Hanoi Rocks - Strange Boys Box album review
Flawed box from frequently floored Finns
It’s 32 years since Hanoi Rocks’ drummer Razzle died, a victim of vehicular manslaughter at 24. When Raz died, Hanoi Rocks died with him. For their last, and best, two years, their most recent recruit’s unrelenting chirpiness seemed the only thing keeping the gloriously chaotic quintet together.
When an unpolished, unsophisticated Hanoi Rocks unexpectedly burst out of the hitherto undiscovered rock’n’roll frontier of Finland in an explosion of colour, attitude, half-cocked pop nous and fully cocked glam swagger they were a breath of fresh air. Gloriously naive, spectacularly uncool (successive music-press memos concerning what could no longer be worn post-punk had clearly failed to reach Finland), they were a New York Dolls cheese-dream; Rolling Stones reborn as 42nd Street hookers. It was all fringed leather this, feather boa-ed that, stetsons, tats, pouts, preens, a Boots-full of slap and hair… so much hair. Lead vocalist Michael Monroe was ‘the most beautiful man alive’, and the others, well, they were drunk. Spectacularly drunk.