In this episode of The Joe Rogan Experience, Joe Rogan and Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee explore the intersection of rock music, personal transformation, and modern culture. Lee shares how bonsai cultivation and Zen practices have grounded him after decades of touring, explaining the technical precision required and how Japanese garden philosophy has reshaped his approach to life and fame.
The conversation covers the evolution of the music industry since Lee's breakthrough in 1980, examining how streaming platforms and shortened attention spans have changed how music is created and discovered. Lee and Rogan also discuss drumming as both athletic performance and artistic expression, luxury car culture as a counterpoint to digital technology, and the challenges artists face in an era where 300,000 new songs are uploaded daily. Throughout, Lee reflects on balancing creative authenticity with commercial pressures and maintaining longevity in rock music.

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In this episode, Joe Rogan and Tommy Lee discuss Lee's transformation through bonsai cultivation and Zen practices. Lee explains that eight years ago, inspired by Japanese gardens and temples in Kyoto, he began dedicating hours daily to bonsai, using it to ground himself and escape the chaos of his rock career. The practice requires immense technical skill—wiring, pruning, and training trees, some over 300 years old. Lee describes how Zen garden philosophy, with its curved paths designed to slow visitors and promote mindfulness, has fundamentally changed his approach to daily life, helping him manage the frenetic pace of being a rock star.
Lee also reflects on balancing family with his lifestyle, expressing pride that his 29-year-old son chose stability and commitment over chaos. He recounts bringing his sons on tour to maintain connection, giving them crew roles so they could spend time together. After a recent two-and-a-half-year stadium run, Lee has come to appreciate time at home, recognizing the importance of balance. He maintains his mental and physical health through bonsai, exercise, meditation with Japanese garden videos, and intentional practices rooted in Zen philosophy—a holistic routine that has kept him at his high school weight and provided peace amid the turbulence of fame.
Rogan and Lee discuss how record executives lacking musical expertise interfere with creative decisions, motivated solely by financial metrics. Lee recalls executives demanding shorter songs and drum solos based on statistics rather than artistry. He explains how Mötley Crüe maintained creative control by barring label representatives from studio sessions, protecting their vision from uninformed interference. Rogan describes how executive interference has ruined careers, citing Billy Squier's downfall after a poorly conceived music video. Squier later blamed deception and alteration of his original concept, with ticket sales dropping immediately after the video aired.
The conversation shifts to how the industry has transformed since 1980, when Lee broke out at age 18 in an era of chaotic freedom and few boundaries. Lee points out that Spotify now sees 300,000 new songs uploaded daily, creating overwhelming volume that drowns out original talent and forces artists to grab attention immediately or risk being skipped. Despite these changes, certain songs remain timeless. Rogan describes Mötley Crüe's "Kickstart My Heart" as "fuel" that energizes listeners and alters their physical states. Lee reflects on how this enduring effect manifests in their multigenerational fan base, with parents bringing children who experience the music's energy for the first time, demonstrating how authentic rock artistry forges connections across generations.
Tommy Lee's approach to drumming combines athletic endurance with technical innovation. He recounts attaching a pedometer during a two-hour concert and discovering he covered 13.3 miles' worth of motion, underscoring the immense physical output involved. Both Lee and Rogan describe drumming as one of music's most athletic activities, where maintaining power, speed, and accuracy while coordinating all limbs makes it nearly impossible to be out of shape and perform at a high level.
Lee is also renowned for bringing spectacle to drumming performance. Inspired by audiences leaving during drum solos, he resolved to reimagine stagecraft with elaborate drum risers, pyrotechnics, and later his iconic roller coaster and gyroscopic platforms that spin, invert, and travel throughout arenas. To make these stunts possible, Lee engineered technical modifications like installing springs on pedals to counteract gravity during upside-down performances. Each nine-minute inverted performance leaves him breathless and needing oxygen, yet he constantly pushes boundaries to create unforgettable experiences.
