By Steve Newton
Yesterday Aerosmith announced that, due to singer Steven Tyler’s vocal injury, the band will “retire from the touring stage.”
That’s sad news for me, because Aerosmith concerts have been a big part of my life.
When I was still a teenager I made the trek from Chilliwack, B.C. to Seattle, Washington with some high-school buddies to see Aerosmith play the Seattle Kingdome on the 1976 Rocks Tour.
Two years later I saw the band play Vancouver’s Pacific Coliseum on the Draw the Line Tour. That show went down in Vancouver concert history for how drugged up the Toxic Twins were and for how incredible their opening act, AC/DC, were. (To my infinite regret, I got there late and missed Bon Scott and company.)
Ten years after that, when the band had gotten its live shit together and was touring behind its “comeback” album, Permanent Vacation, I wrote my first review of an Aerosmith concert.
I felt very fortunate that I was getting paid to report on one of my favourite bands from the ’70s, not to mention scoring free tickets and sometimes even a backstage pass. It was such a hoot that I did it six more times.
January 20, 1988, at the Pacific Coliseum, with guests Dokken
Prior to Aerosmith‘s local appearance last week, I’d seen the Boston band in concert three times, including a show on the massive Rocks tour that saw them headlining over Jeff Beck at the Kingdome in Seattle. Each time before, they had performed more raggedly than singer Steven Tyler looked, and I went away thinking, “Jeez, that’s some kind of ripoff!”.
Not so nowadays. With Tyler, Joe Perry, and the rest of the guys off booze and drugs, they’re as capable a hard-rock act as you’re ever gonna find, as 12,500 fans discovered at the Coliseum last Wednesday (January 20).
After a rather lame opening slot by commercial metalists Dokken (who sounded like Motley Crue with a drunk Eddie Van Halen sitting in), Aerosmith kicked things off with the title track of their breakthrough 1976 LP Toys in the Attic. Steven Tyler appeared in a skin-tight white outfit, replete with headband, bell bottoms, and scarves aplenty, and danced around like a scarecrow with a bumblebee up its butt.
Mainman Joe Perry was a contrast with his shiny black wet-look, traipsing around and knocking off raucous lead and rhythm licks with wild abandon. Second guitarist Brad Whitford and bassist Tom Hamilton were content mainly to stick to their own territory at stage right, laying down the rhythm with the help of straightforward skin-basher Joey Kramer.
When Perry swung into the familiar intro lick to “Same Old Song and Dance” and the band came barreling in right on cue, I knew this was the Aerosmith I’d been hoping to see all along.
“Did you know that Friday Night Videos won’t play our video?,” shouted Tyler as he introduced the band’s current single, “Dude (Looks Like a Lady)”. “They say there’s too much crotch-grabbing in it.” But that didn’t stop Steve from grabbing his whenever possible.
As if to drive home the band’s preoccupation with the male reproductive organs, Aerosmith stormed through the naughty “Big Ten Inch Record”, while the first of many expensive-looking running shoes went whizzing past Tyler’s head.
Later on in the show, when he got fed up with being a target for Adidas, he warned that the next person to throw something would be the victim of some heinously stupid punishment, too rude to describe.
This tactic seemed to work pretty well and soon Tyler was safe to rampage about the stage to the strains of “Back in the Saddle” (the band’s theme song nowadays) and “Draw the Line” (with thrashy tunes like this, who needs “speed metal”? Not me.)
After a nifty extended drum solo–in which Kramer played the stage itself with some new-fangled electronic drumsticks–the band came out for an encore of the Beatles’ “I’m Down” and their own classic ode to gettin’ it on, “Walk This Way”.
March 17, 1990, at the Pacific Coliseum
Boy, the nerve of those Aerosmith guys! They stay in our city for months on end, tie up our world-class studios, use our best producers and engineers, hog all the seats in our strip bars, and then deny the city’s top entertainment rag a crummy phone interview! It’s nearly enough to make you wanna trash your worn-out copy of Get Your Wings and slag their show in revenge!
