While working at my desk, I noticed an ad flash across my screen that read: “All bad things must come to an end.” Advertising has a way of tapping into our interests, and this particular message had a personal resonance. It was about Mötley Crüe’s farewell tour stopping in my city that weekend. Admittedly, I hadn’t kept up with my favorite metal bands. Between the chaos of parenting, soccer practice, and the endless scrolling through Pinterest, I had no idea Mötley Crüe was disbanding. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if they were still producing new music; my playlist seems to be stuck in 2008.
The phrase “all bad things must come to an end” made me wonder—was this truly the end, or just a clever marketing ploy to boost ticket sales? Farewell tours often serve as a precursor to reunion tours. Bands frequently break up due to conflicts, personal struggles, or egos, only to reunite later, much to fans’ delight. Perhaps I could blame my kids for my ignorance about the current music scene. While I may not be familiar with today’s hits, I can still belt out theme songs from Nick Jr. shows. Satellite radio in my minivan? Forget it. My car’s entertainment is usually dominated by children’s DVDs or their delightful decibels. It’s a far cry from the rock concerts of my youth.
If I were to compile a list of my top favorite ’80s metal bands, Mötley Crüe would undoubtedly take the crown. I had the pleasure of attending their concerts twice. Oh, how I long for the late ’80s and early ’90s, when rockstars adorned in wild hair and leopard-print spandex were the epitome of cool.
The ad felt like a personal invitation from Nikki Sixx himself, prompting me to discuss with my husband the need to secure a sitter and purchase tickets. Attending a metal concert in my forties is a distinctly different experience than in my twenties. I didn’t spend days planning my outfit; I simply threw on something clean and appropriate before leaving. My priority was no longer to be near the stage but rather to enjoy the show without being knocked down by enthusiastic fans. Do people still throw their underwear at the lead singer?
Concert-going at this age involves practical considerations like ensuring I have cash for the sitter and finding an eatery with early-bird specials, given that we would be home past our usual bedtime. Yet, despite these changes, the anticipation I felt as the hour drew closer mirrored my younger self. I listened to my favorite ’80s tracks and reminisced about my previous Crüe concerts—one of which remains a bit hazy, to be honest.
On the way to the venue, my husband and I discussed our children (as one does) and debated whether to replace our water heater now or hold off until next year. If that doesn’t scream “Decade of Decadence,” I’m not sure what does.
I was ready to rock out and enjoy an unforgettable show. And while I was not disappointed, it quickly became clear that this was not some gimmicky farewell tour. The Jumbotron displayed suggested hashtags for tweets and Instagram posts, a sign of the times. The one that caught my eye was #RIPMOTLEYCRUE.
Throughout the two-hour performance, the phrase “for the last time” was echoed multiple times by Vince, Tommy, and Nikki, who infused the show with personal reflections and insights. They utilized flair and pyrotechnics to deliver a heartfelt farewell. If any part of this felt contrived, I was thoroughly deceived.
As I sang along and played air guitar in my seat—without an ounce of shame—the bittersweet realization began to settle in. Mötley Crüe has been together for 34 years, and I’ve been a fan for nearly as long. While my memories of the ’80s may be hazy, I vividly recall purchasing Too Fast for Love on vinyl in 1983, dancing around my room, hairbrush in hand, dreaming of a glamorous life with Nikki Sixx.
The last show is set for New Year’s Eve, and I’m filled with a sense of loss. It’s not that I’ll miss their music; I know that Mötley Crüe reached their peak long ago. Their best work is forever available on my playlist, which remains firmly rooted in 2008. Vince, Tommy, and the rest are aging gracefully, as are most of their fans, myself included. Vince Neil no longer possesses the physique he had in 1988, and I certainly don’t either—no shame in that.
If Mötley Crüe were to continue touring, there would eventually come a time when they would no longer fill large venues. There’s something melancholic about watching a beloved band perform at county fairs or casinos. I know this all too well; I once saw Bret Michaels at a Rib America festival in Missouri in 2010.
So, kudos to Mötley Crüe for bowing out with dignity. However, they’ve inadvertently forced me to confront my own mortality, something I never anticipated while driving home from a rock concert. As enjoyable as it was to relive my youth, a part of me felt as though a fragment of my past was swept away with the final notes of “Home Sweet Home.”
Music evokes strong nostalgia and a complex array of emotions: highs, lows, and everything in between. I’m grateful that those eight words appeared on my screen that day.
Indeed, all good things must conclude. As they aptly noted, “Seasons must change—separate paths, separate ways.” Cheers to Mötley Crüe. While you may not be departing in anger, you are indeed saying goodbye. Thank you for 34 incredible years—most of which I can still recall. I know I’m not alone in this sentiment.
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Summary:
The farewell tour of Mötley Crüe serves as a poignant reminder that all good things must come to an end, mirroring the passage of time in our own lives. With a blend of nostalgia and acceptance, we reflect on the band’s legacy while confronting our own changes. As we embrace new chapters, we can explore options like home insemination kits that empower us in our parenting journey.
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