Tales Of A RATT Page 14

  There were guys out there who were using every means of shock they could to sell their records, and then going up there and claiming it was a first amendment right. It's pathetic. They were covering for their lack of talent by being a sideshow attraction.

  "Hey! It's Blackie Lawless, the Bearded Lady of Heavy Metal!”

  I knew the dudes who were going in front of Congress and testifying. Some of them were great, like Dio and Alice Cooper. Some of them, not so much.

  Of the big three, John Denver, Frank Zappa and Dee Snyder, I think Zappa and Denver made the biggest impact. I could have done without Snyder, with his vampire teeth, representing me as a rocker and an artist. But, a lot of people really dug what he had to say.

  Zappa? It's not like he's going up there all buffooned out.

  Zappa was genius when it came time to fight the PMRC. Nobody could hold an argument with Frank Zappa. It's impossible.

  Rock N Roll has always been pigeonholed, poked and prodded at. If that were me, I wouldn't have been nearly as worried about Prince's "Darling Nikki" and her magazine masturbation. I would have been more concerned with "The Exorcist" and Linda Blair as a little girl masturbating with a crucifix! Yelling out the words "Let Jesus Fuck You", and shit like that.

  That would seem more damaging, and it happened fifteen years earlier!

  Then again, people are entitled to their view, even though some of that lyrical content was completely ridiculous. Some of that needs to be regulated, I guess. You can't have a twelve-year-old girl reading lyrics from WASP, talking about how Lawless likes to fuck chicks in coffins. That's improper. There's some accountability to be had with that. But, no one likes to be told what to do. Certainly, not me!

  For some acts, they were desperately trying to get on that bandwagon. No one would have paid them any attention, otherwise.

  Personally, I think Tipper and her brood just needed to be laid one time...REALLY WELL. Then all that shit would have fell to the wayside.

  RATT's Dancing Undercover record 1986-87 billboard on Sunset Blvd.

  Look at gas prices!!!

  Tommy Lee, Me and Nikki Sixx on the set of Back For More shoot. They beat the shit out of me in the video, and I mean REALLY punched the shit out of me, fuckers, 1984.

  On the set of Wanted Man. Jeni on the left. June 1984.

  Photo shoot 1985 with a hot blonde model. Photo Courtesy Mark Weiss.

  Osaka Japan, 1984.

  Tommy and Me, playing a little Poker. Photo courtesy of Neil Zlozower.

  17

  The Need For Speed

  I got invited to race for Dodge in the Celebrity Circuit in 1987. They flew me out to Mid-Ohio Race Track to Skip Barber Racing School. The Circuit was sponsored by MADD. It was a program called "Think before you drink or use drugs and drive.” So, I went up there and took the driving school course and was issued an IMSA racing license. Then our first race was out there at the Mid-Ohio Race Track.

  That first race had Ted Nugent, me, Craig Chaquico from Starship, one of the guys from .38 Special, there were so many people in that field. I had the pole position for that race. I've always loved to race, and I've always been really good at it. I'm a really good driver. I've raced off-road, and with dirt bikes; I know how to hit my apexes and such; and I have very little fear. So I was really good.

  We did the race, and I fucked up. I was looking at the wrong tower coming up to get the green flag. Ted Nugent was fucking with me pretty strong while we were following the pace car. Ted is an out of control nut! He really is a crazy kind of dude. Fun loving as hell, and about three degrees left of center, if you get my drift.

  Anyway, Ted guns it, and I'm thinking, "What's he doing? We haven't gotten the green flag yet?” That's when I see all these other cars coming up. I looked in my rearview and went, "Oh shit…”

  I saw the flag guy in the opposite tower. "FUCK!”

  So, I stand on it, trying to catch up to Ted. I tried that whole race, man. I was right on Ted's ass the whole time, but I could never overtake him. I finished second.

  My next race, I had the pole position again. This time, it was in Indianapolis, and Lorenzo Lamas beat me on that one.

  But, on my final race, down in Del Mar, California, on my 30th birthday, I finally won. These races were all warm-ups for actual Grand-Prix races; big time GTP cars. I won the very last one, which meant they gifted me with any Dodge car I wanted.