But not quite enough. Because even if they are big shots these days, Aerosmith is still one of the best kick-ass bands around, if not the best. The clean and sober kings of the raunchy riff showed a sold-out crowd at the Coliseum last Saturday that there is indeed a place for sex, no drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
But, while the Aerosmith boys have reputedly left the drugs and the booze behind them, it was obvious from the number of casualties occupying first-aid stretchers that many of their fans haven’t. One young fellow was so wasted that he decided to barge his way through the Coliseum’s glass doors without a ticket–while they were closed! Luckily, the local constabulary was there to show him that Aerosmith most certainly does not play for free.
Rowdies and bad-trippers aside, most of the real action was taking place on the stage, which was made out to resemble a rooftop, complete with Vancouver Hotel sign, laundry hanging out to dry, and steaming chimneys. The typically slinky Steven Tyler, dressed in a silky white jumpsuit and tailcoat, made the vast layout of steps and platforms a playground on which he gyrated and squirmed salaciously, while guitarist Joe Perry was Tyler’s antithesis in fringed black-leather jacket and pants.
Perry’s first solo was inaudible, but the bugs in his setup were soon worked out and he was free to trade dangerous licks with co-guitarist Brad Whitford, who actually out-riffed his higher-profile guitar mate throughout the concert. Drummer Joey Kramer was his usual stalwart self, while nonchalant bassist Tom Hamilton kept up an inconspicuous but steady throb.
“The blues had a baby and they named it rock and roll!” Tyler screeched like a demented budgie from hell, before the Margarita Horns–featuring Aerosmith producer Bruce Fairbairn and Skywalker Tom Keenlyside–hopped up for the soulful strut of “Rag Doll”. Tyler also called out local instrumental magician Randy Raine-Reusch, who blew into some sort of oversized pipe–a Himalayan sheepherders’ horn, perhaps?–for the sonorous intro to one of the band’s recent tunes, “Don’t Get Mad, Get Even”.
Aerosmith’s oldest songs (“Mama Kin”, “Dream On”) and newest ones (“Janie’s Got a Gun”, “Love in an Elevator”) went over equally well, and by the time they’d encored with the Yardbirds’ “Train Kept a Rollin’” and their biggest hit, “Walk This Way”, few fans had anything to complain about. But in light of that unforgivable no-interview deal, let’s end this one with a beef: why the hell did they leave out “Toys in the Attic” and “Back in the Saddle”?
August 14, 1993, at the Pacific Coliseum, with guests Jackyl
When I interviewed Aerosmith’s Joe Perry last week, the former doper explained that music was his drug of choice now, that it was capable of giving him an instant attitude change whenever he needed it.
Well, last Saturday (August 14) Perry and his mates showed yours truly just how potent a rock ’n’ roll buzz can be, because I got two physical rushes during the first half-hour of their Coliseum show.
And those suckers are hard to come by these days.
The band started things off with “Eat the Rich”, the tune with the opening riff that’s been going through my head for the last week, and by the time Aerosmith launched into “Toys in the Attic”, it was clear that it is still the world’s best hard-rock band, GN’R or no GN’R.
“Well, I got the buzz on tonight, motherfucker!” Steven Tyler screamed by way of introduction. The energy level of the 45-year-old vocalist seems to have increased over the years, although his performing style—like that of a horny scarecrow under the influence—hasn’t changed at all.
“Here’s an Aerosmith version of a country-and-western song,” he said, as the subtle opening strains of that ’70s fave, “Back in the Saddle”, rumbled off the stage. I got my first rush—sort of a tingling at the top of the head that flowed down into my face—when Tyler screeched, “I’m baaaaack!” at precisely the right moment in that tune.
“So ya like the old shit, eh?” he said afterwards, and the crowd of 13,000 roared its approval.
