Aerosmith still giving fans bang for their buck

Geoff Carter

Wednesday, May 5, 1999 | 9:50 a.m.

Before Monday's Aerosmith show at the Thomas & Mack Center, I went to the Double Down Saloon, as I do before every T&M gig. (Moral support, you know.) Something there invariably sets the tone for the evening: That night, it was Melo the bartender's suggestion that I "write the entire article on (Aerosmith vocalist Steven Tyler's) daughter."

Well, I can't do that. Oh, Lord knows I could do an entire piece on Liv Tyler -- I am a man, after all, and Liv has those family trait full lips -- but I won't, for two reasons. One: I haven't seen "Cookie's Fortune" yet. Two: Even before the first chord of "Toys in the Attic" had a chance to bounce off the capacity crowd, it was obvious that Aerosmith was going to take up the entire review. They're just too interesting and, ultimately, too good.

Say what you will about the aging rockers -- and I know you have -- but they have never misrepresented themselves. Never sounded a false note, never pretended to any throne, never capitulated to a trend. By that reckoning, it's hardly their fault they continue to sell millions upon millions upon millions of records to people like you. It's the rock, kids, and it won't be denied. I like 'em. My mom likes 'em. And part of you likes 'em, like it or not.

Aerosmith knows this, and plays to your weakness. If they left one of their hits untouched over the course of their full-throttle set, heaven knows what it was. "Cryin'," "Love in an Elevator," "Rag Doll" -- it seemed like Aerosmith was a jukebox, and some occult hand kept plugging coins in.

Rarely has a band gone such distances toward pleasing every last member of their audience. Every trapping that could conceivably be used to make a rock band look like a rock band -- the pyrotechnics, the UFO lighting -- was used for punctuation. When Joe Perry cranked out a guitar lead, it was the biggest lead in the world. When Joey Kramer smacked out that thunderous, treated drum bleat in "Janie's Got a Gun," you could feel it underfoot. And even with the aid of a TelePrompTer, Steven Tyler's performance was more natural -- and crowd-pleasing -- than anything in Liv's filmography thus far.

Sometimes, enough was too much. "Kiss Your Past Goodbye," one of its stronger songs in recent years, almost got lost in the bombast. And "Dream On" -- one of the defining hits of the '70s -- could be performed simply to the lighters held aloft by fans and not lose one bit of power. (Worth noting: the TelePrompTer was turned off for the duration of the song. Some things never leave you.)

Still, bigger is what you pay for, and Aerosmith at least makes it pay. They cover every portion of the crowd (Tyler had his choice of two side platforms, jutting into the crowd; he used both frequently) and the only concession they've made to our current hissy, self-righteous moral climate was getting off the bottle. Even in the realm of arena rock, with its groupies, fireworks and million-dollar royalty checks, these things count.