Shut Up and Give Me the Mic

by Dee Snider

  In recent years, Twisted Sister has released more “postmortem”1CDs/DVDs than Tupac Shakur. My least favorite of the bunch, orchestrated by Jay Jay French and Mark Mendoza, are Club Daze Volumes 1 & 2. The first time I listened to this early original material of mine (forget the songs of Jay Jay’s that I always hated), I was stunned. They suck! No wonder we didn’t get signed. I apologize to our fans who grew up with that stuff and love it (some of our early fans like it better than the stuff we became famous for), but as the songwriter, I have to be honest and recognize that it is weak.

  The good news was, I was getting better—a lot better. All of the writing—and rejection—was making me work harder at my craft. Interestingly, nobody else in the band was contributing any ideas. Though I was still very much a loner when it came to creating my own songs, I had become confident enough in my ability that I would have been willing to work with the guys on their ideas. But with me pumping out an endless—and growing—stream of original material, the band seemed to be content to let me do the work.

  Jay Jay always felt he deserved more than the rest of the band because he was the sole founding member left, he owned the name, and most important, he had managed the band for the first few years. He still worked closely with our manager, Mark Puma. The other band members didn’t want to give Jay Jay anything, but I recognized the value of his additional contributions.

  Publishing is the money a songwriter gets when his or her songs are sold in any capacity. My songs had not sold a thing, and my publishing was worth zero dollars, but I knew it would be profitable one day, so I gave Jay Jay 15 percent of what I would make. It was the right thing to do . . . and I knew it would keep him from ever thinking of submitting any more terrible songs.

  Eddie “Fingers”2 Ojeda submitted all of one song from 1976 to 1983, “Working on You Baby.” I’m not sure why. Eddie is a riff master, and I begged him to record a bunch of riffs for me that I could write from, but he never did. Once I started to make money from my publishing, Eddie gave me a couple of things to work on, which I did, but they didn’t make the Stay Hungry record. As I said, songwriting is a craft. By the time Eddie decided to get his ass in gear, my craft was way more developed than his. He never even submitted a song after those last two.

  Mark “the Animal” Mendoza will tell you that I would never listen to or consider his ideas. I swear to you on my children’s lives that is not true. I remember one night in particular, sitting with Mark in the dressing room of the Detroit nightclub, in Port Chester, New York, putting on our stage makeup together and his telling me he had some song ideas. I told him to just give me the ideas on tape and I would see if I could do something with them. I swear. Mark was my best friend. There was no reason I wouldn’t want to work with him.

  Not being a musician beyond playing a little guitar and drums, my songwriting tends to suffer when it comes to its musicality. Sure, I have had my moments (“Under the Blade,” “You Can’t Stop Rock ’n’ Roll,” “Burn in Hell”), but for the most part my songs are strong on melody, but simplistic musically. I would have killed for some more musical ideas from the guys in the band. Maybe I was just overwhelming the guys with my output? Or maybe they just didn’t have any real ideas.

  DURING THE DOLDRUMS, WE did have some brushes with record deals, but they were nothing, little companies, with oddly ambiguous names. An ill-fated deal with Combat Records never came to fruition. I only remember that the guy who let Twisted Sister slip through his hands from that company was fired when the band finally broke in the UK. Then there was Camouflage Records. How’s that for an ambiguous name? The president of Camouflage, Peter Hauke, flew to the States to see our band, loved us, and right then and there worked out a deal with our manager. He then got on a plane with the intention of finalizing our deal once he got back to Germany. On the flight back, the president, a robust twenty-six-year-old man, had a total circulatory system collapse, and Camouflage Records was shut down. Set and match.

  With our slimmest of leads overseas drying up, we turned once again to the labels in the States for another try. But how do you go back to companies who have already said no several times? Faced with the choice of packing it in or continuing to do the only thing we knew how to do, we came up with what he called the Burger King approach to shopping a deal: “Have it your way.” In desperation, as a last-ditch effort to get US record-industry attention, we put together a new demo and press kit with two different photos of the band. One with makeup, and one without. We didn’t care about why they signed us as long as we got a freakin’ deal.