The last time Aerosmith played Vancouver, on the Pump tour, the band had a much more elaborate stage setup; this time the only real prop was Joey Kramer’s drum kit, which slid sideways on its riser. But the sparse staging and lack of special effects only helped the crowd to focus on the 25 tunes the group played during its 135-minute set.
As usual, lead guitarist Perry was a versatile standout throughout, and his searing slide work on “Draw the Line” combined with Tyler’s throat-wrenching vocal to give me that second welcome brain tweak.
Perry paid homage to former Fleetwood Mac guitarist Peter Green, taking the mike for the blues-rocking “Stop Messin’ Around”. And during the five-song encore, Perry tossed in a bit of Green’s “Oh Well” as an intro to “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” a tune made famous by his other main influence, the Yardbirds.
Atlanta-based noisemakers Jackyl opened the show, sounding like Mötley Crüe in a head-on collision with Black Oak Arkansas on the “Highway to Hell”. Their blustery mix of southern rock and amped-up boogie-blues had its moments, although it would have been nice if the originally scheduled Megadeth hadn’t been dropped from the bill.
Still, swaggering lead vocalist Jesse Dupree did play chainsaw behind his head, which I’d never seen before, and pulled off some pretty impressive stool-smashing as well.
October 24, 1994, at the Pacific Coliseum, with guests Pride & Glory
kevin statham photo
The most memorable moment of Aerosmith’s latest Vancouver concert didn’t occur when Steven Tyler came tearing out in multicoloured rags to kick-start the show with a screech at the beginning of “Eat the Rich”. Nor was it when bare-chested guitar god Joe Perry steamed across the stage during a rip-roaring solo on the band’s big hit from ’75, “Sweet Emotion”.
The greatest thing about Aerosmith’s Monday night (October 24) gig at the Coliseum didn’t even occur in full view of the more than 14,000 fans in attendance. It happened during the Perry-sung “Walk on Down”, when Tyler snuck over to an area of the stage where a nine-year-old boy with cancer was watching. It had been the Vancouver Island youngster’s big wish to meet Aerosmith and see them play, so the band made sure he and his mom got the royal treatment.
Tyler took the kid’s drumstick-laden hands in his and showed him how to drum along to the tune’s simple boogie beat. Tyler kissed the boy’s bald head and raced back on stage in time for the next song, having showed the true character of a band that has itself triumphed over adversity. And when the little guy, unaccompanied, started swinging those sticks in perfect time to the next song, “Love in an Elevator”, it was clear that Tyler’s impromptu percussion seminar had made a real difference.
Besides that little life-affirming scene, there was plenty of good rockin’ stuff going on when Boston’s hard-rock kings came to town for the second time on their triumphant Get a Grip tour. Since the group’s last visit, that album has been selling better than ever, with power ballads such as “Crazy”, “Cryin’ ”, and “Amazing” ruling North American airwaves and video channels.
Along with those mainstream pop faves, the group dredged up some of its grittier early works, ringing the crowd’s ears with such riff-driven rave-ups as “Rats in the Cellar” and “Walk This Way”.
As always, drummer Joey Kramer was the titanium anchor for the band’s metal-forged R&B excursions. You wonder if the muscular skin-thrasher sees the face of a despised ex-high school teacher on each of his drum kit’s parts, the way he smacks every cymbal and drum—even during the mellower tunes—with pissed-off, punishing might.
“This show’s brought to you by Tojo sushi,” declared Tyler at one point, referring to the West Broadway restaurant the health-conscious rockers tend to frequent. And judging by Tyler’s endless energy and Perry’s tightly toned bod, the former Toxic Twins have put their vices behind them…well, maybe not all of ’em. According to my girlfriend, who made steady use of my binoculars during the gig, the words “lick me” could be seen scrawled across Tyler’s lower belly.
Funny, I hadn’t noticed them there myself.
