Tales Of A RATT Page 7

  I've heard that statement used several times over the years when talking about other events. Hendrix. Morrison. Joplin. Most recently, I heard it used to describe Hurricane Katrina and it's destruction of New Orleans.

  But, for me, that statement will always be best used for the day Lennon was assassinated. I just couldn't imagine music going on without him at the epicenter of it.

  But, I was wrong.

  In the midst of this social and emotional funk, I got the phone call that started everything changing.

  Don Dokken called me and said, "There's this project that Dieter Dierks is putting together with Vic Vergat. They need a rhythm section. You and Tom interested in auditioning for it?”

  I didn't know that much about Vic, but I'd heard a little of his stuff, and it was pretty good. Plus, the guy was recording in Germany with Dieter Dierks! Dierks is a legend of a record producer. He's most famous for being the guy who did all the Scorpions albums, and for working with Accept. The chance to do some recording with that guy at the board was too good to pass up. So, Tom and I went down and auditioned.

  We saw a lot of the usual suspects there. Frankie Banali was waiting in the wings for his turn, as were a number of other LA noticeable. Tom and I did the audition, which went really well.

  I was still really down over the loss of Lennon, so I can't say I had any real good vibes that week, but on December 12, four days after the worst news of my life, I was told that Tom Croucier and myself were the new rhythm section for Vic Vergat.

  We found out we got the gig, and what it paid. A whopping $400 a week. That was less than I had made at the car dealership, but I was on my way to Germany, and was playing music with a platinum producer. Fair trade, say I.

  The problem was, how do we tell Roger that we were quitting Romeo? Roger is a great guy; a great bro. He was at my house for the Super Bowl this last week. So, he's a lifelong friend. When we told him, he took it really hard.

  We had the core group of followers, ten or fifteen chicks who followed the group Romeo, and we agreed to do one last show at the Madam Wong's in Chinatown. When it was over, Roger broke down, as well as our fans. That was a really hard scene for us. It was raining that night, and the whole thing was very sad.

  I had a tough time with it, because on some level, you feel you're letting your friend down. There's a part of you that questions your loyalty in a moment like that.

  However, we had to pack our shit, because it was off to Europe. For me, the music had certainly not died. Not yet.

  I had a really good time playing with Roger Romeo.

  7

  Bomb Shelter Rehearsals

  “If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.” - Pulp Fiction

  Europe, for anyone who has never been, is awe inspiring, and a little overwhelming. It's like John Travolta says in "Pulp Fiction", "It's the little differences. A lotta the same shit we got here, they got there, but there they're a little different.” My first experience in Europe was one big, "Royale With Cheese" moment. Literally.

  I got off the airplane, and went to a McDonald's to get something to eat. I wanted a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and french fries, and I got a Ziffel flunder mit Käse, und Pommes frites. I hope it was the same thing. Who the fuck knows? But, I was able to get a cold beer with my Ziffel flunder. A fucking beer at McDonald's. That would explain the grin on the Hamburgler's face.

  Before we left for Europe, the Vergat management group gave us each $500 to go buy our "rock clothes.” So, I boarded the plane on that trip in a brand new pair of blue suede boots. Eat your heart out, Elvis.

  I proceeded to get totally shit-faced on that flight, not realizing that when I got off, I had to read signs and billboards that were not in English. Not so easy to do when you're hung over. It was a pain to figure out where the hell I was going.

  We lived at the Hotel Trost in Cologne, Germany. Let me say, Cologne is one of the most amazing cities on the planet. Just a stunning, fucking cool, really interesting city. The Cologne Dome was built in the 8th century, and the magnitude of that place, this monolithic structure, is mind-boggling.

  Cologne Dome is a giant, Gothic cathedral. You'd expect either the Pope, or Dracula to come out the front door, depending on what time of day it was. I remember standing there thinking, "How the fuck did they build something like this in the 8th century?” It's insane. Just crazy.

  During World War II, Cologne was leveled by the Allies and their bombs, twice. But, it was pretty obvious that our boys were told, "Do not bomb this thing.” It's that kind of a place. Even war shouldn't touch it.

