’s brand of metal took cues from bands like Aerosmith, Sweet, and early KISS: all acts who achieved more than considerable success a decade earlier. And as another L.A. metal band who’d dominate the ’80s sang, “What comes around goes around.”
Now considering it was Too Fast for Love that got Crüe a record deal in the first place, you’d think they’d want to follow up with a similarly natured album, right? Wrong. To an extent, I don’t blame them. Now that these four miscreants from the gutters of L.A. had actual money to spend, they were ready to trade their tattered denim and worn out leather in for a brand new wardrobe of studs, spikes, and, surprise, brand spankin’ new leather! It was as if overnight, the band went from their humble roots to taking on the role of heavy metal superheroes à la KISS.
Along with this new look came a new sound and new attitude; one that seemed nearly premanufactured to make Crüe a surefire household name. By ’83, one thing was certain: Satan sold. The devilish imagery of bands like Iron Maiden, Ozzy Osbourne, and Venom struck fear into the hearts of parents from coast to coast, and subsequently meant huge paydays for said bands as kids flocked to their records like forbidden fruit. Crüe saw this. Elektra saw this. What better way to capitalize on this raging satanic panic than with an album boasting a black pentagram on the cover entitled Shout at the Devil?
When dropping the needle on side A, one would be under the impression that we’re in for a full fledged occult metal outing, if only the ominous intro alone (“In the Beginning”). As ominous, atmospheric synths rumble and scream out of the stereo, the muffled voice of Nikki Sixx reads a dramatic monologue which, to this day, I can’t make heads or tails out of. Surely, the narrative covers that of a post-apocalyptic scenario where good was overtaken by evil. Yet in contrast to Venom’s similarly natured At War with Satan, which saw evil prevail, Crüe encourages their “Children of the Beast” to “Be strong and Shout at the Devil”. So they’re combatting the devil by wearing pentagrams and singing dark lyrics?
From the philosophical side of things, Crüe’s flirtation with the dark side made about as much logical sense as Stryper going secular. Clearly this was a band who didn’t know Anton LaVey from Anton Fig (a nice Easter egg for all you KISStards), and you know what? They didn’t give a shit, and neither do I. At the end of the day, the songs slap, and that’s what matters the most. “Shout at the Devil” introduces the new and improved full metal Crüe. Mick Mars’ riffs are beefier than ever, Tommy Lee’s drumming follows the straightforward cannon-like delivery of KISS’s Eric Carr, and even Vince Neil makes an attempt to toughen up his vocals for this new set of material.
After making it through this unabashed classic metal anthem, those who longed for the Crüe of old are given a consolation prize in the ultra sleazy “Looks That Kill”. From a musical and lyrical standpoint, this is essentially a lost Too Fast for Love song, but given the ’80s metal treatment production-wise. With its earworm of a chorus and sexual innuendos characteristic of the era, it made sense that Elektra issued “Looks That Kill” as the album’s lead single. Overnight, the band was all over MTV and rock radio, and found themselves with a *gasp* hit single!
This blatant grab at crossover appeal is suddenly stopped dead in its tracks by my favorite song off this album (and my favorite Crüe song of all time for that matter), “Bastard”. Despite the wannabe tough guy biker image they embraced in the late ’80s, Crüe’s music never really scratched that itch like say the proverbial tough guy biker band, Motörhead. “Bastards” is the exception. Fast, violent, and with nothing to lose, “Bastard” is a street metal assault on the senses, packed to the brim with explosive soloing, battering drums, and graphic lyrics. Convincing in its frantic delivery, it’s no wonder this cut overshadowed the wicked “Shout at the Devil” when making its way onto Tipper Gore’s Filthy 15 list.
Sporadically, Mick Mars throws in a cryptic melodic guitar interlude entitled “God Bless the Children of the Beast”, before side A closes with a cover of perhaps the heaviest Beatles song, “Helter Skelter”. Although viewed as innocent today, one must take into consideration certain events when looking at this cover in retrospect. Unlike now, where Paul McCartney has been playing the White Album deep cut live for the better part of 20 years, “Helter Skelter” was an extremely taboo song in ’83, essentially banned 15 years after its release for its unfortunate connections to the Tate-LaBianca murders. Covering a song of this nature was a conscious move on Crüe’s behalf, further cementing their edgelord reputation and henceforth increasing their notoriety.