  I asked them if I could let my sister pick out a car for her, instead. They agreed, and so I was able to get Carol a brand new van.

  That last race was really cool. They gave me this big two-story suite, right on the San Diego Bay. There was a big party with a birthday cake, the whole nine yards. Great time.

  On that last race, I had gotten Vince, Tommy and Don Dokken into the Circuit as well. On the final race, they pick the best of all the previous races to pit against each other. All of the first and second place finishers were in this race.

  Again, I had the pole, and Vince was right behind me. He kept trying to get in on me while we were following the pace car. So I kept running him off the side. He was getting really pissed! I couldn't hear him yelling, or anything, but I could see his eyes whipping around in his helmet.

  I kept flipping him off, and shit, screaming, "Fuck you, dude!” He couldn't hear me, of course, but I didn't care. "After the race, Neil! I'm kicking your ass!” It was good times.

  At one point in the race, I spun him out, which really flipped him. He was yelling and banging on his steering wheel. It was worth a good chuckle on my part.

  Don Dokken crashed his car on that race. So did Stephen Pearcy. Tommy was trying to keep up and Ted Nugent kept bumping me and shit. But, I held the line. Wound up winning the race. I loved running that circuit. Racing was a rush.

  They were asking me to race with them on a team race called Scout Racing. It's where you and your team rotate drivers. One of you races for three hours, then someone else, then another, finally you all take another turn. This goes on for 24 hours.

  But, I couldn't do it.

  We were on tour, and there just wasn't enough time. It just never happened. I wish it would have, though, because the adrenaline factor is amazing.

  I've got a picture from that last race, where Tommy and I are sitting side by side with Stephen and Vince. I laugh about that picture when I talk to Tommy, because it was just a few days before that Jeni and I were at his and Heather's house partying.

  It was the night that Tommy and I were talking about how much we hated our singers…then Tommy fell out in the floor.

  Yet, there we were, days later, laughing it up with those two guys at a Celebrity Grand-Prix race. Go figure.

  There are so many weird assed stories when you're a celebrity. Chuck was always working over at my house. I was doing a lot of remodeling. We bought that house, and I put like $250K into remodeling it. From the curb to the end of the property in the back, anything that could be changed or upgraded, I did. There was new tile, flooring, everything. Even the public walkway in front of the house was new. It had buckled up and cracked and looked like shit. So, I had it all torn out, and relaid so it looked nice and level. Then from where my front walkway started, all the way to the house, everything was brick and tile. I even put in a Koi pond, a pool, a Jacuzzi, and like 40 palm trees.

  Of course, I didn't do all this by myself, so Chuck was always working there.

  I had to keep changing my phone number, because people would get it and start calling all the time. I had just changed to a new one, barely a month before. But, I started getting this call. Same guy, every time. Just talking shit. Taunting me. "RATT sucks!” Stupid shit like that. Literally anything you could think of to get a rise out of me.

  I remember saying, "Look, fucker, if I ever find out who you are, I'm fucking you up so bad!”

  "Oh, you are, huh? Fuck you, dude! Come on over right now and do it!” But, of course, he wouldn't say where he was. So it was a bunch of juvenile, high school bullshit. I'd get the
call a couple of times a day, going back and forth talking about the band and the musicians, my wife, all kinds of shit. So, as this went on, I would try to keep him on longer and longer, trying to recognize the voice. I'd just keep him talking.

  Then one of the times, I had been trying to figure out where he could have gotten the number. Who could have gotten access to this number? It was so quick after I had it changed. Then it hits me. This vision of me driving through one of those one-hour photo labs places. The kind where you drive up to a window and drop your shit off then come back later and pick it up again.

  This memory pops into my head and I bust out with, "Are you that fucking little dude? That little prick at the Photo Mat, down there by Ralph's?”

  And, while he had been all talking big and shit, he suddenly stopped in mid-sentence. Busted. I could tell by the quiet that I had got it right.