Lee's musical foundation is entirely self-taught, developed by playing along to records rather than through formal lessons. Forever restless for new sonic experiences, he experiments with melodic hand drums and transforms found objects into percussion instruments. Lee speaks to drumming's primal essence as the heartbeat for both band and audience, with rhythm acting as a powerful, tribal force. For Lee, making people move before they even process the song's melody is the ultimate artistic fulfillment.
Rogan and Lee explore luxury automobiles, contrasting the soul of classic mechanical cars with modern electric vehicles. They argue that as technology becomes digital, enthusiasts crave the visceral experience only mechanical engines provide. Rogan notes dramatic depreciation in used electric vehicles while classic sports cars soar in value, likening used electric cars to outdated phones. Both hosts lament Ferrari's electric car, describing it as "dog shit" and "boring" compared to the Ferrari 458, SF90, and LaFerrari, which they call "works of art" with flowing lines and stunning design. Rogan describes Ferrari engines as "heavenly" and "melodic," infused with Italian passion, compared to the raw power of American muscle.
Discussing American muscle cars, they praise the 1982 Corvette as visually striking while deriding the 1982 Mustang as "hot dog shit." To highlight design decline, Rogan compares the iconic 1969 Boss 429 Mustang to the "disgusting" 1982 version, facetiously blaming Nixon-era drug crackdowns for killing creative flair. They extol the Shelby Cobra as a pinnacle of American car culture: a lightweight fiberglass body with an enormous engine, creating a street-legal race car.
Lee recounts purchasing a $250,000 Ferrari Testarossa only to find it lacked a stereo—Enzo Ferrari believed the engine should be the car's sole music. While appreciating the philosophy, Lee installed an aftermarket system anyway. He shares that his first big purchase was a modified 1982 Corvette with a glove box-operated muffler bypass system for instant sound transitions. Both agree that driving high-performance cars instills respect and humility, as at extreme speeds "one tiny error" can be fatal.
Rogan and Lee reflect on how music discovery has radically changed since the 1980s. In Mötley Crüe's era, new releases were cultural events marked by radio debuts and MTV premieres, creating shared public experiences. Today's discovery is shaped by algorithms and streaming platforms, democratizing access but flooding the market and making it harder for artists to stand out. Lee observes that artists must capture attention within seconds because audiences skip tracks instantly if not immediately engaged, changing how music is written and demanding instant impact.
The declining attention spans impact what art gets made and how audiences experience it. Rogan highlights that songs like "Free Bird," with its extended build-up, originally faced skepticism for length but became iconic, proving audiences were once willing to invest time. Today, both labels and audiences seem intolerant of anything that takes time to develop, with swipe culture meaning content must grip within seconds or risk being ignored. Lee compares the abundance of streaming options to an overwhelming buffet where people spend more time scrolling than watching.
With unprecedented content flooding, Rogan and Lee agree only excellent, authentic art can break through. Lee notes that despite the static, exceptional works still resonate powerfully and can go viral. This creates pressure to make content immediately gripping, challenging complex or slow-building work to succeed. Lee references his song "Stupid World" as a critique of the stupidity and chaos in modern society, reflecting on how the abundance of content, short attention spans, and need for instant gratification feed into a cycle of noise and distraction.
1-Page Summary
Tommy Lee describes a deep fascination and commitment to bonsai cultivation, inspired by his frequent visits to Japanese gardens and temples in Kyoto. The profound peace and beauty of these places captivated him so much that, eight years ago, he sought to bring that serenity into his daily life. He discovered bonsai through videos and became thoroughly immersed, dedicating hours each day to the craft. This practice, which Tommy calls the coolest thing he’s ever gotten into, involves tending to his trees each morning, using the process to ground himself and escape the chaos of daily life and his demanding music career.