As we flip over to side B, we’re greeted by another “take no prisoners” metal anthem in the vein of “Bastard”, “Red Hot”. One aspect of note in this headbanger anthem is the wild drumming of Tommy Lee. For a band of musicians who, let’s be honest, were far from virtuosos, Lee was perhaps the strongest musical link next to Mars. Get a load of his footwork on the double bass and the absurd power of his delivery. Although he never reached the heights of his influences Tommy Aldridge, Ian Paice, and Cozy Powell, one can hear shades of each in this performance. The song itself is equally unforgettable, boasting yet another mega chorus that’d become the norm for mainstream metal of the ’80s.
With its ambiguous lyrics, four on the floor rhythm, and sinister riffage, “Too Young to Fall in Love” creeps its way in, dramatically switching the mood of the album. It was melodic enough to be released as a single and spawn its own equally unique video, but by no means was this the audio rock candy of “Looks That Kill”. Whereas “Looks” is a happy go lucky ode to hedonism, “Too Young” almost feels like a warning of sorts, as if Mercyful Fate had relocated from their alleged castle in Denmark to the sunkissed beaches of L.A.
“Knock ‘Em Dead, Kid” keeps the metal ball rolling thanks to its rough and tumble riffs. Take away that fancy Californian production and you’d be forgiven for thinking this was a lost Tygers of Pan Tang or early Def Leppard tune, the latter of which who, alongside Crüe, also ushered in the glam metal revolution. Like nearly every cut off this album, the chorus is a total shout-along and those riffs are irresistibly air guitar worthy. “Ten Seconds to Love” follows this by providing one last blast of Too Fast for Love era sleaze, both musically and lyrically. Although not as poppy as “Looks That Kill”, its repetitive chorus and straightforward approach recall prime UFO at their horniest (i.e. “Shoot Shoot”, “Too Hot to Handle”, etc.)
Rounding it all out is arguably the most underrated song in Crüe’s catalog (excluding the self titled 1994 album, of course), “Danger”. When most people think of Crüe and ballads, they think of commercialized sap like “Without You” and “Home Sweet Home”, which quite truthfully is tragic. “Danger” is a haunting masterpiece of a song, cementing Crüe’s then street cred to a symphony of tense melodies and dramatic atmosphere. Neil gives one of his finest vocal performances, warning us we’re “in danger when the boys are around”, adding “This is Hollywood.” Van who? On “Danger”, Crüe proclaimed themselves the kings of the Sunset Strip, and the whole world believed it. But were they? That depends on who you ask.
From a commercial standpoint, Shout marked the beginning of an 8 year reign in which Crüe ruled the glam/pop metal roost. Sure, the aforementioned Leppard, Whitesnake, Bon Jovi, and others came close, but to this day, when people think of the era, they think of Mötley Crüe. Musically speaking, were they deserving of the acclaim? Again, it’s all a matter of opinion, but I can boldly say absolutely not. Had they kept making albums with the same hunger and firepower as Too Fast and Shout, sure.
Instead, they lost their edge on Theatre of Pain (1985), laid down the blueprint for Nickelback and the likes on Girls, Girls, Girls (1987) and Dr. Feelgood (1989), and spent the ’90s chasing trends (although the self titled is an accidental masterpiece). They’ve since made the most of their legacy status, playing the same dozen songs on loop for the past 25 years (save for the 4 years they were “retried”) at every arena, shed, and stadium in the country, and most of the time poorly at that.
I know I’m coming off as a real hater, but let’s be real: Compared to Ratt, Dokken, and W.A.S.P., Crüe could hardly hold a candle. They were in the right place at the right time, no doubt, but admittedly couldn’t achieve such superstardom without a proper launching pad, and boy did they have one with Shout. At the end of the day, no matter how many times Vince Neil forgets the lyrics, Tommy Lee flashes his junk on Instagram, Nikki Sixx makes some sort of primadonna remark, and Mick Mars sues everyone, nothing will take away from the magic of Shout. So congratulations boys on 40 years and a day of metallic perfection. Although its all but a memory now, us “Children of the Beast” will never allow it to be forgotten.