Picks and Pans Review: Girls, Girls, Girls

updated 07/13/1987 AT 01:00 AM EDT

originally published 07/13/1987 AT 01:00 AM EDT

Mötley Crüe

Gradually, most of the other Hollywood glam rockers have teetered off on their high-heeled boots to try to make an honest living. In the light of day. Without makeup. That has left Mötley Crüe alone in the field. Know what? They're still the worst band in the genre. Hearing this record is like watching Wile E. Coyote in the Road Runner cartoons. All that profligate energy and fancy equipment gets marshaled together to absolutely no purpose. The Crüe wouldn't know a good riff if it reached out and bit them, as it does on the title track. As usual, bass player Nikki Sixx writes all the lyrics. This nursery school poet has the best grasp of language in the band? When he isn't bragging about the group's sexual prowess he uncorks such non sequiturs as: "Fuel-injected dreams/ Are bursting at the seams/ Am I in Persia/ Or am I just insane?" It's saying something that relative to their four previous abysmal albums, Girls, Girls, Girls is an improvement. Vince Neil is in better voice. Producer Tom Werman vividly brings out the sounds of Mick Mars's guitar and Tommy Lee's drums. But it's still an exercise in furious aural churning, with little melodic sense, even when the group is copying others, as on Bad Boy Boogie, a ZZ Top knockoff. Girls, Girls, Girls is boring, boring, boring. (Elektra)

From Our Partners