Bonsai cultivation requires immense technical skill. Tommy manages a workshop filled with projects in various stages—some being bent into shape, others pruned or treated for pests. He explains the discipline of wiring, pruning, and ongoing training of each tree, comparing the process to an art form that demands years of practice and patience. Tommy owns trees over 300 years old and reflects on the generations of care invested in such specimens. He explains that even if a part of a tree was collected 100 years ago, the living organism has been cut back and trained for centuries, connecting him to a larger tradition.
Tommy finds meaning in the underlying Zen garden philosophy that guides his approach. He details how curved paths in Zen gardens are intentionally designed to slow visitors, promoting mindfulness by ensuring nothing is revealed all at once. This philosophy has changed his daily routine, compelling him to slow down, take things in, and be present—a radical departure from the usually frenetic world of a rock star. Bonsai and Zen garden principles have helped Tommy manage the chaos of his career, providing purpose and tranquility.
Tommy Lee’s family reflects a contrast between his own turbulent lifestyle and his son’s pursuit of stability. Tommy expresses immense pride that his son, now 29, is marrying his longtime partner, choosing patience and commitment over the chaos Tommy himself once embraced. He notes the irony and joy in watching his son opt for a conventional, stable life—a picket fence and normalcy—after growing up with a rock star father. Tommy sees this as maturity and feels deeply gratified by his son's choices.
Maintaining balance between touring and family time is crucial for Tommy’s wellbeing. He recounts bringing his sons on tour, giving them roles with the crew so they could spend time together, from managing after-show passes to helping with lighting. He cherishes seeing his sons engage with the touring life, even as they later chose dif ...
Tommy Lee's Personal Philosophy and Lifestyle
Joe Rogan and Tommy Lee discuss the challenges and evolution of the rock music industry, focusing on creative interference by record labels, the shifting economics and accessibility of music since 1980, and the lasting impact of authentic, high-quality music.
Rogan and Lee highlight the persistent issue of record executives—often lacking real musical expertise—interfering with artists’ creative decisions. These executives, solely motivated by financial metrics, frequently offer misguided advice. For example, Tommy Lee recalls how executives told him his songs were too long or demanded drum solos be shortened, relying on statistics about when listeners tune out rather than understanding what makes a song great. Rogan points out that these “money people” only care about maximizing profits, having little regard for artists’ reputations. They treat creativity as a commodity and constantly look for new acts to exploit.
Lee shares how Mötley Crüe maintained creative control while on Elektra Records by barring label representatives from studio sessions. The one time a label exec was allowed in, he began making unwelcome edit suggestions, and the band swiftly dismissed him, insisting he’d only hear the finished product. This stance protected the band’s vision and shielded their music from uninformed interference.
Rogan further describes how executive interference has ruined many music careers. He cites Billy Squier, whose successful run ended abruptly after a single, poorly conceived music video. The video, regarded as one of the worst ever, showed Squier dancing in pastels, wearing a pink tank top, and created a backlash that decimated his popularity. Rogan speculates that the decision for this video may not have been Squier’s own; if it was, at least it was a creative risk, but if it came from an executive, it exemplifies how poor external decisions can derail a career. Squier himself later blamed deception and alteration of his original concept by others, and ticket sales dropped immediately after the video aired.
Discussing the landscape in 1980, Rogan notes how different the music industry was when Mötley Crüe broke out. Lee reminisces about his youth, blowing up musically at age 18, and the chaotic freedom of the pre-internet era—an age where anything seemed possible, and there were few boundaries for rock bands. Fan letters and questions reveal that today’s generation is nostalgic for that era, realizing they may never experience such a raw, unfiltered music scene.
The industry has since shifted dramatically with the arrival of streaming platforms. Lee points out that platforms like Spotify now see 300,000 new songs uploaded each day, making it nearly impossible for even insiders to keep up, much less fans. The overwhelming volume turns the industry into static, drowning out original talent and making everything sound the same. Rogan and Lee both note that this abundance forces artists to grab attention immediately or risk being skipped, drastically altering the way music is created and produced.
