"Two girls make out with their naked breasts pressed together, which easily wins Onstage Behaviour Most Likely To Horrify Grandparents/Parents."
There are signed Steel Panther skins on sale at the merch (for $150 a pop) and Michael Starr later hilariously advises that "all the proceeds" from these sales go towards supporting the band's "drug habits". As we queue at the bar, support band Black Stone Cherry sound ok, but once we round the corner we notice frontman Chris Robertson has put zero effort into his appearance and barely moves up there on stage. His three bandmates give it their all; they are just let down by their leader. Even incorporating a segment of Motorhead's Ace Of Spades falls flat. (Towards the tail end of their set, Steel Panther explain why Black Stone Cherry was chosen to warm up their stage: the band play for a case of beer and all their girlfriends "take it up the ass", apparently.)
There are mullet wigs and impressive '80s hair metal-inspired clobber on fans. Steel Panther are definitely a band you either get into or you don't. A panther growl signals their arrival. Bassist Lexxi Foxx's personal Beyonce fan is activated from the get-go to billow his luscious, blonde locks/wig out behind him. Foxx's bass is so mini! The instrument appears child-size (and naturally it's also hot pink leopard print). Hilarious lyrics jump out straight away: "The security and pussy will both be tight" (Tomorrow Night). Then some hoodie-wearing bloke gets escorted out by security during song two. The band is comprised of seriously incredible players, which is something that is often overlooked in favour of their comedic aspects. "They are better than any fuckin' live band," plus one opines. Starr makes a point of farewelling the photographers after song three, Fat Girl (Thar She Blows), which is an early highlight. His sustained wails call to mind Mark Wahlberg's Rock Star character.
Foxx's handheld vanity mirror is everything, especially when he gets the massive can of hairspray out for mid-show touch-ups. Flawless guitarist Satchel labels Starr "a slightly skinnier Vince Neil" before Starr retorts, "You look like Mick Mars in the morning." And of course there's a giant inflatable phallus and blow-up doll being simultaneously volleyed around in GA. An 'Asian Hooker' is selected from the crowd to gyrate around the stage and, after her 'work' is done, a security guard escorts her along the photography pit to lift her back into the crowd from whence she came. Satchel's superb solo is like guitar karaoke that incorporates legendary riffs such as Guns N' Roses' Sweet Child Of Mine and then culminates in Advance Australia Fair. The guitarist is so genetically blessed, and perfectly formed, that he resembles a hair metal action figure.
One chick up on her mate's shoulders actually removes her top and sits up there topless, whistling repeatedly to get the band's attention before climbing down when she escapes their notice. Over a dozen ladies (17 to be exact) are lifted up on stage to dance awkwardly/take selfies/grind/flash during 17 Girls In A Row and Glory Hole. Boobs come out then two girls make out with their naked breasts pressed together, which easily wins Onstage Behaviour Most Likely To Horrify Grandparents/Parents. And the LOL lyrics just keep on coming: "You should know that sucking ain't fucking" (Eatin' Ain't Cheatin'). While the band reel off some of their favourite Australians (yep, AC/DC make the cut), Foxx claims he'd still fuck Olivia Newton-John much to the horror of his bandmates. Geez, the Death To All But Metal verses really do borrow heavily from (You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party!) by Beastie Boys (not the lyrics, obviously).
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For our encore we score Community Property, which Starr kicks off by conducting deafening audience-supplied a cappella. Following Party All Day (Fuck All Night), drummer Stix Zadinia attempts to catch Starr's hat on the end of his drum stick. He succeeds (on the fourth attempt) and thus another priceless evening's entertainment courtesy of Steel Panther concludes.