Dirt is an appropriate title for one of the filthiest works of non-fiction ever penned. There are surely other works which contain more salacious details of a group of men and their depraved exploits, but Mr. Strauss has them beat on the sheer variety of filth represented. Of course, when your subject is the infamous Motley Crue, getting dirty is far from difficult.
Fans of titillating tell-alls will be disappointed by the absence of serious graphic detail which goes wanting in favor of a sweeping portrayal of a band, its members, and their antics. And though triumph and tragedy feature prominently, there's plenty of time to zoom in on the details, capturing cancelled shows, foolish fights, petty squabbles and a dizzying array of tours which prove too numerous and various to follow. And lest we forget, the women, a veritable flurry of models who rotate through the tale as girlfriends, wives, ex-wives and friends of ex-wives. For all this, the most memorable scene is stolen by Ozzy Osbourne who, in one spectacular display of disgustitude, manages to combine about four of the foulest human activities into one, indescribable event. Just one hint... It involves ants.
For all of Motley Crue's extravagance, for all their grudges, disputes, and battles, there's an admirably captured sense of camaraderie here that lingers throughout. It and money are no doubt the only redeeming virtues for the schedules these men have kept over the years. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that the whole affair would be unbearable without them. And too, beneath the noise, there are touching moments, one death in particular that will stay with me for some time. Mr. Strauss strikes a good balance between the depravity and the humanity and leaves the reader satisfied that he has some sense of rock's last, real, riotous band. (4/5 Stars)
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