My Appetite for Destruction Read online

  A friend of mine, Cletus, had married Monica in order for her to get a green card. He was the drummer for a local band that played a few shows with us. Cletus and Monica, however, didn’t actually have a real relationship. So he had no problem introducing me to her. There was an undeniable instant attraction between us. The very next day, I moved in with them. I slept in the bedroom with Monica, and Cletus had the couch in the living room. After about a month, it was as if Cletus was the one living with us. Monica and I would be camped out in the bedroom day and night.

  Cletus and I would always play our latest demos for each other. He’d be like, “Listen to this,” and I’d say, “Oh yeah? Well listen to this, fucker.” We’d always find a way to challenge our arrangements, sharpen up the percussion, and it helped both of us. I’d go back in the studio and attack a tune we had been working on with a fresh fervor. I’d look up and the expression on Duff’s face said it all. He was pleased. He knew I was working it. Duff and I were the keystone; we were the rock that rolled. We were to become the rhythm section for the biggest rock band in the world, and we pushed each other day and night to get there.

  HELLO, OLD FRIEND

  Meanwhile, Izzy had a new place behind Grauman’s Chinese Theater in the heart of Hollywood. One afternoon, I popped by and walked in on him and Slash in the kitchen, where they were sitting down. Izzy had his eyes closed and his head back. Slash had a needle stuck in his arm.

  My eyes bugged. “What the hell are you guys doing? That’s sick!”

  “Dude, it’s dope,” Slash said.

  I looked at the needle they were using, and it made me ill. I hated the sight of needles. So I laughed to cover up my fear and just blurted out, “My grandma’s got a whole box of those things.” Big Lilly was a diabetic, and she always had syringes on hand.

  Suddenly Izzy came to life. “What? Go get them. Go get them now!”

  I shot over to Grandma’s and came back with a handful of fresh needles for them to use. I swear, the look of those things going in their arms grossed me out so much, there was no way I was going to do that. Having forgotten my earlier ordeal at Bob Welch’s house, Izzy set me up with some foil, popped a piece on it, and cooked it up. When the smoke curled off the smack, I smoked it.

  Again I got so damn sick. I puked in their toilet for a half hour. As I gargled half a tube of toothpaste from the counter, I realized that although I wanted to hang out with my bandmates, this shit was definitely not worth the hell it put me through.

  NAME YER POISON

  Izzy and Slash could really handle dope though. Izzy was just so mellow and cool all the time, you never knew if he was on anything. And when Slash was on the shit, people just thought he was drunk. Duff didn’t have a taste for the “brown,” but he was a serious drinker and was always half-crocked. Weed was my thing. Of all of us, Axl seemed to be the most straitlaced. He’d drink and smoke, but I never saw him get out of control with any hard drugs.

  Now, we all had a taste for coke, like at a party or something, but we always held it together. At that time, we never flaked on band-related events. The band was our responsibility, but we never talked about it as such because we were having too much fun. It was just understood that you didn’t let your partying get in the way of what the band was about. You didn’t let the band down.

  GNR GETS NOTICED

  The band’s reputation as a standout kick-ass act became more widespread; word of mouth exploded and our popularity soared. We recorded some demos and handed them out to as many industry people as possible. KNAC, the popular L.A. hard rock/metal format, was the first radio station to play us. They had a show on Sundays that started at ten p.m. where they gave local bands exposure, and they played “Welcome to the Jungle” from the demo cassette. Slash and I were on our way to the Rainbow when we heard it on the radio. There is absolutely no way to explain the thrill of that experience. Hearing your song on the radio is one of those moments that gets seared on your soul. Slash just kind of chuckled while I went ballistic: “Yeah. Dude, that’s us!”

  As for the business end, it always seemed to take care of itself. Slash and I would hand out flyers day and night. We’d walk from the Hell House to the Strip, each taking one side of the street, and wallpaper that entire stretch with flyers. They were everywhere.