Opening act Pride & Glory also put on an impressive set, thanks mostly to the dazzling guitarwork of 27-year-old Zakk Wylde, who blows up amps for Ozzy Osbourne when he isn’t fronting this southern-rock power trio. Spitting acrobatically and cursing vehemently, Wylde swaggered around like a redneck Ted Nugent—only a little more macho, if you can believe that.
But the New Jersey native’s juvenile approach couldn’t conceal the fact that he has some very promising material in tunes such as the vitriolic “Horse Called War” and gospel-tinged “Sweet Jesus”. No wonder he plans on making Pride & Glory his first priority, even after helping Osbourne get back on track with his No More Tears comeback.
October 25, 1997, at the Pacific Coliseum
At the climax of Aerosmith’s two-hour-plus concert at the Coliseum last Saturday (October 25), muscular skin-basher Joey Kramer emerged from behind his rotating drum kit, trotted to the front of the stage, and jubilantly hurled one of his drumsticks into the roaring, near-capacity crowd.
Seeing as my chances were about 12,000-to-one of catching the prized strip of lumber, I wasn’t that interested, but as it soared high, end over end, I realized it was headed toward my section of the old hockey rink. A second later it was arcing down right toward me, so with glorified visions of nabbing a lifelong souvenir in mind, I reached out to claim the trophy…only to have the tall guy next to me casually throw up a hand and snatch it away.
It was my supposed buddy Bones, who wouldn’t even have been there if it hadn’t been for my spare reviewer ticket. “All right! Cool!” he exclaimed, inspecting the Zildjian-brand stick to find it emblazoned with Kramer’s name and splintered from his recent workout on the encore of “Walk This Way”, which made it extra special. Thanks to my so-called friend’s wicked catching hand, there’s one less rock collectible in my office, but that’s what I get for slagging Aerosmith’s latest CD, I suppose.
Even though I’m no fan of its current Nine Lives release, I wasn’t about to miss Aerosmith’s most recent Coliseum gig. I’d seen them play that same venue 20 years ago on the Draw the Line tour—with a Bon Scott–led AC/DC warming up!—plus three or four times since, and each time they’d gotten stronger as a live act.
They continued that tradition last weekend with a spotless 23-song marathon that mixed gritty ’70s gems such as “Back in the Saddle” and “Same Old Song and Dance” with today’s slick crotch-pop ditties (“Pink”) and mainstream power ballads (“Hole in My Soul”).
On a smartly designed stage decorated with red cats and fierce green cobras, Steven Tyler proved to be a hard-rock ringmaster of the finest sort, and it’s amazing that the 49-year-old guy can still sing—or screech, as the case may be—as effectively as ever. The loose-limbed dynamo may have originally copped his stage moves from the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, but they’re all his now, and more than 30 years of performance have honed them to raggedy perfection.
But while Tyler is the hyperactive frontman of the band, guitarist Joe Perry still cuts the ultimate Rock God figure, and his fashionable choice of duds for the night—long black gunslinger’s coat and black leather pants—didn’t hurt matters any. No wonder the swarms of curvaceous vixens given special access to the front of the stage seemed about ready to storm the swarthy idol’s barricades.
Partway through the gig Perry mentioned the abundance of tunes on the set list that were recorded in Vancouver, and before taking the lead-vocal spot on a cover of Peter Green’s “Stop Messin’ ’Round”, he dedicated that blues-rock classic to local producer Bruce Fairbairn, who helmed three of the group’s top-selling CDs over a seven-year period. Tyler also offered some complimentary asides about our city, remarking on how it’s the home of—among other things—The X-Files and “the best titty bars in the world”.
I’m not sure which of those two we’re supposed to be most proud of, but if all the rain-drenched titty bars in town pack up and move to sunny L.A., at least we’ll know which monotonic FBI truth-seeker to blame it on.