  The only other place I've ever seen like that is Edinburgh Castle, in Scotland. We played a date there on the Vergat tour. The castle is built on top of a 300' cliff, and seems to be built right into the side of the thing. It's amazing that men could build something like that so long ago. Absolutely awe-inspiring.

  The Trost Hotel was a trippy kind of place, too. It had, like three floors of just bedroom suites, so it was pretty small. Then on the main floor was a bar, a big monolithic -looking oak bar. Real old world German stuff.

  I remember I would always spend time with Mrs. Trost, but I could only talk to her through her son, because she didn't speak English. She was a great lady, really sweet, but would chain smoke like a fucking demon! She'd walk around this room with a halo of smoke above her head all the time. Her teeth, fingers, even her fingernails were a dull yellow, and she smelled like an ashtray. But, she was a really sweet, old world lady.

  During down time, I would hang out with her in her apartment at the hotel. She was an absolute fiend for American movies, especially the older classics. Actually, considering the place, it was probably all she could get.

  So, she would have her old television set on, and we'd watch movies on video tapes with the likes of Gary Cooper, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, or John Wayne, together. It was hysterical, because every one of them had been dubbed into German, so I was watching movies that I had seen many times as a kid; but I couldn't understand a damned thing they were saying. But, watching her light up with that twinkle in her eye and laugh hysterically at Bob Hope movies was genius. It made for a very bonding moment between the Yanks and Krauts.

  Imagine having four or five German beers in you (which is like drinking a case of the watered down American stuff, I swear!), listening to John Wayne saying, "Hallo, kleine Dame. Sie sicher schaut ziemlich heute an," to Maureen O'Hara. All the while, trying to figure out what he said, and if that lame assed line was enough to get in her pants!

  To add to the random enjoyment of hanging out with the Trost matriarch, she had one of the all time greatest laughs. And, the best thing about it, is she would just bust out with it at random moments during whatever movie we were watching. I'm sure something was done or said on screen that she thought funny, but I haven't a clue as to what it could have been.

  Her laugh would start out as the classic, old lady smoker's laugh. It was deep and raspy, but without warning, she would suck in a blast of air and let out with this high, warbling giggle. It sounded like the love child of Celine Dion and Ernest Borgnine on crack! I would laugh my ass off, not at the movie, but at this insane Joker giggle she had!

  When we weren't watching movies together, and her son was nowhere around, I would still try to talk to her. She didn't understand a word of English, so, for some reason I would use my hands a lot more. As if my wild American gesturing would somehow get my point across. After all, everyone understands the sound of English, right? It's the body language they don't get! Right?

  All this would do is make her laugh that wacky laugh of hers, which pleased me to no end. She was a cool woman, that one; despite her occasional, random piece of Nazi memorabilia.

  Her son, Wilhelm, used to hang out with me while I was there. Wilhelm loved to tell Jewish jokes. His eyes used to really light up if he heard a new one. He would laugh really hard. It was bizarre, and pretty fucking creepy, to tell you the truth. It was 1981, so tha
t stuff had happened a long time ago, but it wasn't THAT long ago!

  In school, you'd read about the events and effects of the Holocaust and stuff. So to sit and listen to this otherwise cool dude tell Jewish jokes with such glee...it was like talking autopsies with Dr. Kavorkian. It made for some very strange vibes and moments in that place. We were still old enough that our fathers had been in WWII and shit.

  You would go down the stairs and through a doorway, and that would be the bar and restaurant. Then there was another door in the far wall. You'd go through there, and there was a bowling alley. Not like a real bowling alley, though. At least, not like an American bowling alley. It was Middle Ages sort of shit. They had these little bowling balls, about the size of a cannon ball, that you would throw toward the pins. The alleys were really narrow and small, compared to what we would have at home. You could tell it was really old. Way older than Americans have a mental grasp on.

  Mrs. Trost would show me pictures of SS guys down there hanging out in that bar and shit, you know. So it was really bizarre. I was 21 years old, and in a whole new world.