  There was a print shop across from the Guitar Center where we would have them run off. Marc Canter and this Asian dude, Jack Lue, would take the photographs. Then Slash would take his artwork and create a flyer. Our stripper friends gave us money to have them made. Everything just seemed to take care of itself. We always had advertisements for our shows running in the free local L.A. club scene magazine Bam.

  I had been reading Bam from cover to cover for years, but I never got over the thrill of seeing our picture in there. We were now delivering big crowds to our shows, and the local clubs knew they could count on us. I knew we were well on our way, and sure enough, in 1986, a seasoned pro who saw something in us offered to take us to the next level. We eagerly accepted her help.

  THE VICKI ERA

  Vicki Hamilton was a familiar face who was always on the lookout for new talent. It was no secret that we were becoming a major draw on the Strip, and Vicki was determined to capitalize on our popularity. Over the course of a couple weeks, she approached each one of us, either before or after our shows. She took the time to answer our questions and impressed us with the fact that she knew the business inside out and had no ego. I took an instant liking to her. She looked you right in the eye and didn’t brag, blow smoke, or over-promise. She basically said her actions would do the talking and told us she had already booked us a show.

  This was the first time that we didn’t have to book a gig on our own. The general attitude among the guys was very simple and straightforward: as long as Vicki was helping us, hustling up something good for the band, she was a part of us. She continued booking shows for us and even gave us money from time to time. Vicki was from Indiana, so she, Axl, and Izzy kind of bonded. She had earned her stripes working with Mötley Crüe, Stryper, and Poison. I would have to say that out of all the guys, I was the most vocal about the fact that I was impressed with her. The other guys always played it closer to the chest with their thoughts and feelings. I appreciated the jump start she was giving our career. She really believed in us, and just that helped tremendously. I have to say that looking back, if it wasn’t for her, who knows?

  I have no idea why, but the five of us just up and moved into Vicki’s one-bedroom apartment (we were broke, but I don’t think that was the only reason). She shared it with another girl, Jennifer Perry, who became an industry person too, later working with Ozzy Osbourne. The girls took the bedroom, and we crammed into the living room with all our equipment. We had free rein in the place, and we would have chicks over and party all night. The phone rang nonstop, and there was something going on there 24/7. The apartment was in a small two-story building, and if I needed some privacy, I would just head up the fire escape to the top landing. Now, if that rooftop could talk . . .

  BUSH BABY

  I remember I had this one girl up there who I had just met. She was a friend of a friend and had a nice hard body. We were getting it on, but when she lifted her top, I saw thick patches of underarm hair. Hell, you could have braided it and rappelled down the outside wall. I just cracked up, it was so funny. She was like this militant artsy chick who didn’t go for all that shaving-everywhere nonsense. My God, she had the biggest bush. It was like being in the Congo. I needed a machete. She was great.

  Whether at her apartment or at the clubs, Vicki worked her ass off for us. The first representative of a record company she brought in to see us was someone from Elektra Records. It didn’t go well because we insisted on maintaining total artistic control over our music, and that was just unheard of at the time. But regardless, after word got out that Elektra had sat down with us, all the record companies became interested. Vicki set up the meetings with the record people and she would screen eac
h one of them, knowing what we wanted. If she felt that a label was genuinely promising, then she would have us meet them.

  AYATOLLAH AXL

  She handled our press and got us a cover with a magazine called Music Connection. This was a widely circulated local music publication based in L.A. The interview was held at Vicki’s place, and to show you how highly we thought of her, we insisted she be an integral part of it.

  Izzy was so drunk, he kept interrupting everyone. Well, we all had been partying, maybe to try to calm our nerves about the interview. So we were all jumping in, just impulsively blurting out whatever came to mind. I remember that at one point, when we were talking about the way we created our songs, Axl said something like “I just want control over fucking everything.”

