Nikki Sixx crashes with ‘Heroin’

There’s a reason why books don’t have soundtracks. In Nikki Sixx’s case, it might be because Hair Metal and overly emotional ranting about his drug days looks like an extra way to cash in on a problem that affects thousands of people. “The Heroin Diaries” is the companion soundtrack to his same-titled autobiography released earlier this year.

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By Kai Parker

By Kai Parker

There’s a reason why books don’t have soundtracks.

In Nikki Sixx’s case, it might be because Hair Metal and overly emotional ranting about his drug days looks like an extra way to cash in on a problem that affects thousands of people.

“The Heroin Diaries” is the companion soundtrack to his same-titled autobiography released earlier this year.

His story, and his music, is all about as obvious as the title, going into extensive detail about his excesses involving drugs during his time with the seminal 80’s glam rock band Mötley Crüe.

You would like to think that Sixx would have at least something insightful or profound to say about his dark days of addiction, but he doesn’t.

“The Heroin Diaries” comes across more like an episode of E! True Hollywood Story, played for a quick cash-in and easy sympathy from Mötley Crüe fans, with no depth or insight into the monster that is drug addiction other than how often he came close to death.

This, combined with the fact that Mötley Crüe was a band that all but prided themselves on every possible excess, makes many of the stories here come across as almost humorous if not, frighteningly, boastful.

The tone Sixx sets is not so much, “I can’t believe how low I sank,” but rather, “I can’t believe how low I sank…AND LIVED, BABY!!!” (Commence excessive guitar solo.)

For instance, in the autobiography (really more of a series of journal entries), he relates a story about one of the times he OD’d at his dealer’s house.

The dealer, in an effort to revive him, and as per what I can only assume are standard OD revival procedures–and I’m not making this up- repeatedly beat him with a baseball bat.

When that failed (shockingly) he dumped his body in a trash can.

When Sixx came to several hours later, he realized, as he so eloquently writes, “I guess I had another dark secret I couldn’t tell anybody.”

Wow.

I mean, where do I even go with this?

Actually that last quote brings up another major problem with the album.

Not only is it riddled with clichés that detract from what power the album might have otherwise contained (the words “die,” “death,” or “funeral” appear in every song.)

The book seems so self-centered that one wonders whether or not Sixx truly grasps whether or not other people might actually have been as affected by his addiction as he.

He has five children from two separate marriages (both to former Playboy Playmates), none of whom are mentioned here.

On the track “Dead Man’s Ballet” he goes on a rant against his own father: “You miserable father/the one who ignored me for half of my life/now I can’t even look at you/why why why?”

But none of this should come as much of a surprise, since Sixx tips us off to his self-centered theme almost right away in the album’s opener, the unfortunately hilariously-titled “Xmas in Hell,” where he states, “Thirty minutes ago/I could have killed somebody/or better yet…myself.”

Lyrics like this make me question the validity of Sixx’s alleged purpose behind the creation of the album.

And what about the rest of the album, you ask?

Ironically, it’s unlikely “The Heroin Diaries” will appeal to all but the most diehard Mötley Crüe and Sixx fans, as most of the music falls into bland, uninteresting power pop material. Think Creed, without the overtly religious subtext.

There’s nothing here to differentiate any of the tracks from the dozens of other rock groups currently playing on the radio.

Curiously, the album has three spoken-word tracks that are basically excerpts from his book.

These add nothing of value to the album, with little to no sincerity emerging from Sixx’s reading.

I could go into further detail about what I didn’t like about this album, but by now I think you know where this review is going.

For those of you who think I may have been too harsh on Sixx, I ask you to consider the sticker on the front of the CD cover that proclaims the music on “The Heroin Diaries” to be “addictive.”

That, dear readers, is just poor taste.

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