Leave Room for Dessert

The second inductee into my hedonistic hair metal heaven is “Cherry Pie,” Warrant’s epic and ethereal endeavor capable of defining an artist. This masterpiece is so aurally rich, narratively complex, and thematically expansive that it would take something on the order of a master’s thesis to fully stake out its parameters. Nevertheless, I will attempt to analyze the significance of the aforementioned video that has solidified Warrant as the voice of a generation.


Right from the onset, you know this is going to be one of those videos filmed in a room with white walls, white floors, and white ceilings, giving the impression that the band is performing in purgatory. Soon we are introduced to America’s second favorite glam rock groupie, who, instead of expiating her sins, is roller skating through purgatory in an apron. A myriad of scintillating baseball metaphors for sexual relations follows as a slice of pie is dropped in Bobbie Brown’s crotch. The symbolism is profound. Brown kicks her legs in the air on a couch shaped like a pair of lips as the drumheads become—wait for it—wait for it—cherry pies.

The band dons firefighters’ apparel and sprays down Ms. Brown with a fire hose. She continues to dance and frolic, eat cherries and lick her fingers. Ahead of their time, Warrant utilizes thrilling visuals and Matrix-like special effects to enhance the concept of the video and deep lyrical content:

Put a smile on your face ten miles wide…

“Cherry Pie” makes for a delicious and elegant dining experience, but may I recommend a fine wine to enhance the taste? Jani Lane’s diatribe on Heavy: The Story of Metal is one of my favorite things in the world. It makes me laugh. It makes me weep. It makes me want to donate half my paycheck to the suicide prevention charity. The first time I saw it, I immediately began writing a script surrounding the last days of Jani Lane, a role Philip Seymour Hoffman was born to play (good call, right?). Then he signed up for Celebrity Fit Club and lost 23 pounds. The movie is going to be so much more badass…


For some, "Cherry Pie" is a place where the penitent are purified from venial sins. For others, it is a more permanent state of punishment and torment. For me, it's not "Heaven," but it's angelic in comparison to their cover of "We Will Rock You."

Hair Metal Heaven Isn't Too Far Away

After watching two consecutive hours of Metal Mania on VH1 Classic, I feel inspired to consecrate a hallowed ground where hair metal videos from the days of yore can be panegyrized for their decadence and synchronized headbanging sequences - a sort of Hall of Fame for hair metal videos.

Headlining the inaugural class of 2008 is “Turn Up the Radio” by Autograph.


I find it rather disheartening that most people who haven’t watched the Kirk Cameron classic, Like Father Like Son, or played Grand Theft Auto: Vice City until their thumbs blistered don’t remember the glam metal juggernaut from the City of Angels that is Autograph. Then again, I assume it’s hard to stand the test of time when your lead singer bears a striking resemblance to Carrot Top in red leather pants, only lamer and 30 percent more feminine (think Richard Simmons with fiery red locks).

Ronnie James Dio looks cooler now.

The video commences with the band marching through a futuristic opening in the wall. A homosexual Robocop that enjoys rainbow-colored laser light shows advises them to “sign in please,” a clever reference to their album which bears the same name. It all ties together quite nicely. Gay Robocop makes a pencil appear and hover in a ray of green light. The band knows what to do. They all sign their names next to their respective instruments. The drummer, however, signs his name with an “X,” which Homocop interprets as an error. He immediately erases it and stashes the pencil in his Jew ’fro.

Here come the keyboards, the surefire sign of a successful “metal” venture. A crowd of fans appear, including an extra from the Karate Kid set, and they know all the words. The body of the video follows the typical formula for the time: the drummer points his drumstick at the camera and there are many unfortunate close-ups of frontman Steve Plunkett giving abortive looks of intensity.

As the show nears its conclusion, the drummer pulls the pencil from his rat’s nest and Plunkett tosses it into the gathering of sex-crazed females. The bandmates look genuinely astonished that either a) semi-attractive women are actually interested in such hideous creatures and, for some unknown reason, desire their writing utensils, and/or b) one of the aforementioned semi-attractive women possesses the hand-eye coordination to catch the writing utensil. They give each other the thumbs up. They all hop in a vehicle with suicide doors and the homosexual Robocop transports them to their next hallucination.

It’s nearly impossible to describe such a groundbreaking artistic venture with words. No combination of sounds or morphemes has been assigned such a meaning in the English lexicon. The one adjective that comes closest is awesome. Keep a close eye on United States of Apathy as you never know when your favorite—"Balls to the Wall” by Accept or the Bulletboys’ “Smooth Up in Ya”—will receive the honor and deference it so rightfully deserves.