  So Slash jokingly compared him to Ayatollah Khomeini, who was not exactly a beloved figure in America. Axl got a little pissy over that. Then we all got pissy over the fact that the interviewer kind of jumped on the “total control” comment to see if he could get us arguing among ourselves. I guess the way Axl spoke, it could have been interpreted as he alone wanted total control and was not speaking on behalf of the band. Then we all kind of ganged up on this guy, because that’s the way we were back then. You took on one of us, you better be prepared to take us all on. The next thing that happened was epic: Izzy shouted, “Fuck you and your magazine.” You know what? They printed it. The writer ended his article by saying, “Well, fuck you and your band.” That was great.

  When we got the magazine about two weeks later, I was a little disappointed with the cover; I hated that picture, but we had no say over what photo they would run or copy they would print. I remember Axl was pissed because they spelled his name wrong: Axel.

  There was a positive, and that was that the Music Connection thing generated even more word of mouth. Our shows were now selling out regularly and people who couldn’t get in would just mill around outside. They sensed they were near something unique, something big. Vicki coming into our life had definitely moved us closer to our dream. Man, could she work the phones. She was very tough, a hard-ass at getting things our way. One time I heard her mention that she fancied herself a “white witch.” Maybe she had read about Aleister Crowley, Robert Johnson, or Jimmy Page and actually dabbled in some kind of dark magic.

  One night she introduced us to Tom Zutaut and Theresa Ensenat of Geffen Records. We could sense these people were the big guns by the way they conducted themselves. They took us to dinner. I think it was at Wolfgang Puck’s on Sunset. It was very unusual for all of us to be in agreement but somehow this pair won over the entire band. After we were guaranteed absolute and complete creative control over our music and image, we knew that this was the way to go.

  Tom was a very cool guy. He was all about giving us major freedom. It wasn’t like “We’ll only change this” or “Do it like this and you’re in.” That’s why we liked him. Other labels pretended to go along with us but always tried to tack on some bullshit clause at the end. They wanted to control us and just make us some puppet band.

  So we kind of knew we were going to go with Geffen early on, but—and this shows our playful mind-set at the time—there were still a few labels that hadn’t taken us out to dinner yet. So we told Tom we needed a little time to think about it.

  It might seem silly, but when you’re flat broke all the time, getting free drinks is a big deal. We’d be at the table in a fancy restaurant and someone would yell for the waitress: “Cocktails.” Then everyone would yell, “Cocktails!” Duff liked screwdrivers, Axl would get some fruity mixed drink, Slash liked vodka cranberries, and Izzy was strictly a wino. I liked Jägermeister, but I also liked beer or Jack and Coke, anything that would get you buzzed and tasted good.

  COCKS AND SNACKTAILS!

  At one of the dinners with a record rep, we went to new lows. We were beyond drunk, joking around about who was getting the most head and some other lewd and rude topics. Evidently things got completely out of control, to the point that they wanted to boot us out of the place. I remember the singer from Chicago, Peter Cetera, was having dinner next to us, and he just stopped eating, looking completely disgusted. Somebody shouted our traditional demand for cocktails but it came out wrong: “Cocks and snacktails.” We all burst out laughing. Then we compared cock sizes.

  Eventually we got all the labels to wine and dine us: Sony, Elektra, and Warner. At one point, Megaforce was interested, and Rick Rubin wanted us too, but our minds were made up. We were just jerking these other record companies off in order to run up massive bar tabs.

  Chapter 10

  Getting It All Down

  THE BIG DAY

  On the night of March 24, 1986, Tom Zutaut came over to Vicki’s to have a meeting with us. It was a beautiful evening, so we headed up to the roof. Tom went over his offer again, breaking every detail down for us, as simply (for our muddled minds) and clearly as possible. We pretended to give it some thought although we had already made our decision. We let Vicki give him the news that we would sign with Geffen the following day.

  I usually woke up early, and the day we signed was no different. I was bouncing off the walls while the other guys were just waking up. They were much cooler about it. “Stevie, relax, calm down,” they said. Oh yeah, how silly of me. I shot back: “We’re only about to make our dreams come true.” I guess I was always the kid in the band.