POSTSCRIPT: as you can see from the accompanying photo, I now have ownership of the Joey Kramer drumstick. My “so-called” buddy Bones is a lawyer, and after reading the review he threatened to sue my ass for libel if I didn’t accept its return as a peace offering.
So I did.
December 13, 2006, at GM Place, coheadlining with Mötley Crüe
It was billed as a coheadlining tour, but since when is Mötley Crüe equal in status to the mighty Aerosmith? I mean, come on! Aerosmith dropped more killer tunes on Get Your Wings than Motley Crue produced in its entire career! Yet for some strange reason there still seem to be a lot of Crue fans out there, and all the ones in Vancouver showed up at GM Place to worship at the altar of L.A.’s sleaze-metal kings. They lapped up the mindless ’80s crotch rock like Pam Anderson tenderizing Tommy Lee.
The former hair farmers hit the stage to shooting flames and the strains of “Dr. Feelgood”, the title track from the 1989 album recorded in Vancouver with Bob Rock before he went on to (way) better things as Metallica’s in-house producer. The band was actually pretty great when it banged out the bracing “Live Wire”, a track from its impressive debut, Too Fast for Love, but like its glam-rock forefathers KISS, Mötley Crüe put its best album out first and went downhill from there.
“We really bonded with Aerosmith when we were here makin’ Dr. Feelgood and they were makin’ Pump,” proclaimed drummer Lee, before paying crude compliments to our city’s world-class strippers and “bitches”. The Crue has made a career out of demeaning women, but, unlike the last time it was here, Lee didn’t ream the ladies out for not flashing their tits.
Vince Neil implored the crowd to sing along on “Home Sweet Home”, a hit single off 1985’s substandard Theatre of Pain, and they did so with great gusto. The strangest part of the song came when a hard-bodied woman performed Cirque du Soleil–type acrobatics, dangling from a curtain at the back of the stage while the crowd swayed happily along and flicked their Bics. The chick wasn’t even topless!
Around this time I decided I’d had enough of the glorified warm-up act, and went off in search of an early Christmas gift/concert memento for myself. There was a real nice Aerosmith track jacket going for $80; it had the old-school wiggly band-name logo from Toys in the Attic on the front, and the famous wings design from Get Your Wings across the back.
I needed it.
But the first T-shirt booth I visited only had mediums in stock, so, cursing the sizable beer gut Aerosmith inspired me to grow, I went off in search of an XL. While strolling the packed passageways of GM Place, I caught a choice tidbit of wisdom from Neil. “When I say Motley, you say Crue!” he ordered, “and when I say fuck, you say you!”
So there’s a bit of the poet in him after all.
A suitable Aerosmith jacket never materialized, but that wasn’t the only disappointment of the night. When the heroes of my teenage years hit the stage to the gorgeous racket of “Toys in the Attic”, I noticed something was wrong. Four of the five original members looked familiar, but that guy on bass sure the hell wasn’t Tom Hamilton. For one thing, he had orangey hair. And he dressed like he was in the Odds. This wasn’t what I wanted, but no matter how loud I screamed “Where’s Tom?!” the show carried on. (I later learned that Hamilton was recovering from radiation treatment for throat cancer.)
Even without its classic lineup, Aerosmith offered something for everyone. The ’80s-obsessed Motley contingent went nuts for the “comeback” hit “Love in an Elevator”; fans of 2004’s blues CD, Honkin’ on Bobo, revelled in a rowdy version of Big Joe Williams’s “Baby, Please Don’t Go”; and yours truly got his ’70s jollies watching Steven Tyler and Joe Perry conjure the awesome “Seasons of Wither” amid a fake snowstorm.
As for that new bassist, David Hull, he acquitted himself quite well, playing a super-cool solo before Tyler quipped, “What exactly are you trying to say?”, prompting Hull to respond with Hamilton’s deathless lick from “Sweet Emotion”. The only way Aerosmith could have topped that selection was by following it with the monumentally rockin’ “Draw the Line”.
So they did.
