T hedoor of Levykauppa Keltainen Jäänsärkijä record shop opens to a crisp Helsinki spring, yet in blows a hurricane. A twitching, motormouthing hurricane in sleeveless red leather, snakeskin boots, mirrored shades and glow-in-thedark nail stars. Jittering into the shop, it flaps itself with a scarlet fan and checks its sunburst blond locks in a handheld mirror, admirers trailing. “Are you from Hanoi Rocks? I can’t believe it!” gasps a passing fan who, as he bags an autograph, says he recently left St Petersburg for Estonia… “Because of… y’know.”
“Yeah, it’s not your fault your leader is a dick,” Michael Monroe says with a grin. “Just have a good time in rock’n’roll, okay?” As ex-Hanoi singer, resurgent Finn-rock hero and judge on The Voice Of Finland, Monroe says he gets that a lot. “Yeah, yeah,” he jabbers, “but it’s nice, it’s part of the deal. That’s why I always carry these cards with me.” He hands me a pre-signed cartoon postcard from an inside pocket. “Autograph cards. If I start signing on a street corner there’d be a line of locals getting autographs. I don’t mind, it’s part of the job. Anyone who complains about being popular is full of shit. Why’d they create a career like that, then?”
Out on the streets here in the Finnish capital – aseamless union of business and bohemia where quaint fishing ships fill the harbour and chic cocktails are worth every cent of their eyewatering price tags – Monroe is