  We rehearsed in the basement. Well, really the basement's basement. You'd go down these stairs into this really cold, damp, stone-walled room, and that was the basement. But, then they had dug out this other, subterranean thing below that to use as a bomb shelter during the war. So you'd get to this basement, which was really trippy and old, with it's creepy stone walls and shit. Then, they had dug a hole, and there was a track that ran all the way down where they would run supplies when they had to hide in the shelter. There were spigots all the way along the walls, and the place was domed shaped. That's where we rehearsed. We had our PA and gear, and we jammed out in a subterranean bomb shelter beneath a centuries old German bar.

  Bizarre.

  We got to know the guys from the Scorpions really well. They were really tight with Dieter Dierks, and would come by and pick us up to go party. Matthias Jabs and Herman Rarebell would cruise up in their Mercedes, and off we'd go. We'd go out and get loaded, then check out Whitesnake or whoever was playing in Cologne. Or, we'd just go out to the local bars and drink. I'm a good friend with those guys to this day. Cool bunch of dudes. In fact, I have a great story involving Matthias and a flying fish while taking a trip to Catalina on my boat. But, that's later.

  Speaking of driving in Germany, if you've never seen the Autobahn, you've got to check it out! It is an experience unlike anything I've ever had. You hear the phrase "no posted speed limit", but it doesn't really sink in until you are on the thing.

  The label had given us a driver, and this little Citron for him to carry us around in. It's a Swiss car, that can really scoot when you need it to. We would have our driver take us on the Autobahn where we would be going 80 or 90 miles an hour. Just flying along. And, every once in a while, our driver, who had a huge German accent, would go, "Oh, 'ere zay come again!”

  We'd look behind us, and see a Ferrari or a Porsche gaining on us at 180 miles an hour. We were doing 90, and this thing would roar past us like we were standing still. Fucking amazing. Then, just a few minutes later, "Oh, 'ere zay come again!” And another one would appear.

  Amazing place, Germany.

  Band Romeo Greg Mastrogiovanni (guitar), Tom Crucia (bass), Roger Romeo (vocals) and Me, 1981.

  Vic Vergat band, TV show shot in Bremen Germany, 1981.

  1981, The Vic Vergat band.

  Vic Vergat group; Tom Croucier, Vic Vergat, and Me in Basel Switzerland 1981.

  8

  The Curious Case Of A Consummate Hustler

  Around this time, I get a call from Don Dokken.

  First off, let me say that he's a bit neurotic, our Don is. We were like brothers for so long, almost twenty years. I got him out of so many jams, mostly because he was, and still is a pathological “story enhancer.”

  The guy was ALWAYS on the hustle. ALWAYS.

  At any given time, Don had five or six girlfriends who all had money, and were always funding him. He would be juggling them around, but, sooner or later, he'd get busted. It always fell to me when they needed someone to call, crying and upset. I'd wind up spinning them a story to bail Don out of trouble and get them calmed down until the next time it happened. Just say that Don has some pretty serious baggage floating through his gene pool.

  He calls me, and is like, "Dude, I swear to God I'm about to fucking lose it! I'm gonna have a nervous breakdown. I gotta make it. I gotta make it right now. Fucking, you and Tom are over there. I got you that gig. You know, Vic Vergat, fucking going on tour with Nazareth. I'm sitting over here fucking dying.” He didn't have a band put together at the time.

  I'm like, "Don, why don't we do this. Let me talk to Dieter Dierks (who Don introduced us to) and see if he'll let you come over here and record your demo. Tom and me will play on it. See if you can get a deal over here.”

  So, I did. I set the thing up with Dieter. Don scrounged the money up to come over, but he had absolutely NO money while he was here. He slept in my bed, in my little hotel room in the Hotel Trost. I remember that I drew a "Line of Death" down the center of the bed with pillows. I said, "Don, if you cross this line in the middle of the night, you fucking die. I swear to God! Don't even poke your FINGER at me.”