September 16, 2010, at Rogers Arena, with guest Joan Jett
Thursday (September 16) was a big night in Vancouver for legendary guitar acts from the ’70s. Over on the North Shore you had Johnny Winter at the Centennial Theatre, while, downtown, Aerosmith was packing them in at Rogers Arena. I don’t know how the albino blues-rocker from Texas fared, but the Bad Boys of Boston definitely acquitted themselves rockingly. Rumours of their demise have been greatly exaggerated, even by me.
Warm-up act Joan Jett got the crowd of 11,000 in a retro mood straightaway with the title track off her 1980 solo debut, Bad Reputation (not to be confused with Thin Lizzy’s awesome album of the same name). Looking mighty fine for 51 in black tank-top and black leather pants, the shades-wearing Jett followed up with the punky strains of “Cherry Bomb”, from her old group the Runaways, and kept the exhilarating vibe going with “Light of Day”, the Springsteen-penned theme song of the 1987 drama she costarred in with Burnaby’s favourite son, Michael.
And I don’t mean Bublé.
During the cover of Gary Glitter’s “Do You Wanna Touch Me”, also from Bad Reputation, the audience needed little coaxing to mindlessly chant “Yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!”, and Jett rewarded its obedience with “A.C.D.C.”—not the band, but the 1974 glam-rock ditty by Sweet of “Ballroom Blitz” fame.
The mid ’70s lovefest continued unabated when Aerosmith hit the stage with the blistering double-shot of “Same Old Song and Dance” and “Train Kept A-Rollin’ ” from 1974’s Get Your Wings. I have no clue how the slashing guitars of Joe Perry and Brad Whitford carried up in the nosebleeds, but from my vantage point on the floor—near the end of the ramp where vocalist Steven Tyler would sashay in his shiny silver pants—it was hard-rock heaven.
Tyler sang his skinny ass off brilliantly, making you wonder why the hell he’d shelf his singing career to become a judge on TV’s vacuous American Idol. Viewers are conditioned to seeing the talent-strapped likes of Sharon Osbourne and Simon Cowell in those type of roles anyway.
Unlike in Toronto last month—when the much-publicized animosity between Perry and Tyler led to the latter being nudged right off the stage—there didn’t seem to be any friction among the bandmates. Tyler rarely let the opportunity to embrace his buddies pass by, whether hanging off of bassist Tom Hamilton during the familiar intro to “Sweet Emotion” or getting up close and personal with drummer Joey Kramer after helping out with his extended, “Look, Ma, just hands!” solo.
While the endlessly gyrating Tyler draws most of the attention from fans, Perry is actually the most magnetic of the two. Whether peeling off choice lap-steel licks with a big stogie in his mouth during the locally made “Rag Doll” or slouching against his amp to fingerpick pretty bits of the uplifting “Dream On”, the just-turned-60 rocker personifies cool. After winning a guitar duel with the animated Guitar Hero version of himself, Perry was shown in video clips hanging out at the Gastown clock and eyeing Canucks jerseys through a store window. His fondness for our fair city is well known, as is his devotion to the six-string stylings of Peter Green, whose bluesy “Stop Messin’ Round” he sang lead on (unfortunately).
During the three-song encore—which, shockingly, didn’t include “Toys in the Attic”—Tyler got everyone to holler “Happy birthday, John!” on cue for a YouTube video that will commemorate what should have been John Lennon’s 70th birthday on October 9. Earlier on Aerosmith had shown its love of the Fab Four by performing Abbey Road’s “Come Together”, which it also recorded for that cheesy appearance in the 1978 movie Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Hey, if the band survived that calamity, it can make it through anything!
To hear the full audio of my interviews with Aerosmith’s Joe Perry from 1988, 1993, and 2010, and with Tom Hamilton from 1983 and 1994, subscribe to my Patreon page, where you can eavesdrop on over 400 of my uncut, one-on-one conversations with the legends of rock since 1982.
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