Oh dear. On paper, this probably looked like a licence to print money: Get a bunch of infamous rockers to share their crazy crazy rock 'n' roll sex stories, intersperse it with clips of some of the most gorgeous porn stars in the business doing what gorgeous porn stars do best, and top it all off with a blistering rock soundtrack. If that was indeed the plan, the list of people who said no to appearing on this DVD must be endless.
What we actually end up getting is a bunch of third-rate band members divulging details of some truly hilarious encounters with groupies, interspersed with skits of hound-rough wannabes disrobing in the name of rock 'n' roll, with a shitty threadbare soundtrack topping it all off. Take the side-splitting predicament that one of Insane Clown Posse's number found himself in: Having been with 'some big fat titties' just before a show, he went looking for the same 'big fat titties' again straight after the show, only to discover that said 'big fat titties' were actually with his band mate. Comedy gold.
Then there's the heart-warming sketch about two young girls with a dilemma: They want to meet 'the band', but in order for this to happen the roadie on the band's tour bus gives the girls two options: Suck his dick or wash the bus. What a pickle. The girls decide against the former since they're obviously not cheap sluts, so they decide to wash the bus. Still, there's nothing cheap about stripping mid-wash and spraying each other with water. Deciding that their valeting skills aren't quite up to scratch, the roadie then makes them suck his dick anyway. What a ghastly waste of suds . . .
Other highlights include Fred Durst molesting an upstart pornstar whilst dressed in a bizarre afro wig and bandido moustache (with the word 'Uncensored!' popping up rather confusingly to censor the action when things get a bit too fruity), a lady-loving member of Nashville Pussy relating how she once lifted a female groupie into the air with her fist (you fill in the gaps, no pun intended), a tale explaining why midgets are custom-made for performing oral sex, and the sight of one lucky young woman having sliced meat thrown at her naked body in an attempt to tile her with meat. Priceless.
I feel it my duty, at this stage, to point out that not everything seen within this DVD is necessarily accurate. For example, should you be on the brink of rock stardom yourself, please do not expect a trio of porn stars to suddenly invade your rehearsal space and start lezzing up on your Marshall stack - I'm afraid to say that the odds of that happening are somewhat slim.
Backstage Pass is utterly puerile horseshit, made by pituitary retards about pituitary retards for pituitary retards. Not even a short story from God-of-rock Lemmy about a serial head-giver invading the Motörhead tourbus can save this ridiculously pointless affair. If it's tales of rock and roll debauchery you're after, buy Keith Moon's autobiography. If it's porn you're after, buy Cum Dumpsters #3. Even if you find it on a bus, do not watch Backstage Pass. Abysmal . . .
:: Philip Goodfellow