  It was a sunny day, and everyone was together walking toward the Geffen building except Axl, who was nowhere to be found. We looked for him for over an hour and finally someone, probably Vicki, spotted Axl. He was on the roof of the Whisky! He was sitting in the lotus position, as if he was meditating. Classic Axl: “Look at me, look at me, watch me be different, watch me bust your balls by making us all late for the biggest moment in our lives.”

  Some photographer was walking with us as we made our way to the Geffen building, snapping away as we walked inside. We entered the main door, passed the secretary, who apparently was expecting us, and walked right up to Tom’s floor. Tom and Theresa were there and on the desk in front of them the papers were already neatly laid out. We each had like ten things to sign. Vicki had a lawyer look over everything beforehand, so we had no worries. I had been waiting for this day all my life. We signed the papers and we each got an advance of $7,500. We went out and got drinks, had dinner, then everybody went five different ways and did their own thing, armed, for the first time, with more than a couple of bucks in our jeans.

  Later we went to Guitar Center and bought equipment. We were offered wholesale deals on everything. I could have bought a bitchin’ new set of drums for $1,200 bucks but I didn’t really care to. After years of barely scratching by, I just couldn’t shift gears like that and start blowing money. Besides, I had my own drum set and I was happy with it. I just added one more crash, the only piece of equipment I bought with my advance. Oh yeah, and I also bought a big bag of high-grade bud, then shoved the rest of my advance in my jeans.

  YOU CORK SOAKER!

  Just after we got signed, we booked a show at Gazzarri’s as the Fargin’ Bastarges. We got that name from the movie Johnny Dangerously starring Michael Keaton. The bad guys in the movie always talked like that, mangling expressions: “You friggin’ ice-holes. You fargin’ bastage! You cork soaker!” Even though we were booked under an alias, the show was packed. The timing was great because the club had been closed down for a while due to a riot there. We happened to play the night it reopened, May 31.

  We were in the parking lot when we saw Kelly Nickels from L.A. Guns walking around, shuffling aimlessly like a kid who lost his mother. The band was going into the club from the back and I said, “Dude, what’s happenin’?”

  “Oh, I just came into town. I wanna see the show but it’s sold out.”

  “Come in with me,” I said, and he happily joined us. That night was an epic show. Armed with the Geffen contract, we knew we were on our way. So we bore down and played our songs with an intensity that went beyond what anyone
was doing on the Strip at the time. Extended solos, long jams, and fucking loud—we were getting a reputation for being the loudest band ever (although the Who had made that immortal claim while we were still filling diapers, and a little later Slade took a swipe, a fucking great, loud band).

  We were going to be huge and we never had to compromise. We did it all our way. We never had to sell our own tickets. We never sat around after shows to push our shirts or anything. That was the sort of stuff Poison was about, because they really were all about the business: buy our CD, buy our ball cap, buy our condoms. Not us. We just wanted to play music. We were so much cooler, and the kids knew it and responded.

  Tom had the idea for us to go in the studio and record an EP under our own label, Uzi Suicide, which was actually financed by Geffen. The idea was pretty novel at the time, although everyone does it now. Our whole deal with Geffen was kept pretty hush-hush. Before he signed us Tom had even gone around telling all the A&R people he knew that he thought we sucked. But that’s how Geffen operated, out of the box and pretty slippery. So they thought by making it seem that we financed a record on our own, it would contribute to our authenticity, the all-important street cred. As long as we could get our music out there, without anyone fucking with it, we went along.

  Geffen wanted to put out the live album quickly and get people even more excited about us. It would also get us warmed up to record our full-length album. Honestly, we always had the idea to do a live record. Growing up our favorite records were live records: Kiss’s Alive!, Judas Priest’s Unleashed in the East, Cheap Trick’s At Budokan, and the massive Frampton Comes Alive!