Isn’t it funny how American parents ruin the lives of their children?
THIS was all I ever wanted to be when I was in high school. I figured that only losers wore ties-and I still do.
I had long hair (until my mom made me get it cut-but I’d just grow it again), I played rhythm guitar, sang lead, and grew up and still lived in Los Angeles. I wanted to look just like Blackie Lawless; fringed boots, leather pants, hair down to the middle of my back, and the speeding tickets to match-in my new Chevrolet Corvette.
KNAC was the radio station of the entire heavy metal universe and my best friend and I would practice late into the night until we hit the streets with our friends so that we could find a good time-which mainly consisted of playing video games at the liquor store (past legal curfew, of course). We would then go back to his mom’s house around one in the morning and compose lyrics-with bands like Kiss, W.A.S.P., Judas Priest, and Iron Maiden playing the background.
By the way, I never told my mother where the hell I was. I figured I could always call her collect if anything went wrong-which nothing ever did.
Back when we formed the band in 1985, I told him about some ideas for the stage show; that we would be set ablaze by lightning strike and that I would literally fly over 100 feet in the air above the audience via mechanical wings. Sure, Gene Simmons of Kiss spewed fire and Mick Mars of Motley Crue had his legs set ablaze, but I wanted to outdo both of them.
I wanted to set ablaze by lightning strike. The only band to beat that would be GWAR (God What An Awful Racket).
As you can tell, we never got a record deal. The lead guitarist still plays, as do I. He’s a family man now, and I would like to be one day. The funny thing is that I’m actually surprised that I have lived this long, as I wanted to live a life of excess insanity to match the intense depression I felt in those days.
Whether or not we would have made it would have been anyone’s guess. We had the same odds as any the other jackballs in Los Angeles, California. I still have the pipes to belt out any note I wish from my lungs and my axe skills have improved (ya think?) since those days, but this is all I ever wanted to be. And if you ask if we did drugs, I’m afraid I’ll just have to challenge you to a duel.
Your pistol, of course, will be empty-much to your surprise, because people have asked me that stupid question since the 1980s-and I don’t put up with it anymore.
I guess I’ll have to find another way get that fistful of diamonds-make that two fistfulls of diamonds!