‘I Wanna Rock: The ‘80s Metal Dream’ Reveals The Human Face Hidden Behind All That Hair Spray

Big hair and big hooks, power chords and power ballads, leather and spandex, pointy-ass guitars and lyrics that would definitely get you canceled. Despite all this — or perhaps directly because of it — people still just can’t get enough of ‘80s hair metal. So much so, that I’m worried I already used the previous sentence in a previous review of a previous documentary of the genre. I Wanna Rock: The ‘80s Metal Dream, the new three-part docu-series on Paramount+, improbably finds something new to say about the era by examining the lives of those involved.

The action starts not on stage but at a Chicago dentist’s office where Janet Gardner, former lead singer of Vixen, is cleaning someone’s teeth. The band’s brief moment in the sun is contrasted with the comparative mundanity of her day job. Hers is one of the more interesting stories told, of growing up Mormon and being drawn to female rockers like Fanny and The Runaways before making her musical dreams a reality.

Others portrayed include Snake Sabo of Skid Row and Kip Winger of the band Winger. They’re a good contrast. Sabo suffered hardship at an early age. Rock stardom should have offered escape but success wouldn’t bring peace of mind. For Winger, music was his lifeblood and his wide-ranging tastes gave him a laser-like focus to be the best musician he could. The cruel hands of fate and the music industry, however, would shake his sense of self.

Like Winger, singer and guitarist John Corabi was a journeyman musician whose list of credits include a brief tenure in Mötley Crüe. Like others, he followed his dreams to the Sunset Strip where an endless parade of bands tirelessly handed out handbills, playing thankless club gigs and relying on the kindness of others. “Bands survived off of strippers and prostitutes,” says manager Vicky Hamilton bluntly. Hamilton has the ignomineous distinction of having been screwed over by the Crüe, Poison and Guns N’ Roses.

Episode one, “I Wanna Be Somebody,” sets the stage, exploring the backstories of the participants and the ‘80s metal scene. Episode two, “Headed for a Heartbreak,” chronicles the golden age, when recording contracts were handed out like free cheese samples at Whole Foods and the right music video could land you on MTV. Following on the heels of Van Halen and Mötley Crüe’s success, the music industry did what it does best, cashing in with various imitators and also-rans of ever diminishing quality.

Besides artists like the all-female Vixen and those working behind the scenes, glam metal was a boys club, usually, in the worst ways possible. Sexally demeaning imagery was rampant in album cover art, music videos and song lyrics, such as Winger’s “Seventeen,” with its cringey tagline, “Daddy says she’s too young but she’s old enough for me,” which Kip Winger makes a point to say he didn’t write. Hamilton helped myriad bands get their foot in the door but was habitually passed over for male managers once they were signed. “They viewed women as nurses and secretaries and whores basically,” she says of men in the 1980s.

The hair metal boom would eventually provoke a backlash from the powers that be and the simmering underground. The hated Parents Music Resource Group (PMRC) convened a senate panel to address the inappropriate subject matter in metal and other genres, leading to the stickering of all future major label albums. On the other side of the tracks, an increasing number of music fans were sick of the hair bands and their weak ass jams. Kip Winger tragicomically discusses becoming the target of hatred for both cartoon cornholes Beavis and Butt-Head and thrash giants Metallica, seen throwing darts at a Winger poster in the video for “Nothing Else Matters,” ironically the band’s breakout power ballad.

The final episode, “Smells Like Change,” documents the fall of hair metal and its aftermath. The advent of Nirvana and grunge is often blamed with Kip Winger saying “When Nirvana came out, it was over.” If you were playing stadiums one summer and clubs the next, it must have felt like a sudden fall from grace, but the writing had always been on the wall. Rip Magazine’s Lonn Friend notes the overall better songwriting of the alternative rock bands, saying, “You can’t get away with fluff anymore. The competition’s too fierce.“ In the ensuing years, Sabo entered therapy, Hamilton went to rehab, Gardner went to dental school, Winger studied composition and Corabi kept plugging away as he always had.

By focusing on the personal lives of those involved, I Wanna Rock: The ‘80s Metal Dream finds the beating heart often hidden beneath the hair and makeup. Though it arguably could have been cut down to a single stand-alone documentary, the extra run time allows the narrative to breathe and pulls the viewer in. The end product is fun and enjoyable but also relatable and rather touching. “Being a rockstar is fucking amazing,” says Kip Winger at one point, before wearily adding, “I did not get enough of that.“

Benjamin H. Smith is a New York based writer, producer and musician. Follow him on Twitter:@BHSmithNYC.