Despite changes in technology and industry dy ...
Rock and Roll Career Longevity and Industry Dynamics
Tommy Lee’s approach to drumming exemplifies a relentless combination of athletic endurance, technical innovation, and creative independence. Through physical rigor, elaborate stagecraft, and continuous exploration of sound, he elevates drumming to a discipline that bridges athletic mastery and artistic depth.
Drumming at a professional level requires outstanding cardiovascular stamina. Tommy Lee recounts attaching a pedometer to his shoe during a typical two-hour concert and discovering that he covered 13.3 miles’ worth of motion. This realization underscores the immense calorie burn and physical output involved. The exertion manifests not just in the arms and feet, but also in breathing, coordination, and mental focus. Both Lee and Rogan describe drumming as one of the most athletic activities in music, where maintaining power, speed, and accuracy while coordinating all limbs makes it nearly impossible to be out of shape and still perform at a high level. Lee adds that if a drummer steps away from playing for years, regaining the lost endurance is an arduous process.
Tommy attributes his long-term leanness to the unremitting physicality of playing drums live, often sweating off any excess weight during performances without needing strict dieting. The fitness maintained through drumming alone keeps him at his high school weight.
Tommy Lee is also renowned for bringing spectacle and technical ingenuity to drumming performance. Inspired by seeing people leave for concessions during drum solos at concerts, he resolved to reimagine stagecraft so audiences could viscerally experience the drummer’s energy front and center. Early on, his mechanic father helped him build elaborate drum risers with rigged lighting and pyrotechnics, assembling these contraptions by hand in their backyard.
Lee’s later innovations include the iconic “roller coaster” and gyroscopic drum risers. These immersive platforms spin, invert, and travel throughout entire arenas, allowing him to play drums upside-down and launching him into the crowd’s midst. To make these stunts possible, Lee had to engineer technical modifications: installing springs on pedal footboards and hi-hats to counteract gravity, so equipment functions while inverted. Each nine-minute upside-down performance leaves him breathless and in need of oxygen, yet he repeats and escalates his technical spectacle yearly, constantly pushing the art form’s boundaries to command audience attention and create unforgettable experiences.
Tommy Lee’s musical foundation is entirely self-taught. He began by playing along to his favorite records at home, developing his style organically r ...
Drumming As Athletic and Artistic Mastery
Joe Rogan and Tommy Lee explore the world of luxury automobiles, contrasting the soul and artistry of classic mechanical cars with the digitized sterility of modern electric vehicles. Their discussion moves from the artistry and engineering of supercars like Ferrari to the unique history of American muscle cars, before highlighting the irreplaceable experience of owning and piloting high-performance machines.
Rogan and Lee argue that as automotive technology becomes increasingly digital, enthusiasts and collectors crave the visceral experience only mechanical engines can provide. Rogan notes a dramatic depreciation in value for used electric vehicles—even recent models from Porsche and Audi—contrasted with the soaring prices of classic sports cars like old Porsches. Rogan likens used electric cars to outdated phones, emphasizing that while a ten-year-old Tesla might function well, the public perceives electronics as disposable. In contrast, traditional engine cars, especially models like a 2005 Porsche, only grow more desirable over time.
Both hosts lament Ferrari's foray into electric vehicles. Tommy Lee ridicules the prospect by asking, "Nobody gonna spend four hundred thousand dollars on this electric thing," while Rogan and Lee describe the new Ferrari electric car as "dog shit," "boring," and "like a joke." Rogan likens its uninspired design to a bland iPhone and berates its interior as "cheap dog shit." By comparison, the Ferrari 458 Italia, SF90, and LaFerrari are "works of art," embodying Italian craft with their flowing lines, "gorgeous" styling, and sheer visual impact. Rogan wonders aloud how Ferrari could shift from the stunning 458 to "that electric piece of shit," while Lee jokes it's as if the designers of the iPhone sabotaged Ferrari from within.