  I go, "You motherfucker! Dude, I'll be down there tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow.” CLICK. And I hung up.

  I went down there the next morning. I pulled up and jumped out of my car, and the guy inside immediately started in with, "It wasn't me! It wasn't me!” He's shaking his hands and shit.

  I'm like, "Open that window!”

  "It wasn't me, man. It was (this other guy who worked there).” The guy was really scared.

  "Oh, really? When's he coming in?”

  The clerk goes, "I told him not to do it, man. I recognized your name when you came through, and I told him not to do it. But, he took your number off the bag.” Anyway, the guy told me when he came in again.

  The next day, Chuck and I went down there together. Man, this jack-off was in tears. I mean, Chuck has some huge guns. He's a good-looking guy, around 6'2", but just looking at him, you don't want to fuck around with Chuck. So, this dude was shitting his pants. We didn't harm him, but we did get with the guy's manager.

  Call it a "civil dismemberment with minimal bloodshed."

  In 1985, we were offered a slot on the "Top Gun Soundtrack.” It was easy money, but Warren didn't want to do it. He thought it would alienate our fans; make us look like we sold out. That record went on to be the highest selling soundtrack album ever. Its sold somewhere around twelve million records, and it's still selling!

  When we brought it up to him, he'd be like, "The Stones wouldn't do…”

  "Warren, we're not the Stones!” We probably lost two million bucks in income for passing on that deal.

  To make it worse, we wouldn't have had to work on it. We were going to use a song that was already recorded; demoed for the "Out of the Cellar" album when we were taking Beau Hill for a test drive. It was called "Reach For The Sky", hadn't made the cut for the Cellar album, but was perfect for "Top Gun.” We weren't going to have to record for it. The song was already in the can! He convinced the band not to do it, and every one of us had resentment toward him because of that. It was a bad move and a dumb-ass decision!

  A couple of years later, we were offered "Iron Eagle" with Lou Gossett Jr. We turned that down as well.

  Finally, we were offered Eddie Murphy's "The Golden Child.” That was in 1987. And, it was pretty cool. "Body Talk" was in the movie during the scene where he was fighting the bikers. They gave us $150,000 for the song, and paid for the video. At that time, we were spending $200,000 a video, so to me, that song made us $350,000. And, we were in the Eddie Murphy movie! It wasn't his biggest commercial success, but it put us out there in association with Eddie Murphy. At the time, that was a very cool thing for the band.

  I've always had this work need, or want. For Christ sake, it's not ditch digging. It's not that hard. It's hard being away from the family. It's hard getting up and moving every day. But, we're musicians, and we're making music. All I want to do is golf during the day, and rock out at night. That's my tour ritual. If it's the right season, I'm on a golf course.

  There are so many shows that stick out to me. But, when we went over to England and toured with the Monsters of Rock show, I remember we played at Castle Donnington in 1985.

  Ozzy was headlining. Metallica, RATT, Accept, and a bunch of other bands were on the card as well. There were about 125,000 people there, and somebody threw the head of a pig on stage while we were playing. THAT was goddamned disgusting! Then I was told that somebody threw the pig's pussy onstage during Ozzy's show, and Ozzy ate it out. I don't know if there was any truth to that or not, but if it is, it makes for a pretty funny, repulsive rockstar moment.

  Given the grand scheme of things I've seen and heard Ozzy Osbourne do ... let's just say that scenario isn't beyond the realm of possibilities.

  We toured with Deep Purple over there in 1987, again on the Monsters of Rock bill. That was amazing. 150,000 people a day at these shows, making for absolutely killer dates.

  Being a major Deep Purple fanatic, I was especially pumped. After all, Ian Paice is the reason my drumming style is what it is. He and Joey Kramer from Aerosmith, as well as John Bonham from Led Zeppelin. Those three guys combine to formulate my style as a drummer.

  But, hands down, my worst moment as a drummer was in Cleveland in 1987. If you read the introduction to this book, you already know the story.

  We always started our show on that tour with me standing on my drum throne with this big wash of mood lighting and shit behind me. It made for a nice silhouette thing for the crowd, but for me, it was pretty dark. It's a wonder I didn't kill myself on that throne a lot earlier.

