Live Review: Steel Panther, The Art

When the proclamation “It's about time for us to disappear” receives easily the loudest reception of your half-hour set, it was an uphill battle for The Art. Despite an indifferent reaction, the Sydney sleaze rockers are almost old hands at opening for huge acts and at least looked and sounded the part. The glammers put in a sizeable effort, including a flamboyant drum solo to garner a response. If they'd popped up on the Sunset Strip circa 1987 they likely wouldn't have made much of an impact either, but did try.

Had Steel Panther appeared in Hollywood 25 years ago, they may have been run out of town for their dead-on, razor-sharp parody. Or, more likely, punters would have wildly embraced their filthy, sex and drugs-fuelled glam without a hint of irony. Either way, the passage of time heals all wounds for even the most maligned genres (see the recent nu metal “nostalgia kick”) and the sold out, positively rabid crowd was further proof that these LA lads have carved themselves a big ol', spandex-wearing niche. Plenty of dudes and dudettes behaving like the '80s never concluded meshed with others who likely weren't even born then. All got into the spirit via stylishly ripped shirts, bandannas and enough hairspray to tear the ozone layer a new one.

The quick-witted duo of vocalist Michael Starr and axeman Satchel (whose classic metal hits-drenched solo gained some of the evening's biggest cheers) have chemistry and repartee only a decade-plus of performing together can create. It also affords them the perspective that blurring lines between sending up and paying homage to the genre's misogynistic overtones by introducing several young females all-too-willing to flaunt their wares was a crowd-pleasing move regardless. The pair's stand-up comedy (much of it at the expense of verbal punching bag, hilariously preening and pouting bassist Lexxi Foxx) and more poses than a Mr. Universe competition aside, their musical credentials are impressive too. Community Property remains a gloriously executed, stitches-inducing ode to infidelity and Just Like Tiger Woods, Asian Hooker, Fat Girl (Thar She Blows) and Death To All But Metal are bona fide singalong anthems.

Mötley Crüe's Tommy Lee doesn't get the joke, but countless heavy rock fans are laughing themselves silly. Positively bitchin'.