The conversation turns to the emotional appeal of Ferrari engines. Rogan describes their sound as "heavenly," "melodic," and infused with "wine and pasta and a fucking windy road"—the auditory romance of Italy, compared to the raw "bark" and power of classic American muscle. Both agree that a Ferrari's engine is more than mechanical; it's an engineering passion made tangible, a form of living artwork.
Manual transmissions and gated shifters—features recently dropped by Ferrari but retained by Porsche—are highlighted as amplifiers of connection and authenticity in the driving experience.
Rogan and Lee praise the 1982 Corvette as one of the few American cars from the era that remains visually striking, describing it as "dope" and still impressive today. In contrast, they deride the 1982 Mustang—part of Ford’s "Fox body" lineup—as “hot dog shit” and “straight horseshit,” criticizing its boxy, uninspired design.
To highlight the design decline, Rogan asks to compare the iconic, muscular 1969 Boss 429 Mustang against the "disgusting" 1982 Mustang, arguing that American car design collapsed in the early 1980s. He facetiously blames this on Nixon-era drug crackdowns, joking that the era’s designers lost their creative flair when they were kept away from mind-altering substances.
The hosts extol the Shelby Cobra as a pinnacle of American car culture: a tiny, lightweight fiberglass body packed with an enormous 427 engine, making it a street-legal race car. Rogan marvels at the Cobra’s rawness—no roof, barely any windshield, minimal safety—and recounts its outrageous performance and constant burnouts. He notes that while original models fetch millions, affordable and faithful recreations now allow enthusiasts to drive this legend and experience its visceral energy.
Car Culture: Luxury Automobiles as Art and Experience
Joe Rogan and Tommy Lee reflect on how discovering and enjoying music has radically changed since the 1980s. In Motley Crüe’s era, a new release was a cultural event, marked by radio debuts and MTV video premieres. Major songs like those from Motley Crüe became known through a shared public experience—if it was on the radio or MTV, fans would immediately know, rush to buy the album, and feel part of something. In contrast, today’s discovery process is shaped by algorithms, streaming platforms, and social media, with anyone able to upload music at any time. While this democratizes access, it also floods the market with content, making it harder for individuals or songs to stand out.
Streaming has dramatically reshaped not just discovery, but listening habits and songwriting itself. As Tommy Lee observes, artists are forced to capture the listener’s attention within seconds because audiences tend to skip within moments if a track doesn’t immediately engage. This “quick skip” culture has changed how music is written and presented, demanding instant impact to avoid being swiped aside.
Radio, once a central pillar of music discovery, has a greatly diminished role. Rogan and Lee discuss songs like Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” or Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird”—pieces that take time to build and reveal themselves. In today’s landscape, these classics might struggle to find an audience, as listeners and record labels now expect immediate hooks and gratification.
The declining attention spans of listeners and viewers impact what sort of art gets made and how audiences experience it. Joe Rogan highlights that songs such as “Free Bird,” with its extended build-up and epic guitar solo, originally faced skepticism from record executives exactly because of their length and unconventional structure. Despite this, “Free Bird” became an iconic anthem, proving that audiences were once willing to invest more time in music—and that record companies underestimated their patience.
Today, however, Lee and Rogan note that both labels and audiences seem intolerant of suspense or anything that takes time to develop. Modern swipe culture means that if content is not gripping within the first few seconds—whether it’s a song, movie, or TV show—audiences move on rapidly. This change doesn’t just influence listeners; it pushes creators to frontload impact or risk being ignored, “dealing with a bunch of six year olds” who demand instant gratification.
This shift expands beyond music, touching other entertainment like film and television. Tommy Lee compares the abundance of streaming options to an overwhelming buffet: with so many choices, people spend more time scrolling than actually watching, and quickly abandon anything that doesn’t immediately capture their attention.
With an unprecedented flood of options for music, film, and TV, Rogan and Lee agree that only excellen ...
Changes in Music Industry and Technology Since 1980
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