  I would be standing up, with the devil horns held high, then I would hop down and do a "four count" on the hi-hats to start things off, and BOOM, we explode into the first song of the night.

  My family was in town for that show, so I really wanted it to be great. I hopped down to do the hi-hats thing, and my foot caught on the leg of my drum throne, turning my ankle onto it's side, and sending my foot into an angle it was never meant to bend.

  It completely destroyed my ankle. The thing was the size of a grapefruit in a matter of second, and I had to play an entire show with this thing! I had my drum tech getting me glass after glass of Jack, and I couldn't get it in my gut fast enough. I was doing anything I could to numb the pain. Let me tell you, that pain was the worst I've ever felt. Mountainous, monstrous pain!

  The tour had just started, really, and by luck, we had four days off in a row. That's something that NEVER happens on the road. Because, any idle day just bleeds money in production costs; especially on arena tours, where you have five semis, four tour busses, and fifty people on the payroll to go along with that. So, for us to have four days off was bad for the tour, but helpful to me.

  I spent the whole time with my foot immersed in ice water. Then I had to play for about a month with my left foot as my lead bass drum foot. The hi-hat was another story. For those of you who don't know what a hi-hat is, it's the two crash cymbals that are mounted on a stand, one on top of the other and are clashed together using a pedal. It usually sits to the left of the drummer, and it requires the use of your left foot.

  In my case, that wasn't an option.

  I had to adjust the thing to where it barely had a gap. Just enough to give it some sizzle, but there was no real hi-hat play. No cutoffs, nothing like that. That was painful as fuck! The shows got pretty blurry after a while, because I had to get loaded beyond belief to just get through it.

  Anyone who has ever experienced a severe injury to an ankle, or wrist, or finger, will tell you the same thing. That lightning flash of a burn is followed by complete shock at what just happened. Then it's on! The pain is ruthless! Couple that with being on stage in front of 15,000 people who paid good money to see you that night? Fucking horrifying.

  Absolutely scary beyond anything I've ever experienced, because I knew it was bad. Just the jolt that went through my body when it happened.

  "Oh, my God. I'm in trouble.” I'll never forget that.

  It got to the point that I would go out on stage with my crutches so the crowd could see, "Okay, he's fucked up. So if this sucks, it's not his fault.”


  You just feel such a responsibility on an arena tour. The pressure is unbelievable, and to have an accident that could jeopardize the whole thing??? That busted ankle could have cost 100 or more people their jobs!

  Then there was the time that I put out a hotel fire in upstate New York. That was pretty exciting.

  What was weird, was that I had been watching "The Towering Inferno" at the hotel in New York City, the night before! If you remember that flick, it was about a huge fire in a skyscraper, and everyone trying to find a way out. It was a classic 70's disaster flick with Steve McQueen. I'm a sucker for movies, especially old flicks that I hadn't seen in years. So, I'm just laying around, after our show at Madison Square Garden, grooving to this old movie.

  The next day, I drive up to upstate New York for our next show. I get to the hotel, and get settled in, just in time to go to the arena for sound check. I'm cruising down the hall of this hotel, and I smell smoke! And, sure enough, there's smoke all in the hallway!

  No way! So I'm calling on all of my fire and rescue training that I'd gotten from Steve McQueen. I'm feeling doors, and shit, trying to find the blaze. And, I actually find the room that's on fire!

  Smoke was pouring out from under the door. I'm beating on the thing, and there's no answer. So, I do my best Hollywood Action Star move and kick the door in. The carpet was totally engulfed in fire! I took towels from the bathroom, threw them in the tub and wet them, and was smothering the thing.

  Then I called the front desk and told them their hotel was almost burned down. The whole thing made MTV news and all that. I guess, because I told everyone on the tour about it, that it made it's way back to management. They thought it would be a good idea to publicize the whole thing.

  So, for about 15 seconds, I was a hero on MTV. Of course, for 10 years, I was a rockstar on MTV. Take your pick, because they were both pretty cool.