  His first night there, I made him put his socks outside the window because he'd been wearing them forever, and they smelled like a demon's crotch! Not that I've ever smelled a demon's crotch. It’s a point of reference.

  Don is a strange guy. As I said, he had these weird habits, like the “story enhancing.” He'd tell stories to people, and I'd know they were total bullshit. I'd know, because I had been there to witness whatever story he was elaborating on. Then he would look at me and say shit like, "Isn't that right, Blotz?” And, I'd be going, "No, dude. Not really.”

  But, for all his bullshit, Don and I were bros, even though he fired me from Airborn. We used to always be able to talk about our careers and that incessant journey to "make it.” I had my bands, and he had his bands. We were just two guys trying to grab the brass ring. Neither of us were going to give in, and that sort of made us brothers-in-arms.

  I've had a lot of really good times with Don. Lots of good memories, just none coming to mind at the moment.

  He was a really good mechanic, and would always help me out with my cars.

  So, Tom and I wound up going in and rehearsing with him. We had stopped rehearsing in the bomb shelter, and had moved to this theater where all the seats had been removed. We would work on the stage show with Vic, and then rehearse the stuff we were working on with Don, right after.

  We cut 3 songs. "Stick to Your Guns," "Paris is Burning," and some other song, I forget. Something Young. Young something. "Young Girls," I think it was. They were all on the "Breaking the Chains" album.

  Tom and I wrote on some of this stuff. "Paris is Burning" was one of George Lynch's songs. He was in a band called The Boys, and it was one of his songs. Don and I used to play gigs with them when we were in Airborn together. We used to always jam this song of theirs called "Paris is Burning" at Airborn rehearsals, because it was a cool song. Don said he had acquired it from George; bought it or something. So we worked it up, and I wrote the last lyrics in the song. Tom did some writing on it as well. We put everything together. We worked our ass off on all this tape we did with him. It was so good, that the songs went onto the Breaking the Chains album untouched.

  Michael Wagner is the famous German engineer who has produced Warrant, Skid Row, the White Lion records, on and on. The guy has skins on the wall. He engineered the work, and this demo with Dokken was fantastic. Absolutely kick ass work. Don took the demo, telling Tom and I, "Look, if anything happens, you guys are getting half the publishing on these songs.” It wasn't a big deal. We felt we were just repaying the favor. You know? He put our names in the hat, and we got the gig and were off on a major arena tour. So, it's the least we could do for a bro.

  So, Don goes down to Hamburg and he comes back with a briefcase f
ull of money! And, we're like, "What?!?” He got his deal, you know? Then, he gives Tom and me a hundred bucks each. That was it. We never got any writing credit. No publishing. Those songs went on the Breaking the Chains record just as we had recorded them. We were uncredited, and by then he had gotten George Lynch, Mick Brown and Juan Croucier in the band.

  Typical Don.

  9

  "Yodel-Ay-Eee-Yodel-Ay-Eee-Yodel-Ay-Eee Oooo”

  "Mary had a little sheep; With the sheep she went to sleep; The sheep turned out to be a ram; and Mary had a little lamb." - Steven Tyler

  After being in Cologne for two months, we boarded a train at the Cologne Station, heading for Switzerland for the beginning of the tour.

  While we were over there, Tom and I were in a hotel in Basil, Switzerland. We had just gone out on tour. We were listening to some Beatles stuff, and playing backgammon with the television on and the sound down. I happened to glance over and catch a map of the US with a big red spike stuck right in Washington DC. I was like, "What the fuck?" I turned the sound up.

  That was when we heard about President Reagan being shot. They showed the footage over and over. It was a very strange, disturbing feeling to be in a foreign country when someone tries to murder the President. Then, not long after that, some wackjob tried to kill the Pope. First Lennon, then Reagan, and then the Pope. It was a weird, disjointed time.

  Most of the holidays are the same, with a few exceptions. April Fool's Day is NOT one of those exceptions.

  While we were still in the hotel in Basil, I had this fax sent to me, and faxes were new then. I had never heard of a fax.

  "What the fuck is this? A fax? Okay…”