  The “no makeup and costumes” photo session was pretty funny because I put on “just a touch” of makeup for the session. You know, base, blush, light eye shadow, mascara, eyeliner, lip gloss; just the necessities. I looked more like a drag queen—and creepier—in those photos than in the regular Twisted shots. Ha!

  Thankfully the “Have it your way” never saw the light of day . . . we were saved.

  SOMEWHERE DURING THE DOLDRUMS the band performed its two-thousandth show together. Two thousand shows! People were always asking me (when we made it to “the Bigs”) how I got so good at handling audiences. They had no idea of my band’s history and assume that Twisted Sister had been together a few years, mainly rehearsing and doing the occasional show. Say what you want about playing in a cover band, but all those years and all those sets prepare the hell out of you for live performances. Dealing with forty thousand angry headbangers at Castle Donington is nothing compared to five hundred post-happy-hour drunks at a club on the Jersey Shore during the Memorial Day weekend. Now that’s a tough audience!

  REMEMBER THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT? Remember what I said about Twisted Sister’s fans being our greatest asset? Remember that English rock photographer, Ross Halfin, our fans brought to a show in Piscataway, New Jersey, and how he took photos that were put in the biggest UK rock paper, Sounds? Flutter, flutter, flutter (the sound of a butterfly’s wings).

  Not only did the English metal fans start to take notice, but so did the Sounds editorial staff. Editor Geoff Barton sent a punk/metalhead staff writer, Garry Bushell, to find out what all the Twisted Sister hubbub was about in the States. In the spring of ’81, Garry showed up at a club in New York, was completely blown away by the band and the fan reaction, and headed back to Great Britain filled with Twisted tales. He wrote about his Twisted experience in America, creating further interest in the band in England. Thankfully, the butterfly flutter was stirring into a breeze that would change the course of the band’s life forever. And it was about fucking time!

  20

  i got you babe

  In the midst of the Doldrums and all this career insecurity and worry, one of the greatest things in my life happened. After being engaged for three and a half years, living together for four, and dating for five and half years, Suzette and I got married!

  I never was one for thinking things through or looking at the big picture. I tend to “use the force” and go with what my gut—or whatever body part is doing the talking—tells me. I screw up from time to time, but in the scheme of things, my overall hitting percentage is definitely Hall of Fame worthy. While I always figured I would hold off on marriage and a family until my musical career was better situated, the way things were going, I couldn’t wait any longer to get my real life started.

  Getting married and having a family was always a major part of my life’s plan (okay, sometimes I did look at the big picture), and though the world, and my peers, viewed having a family and being a rock star as mutually exclusive, I never did. To me, that was the promise of being a rock ’n’ roll star—living the way you wanted to, without the limitations or rules of a traditional life.

  Though I’d only just finished ridding myself of debt and had no money saved and no real financial support from our extended families to pay for it, I charged headlong into getting hitched. Did I mention I wanted to have a big wedding? Suzette will be the first to tell you that while she wanted a traditional wedding, I wanted
a big wedding. I was consummating the greatest conquest of my life—getting Suzette Gargiulo to marry me—and I wanted everyone we knew (and then some) to bear witness!

  To this day, if someone asks me what the greatest achievement of my life is, I respond, “Getting Suzette to love me and be my wife.” That’s the truth. It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. You don’t think so? I got a girl who had absolutely no interest in me—was repulsed by me—to love me, marry me, have my children, and stay with me for more than three decades. That’s a miracle. Becoming a rock star was tough, but at least rock ’n’ roll showed signs of accepting me from day one. I always believed, and knew, I could go the distance with music. With Suzette, not so much.

  I can see now that the lengthy planning of our wedding (and finding a new place to live and furnishing it) helped to keep me sane during this dark career time. It gave me something else important to focus on and made me feel that my life was going someplace even if my career wasn’t.

  During all the ups and downs of my career, my home life has been a singular stabilizing and grounding force. In my darkest times, I always had Suzette (and my kids) there for me, and during my career highs, they have always kept me from getting carried away with my own self-importance. Thank you for that, Suzette.

  OUR WEDDING DATE WAS set for the fall, and while we dealt with all the details of having a three-hundred-person wedding, my rock ’n’ roll life continued. Part of the “Have it your way” plan was a new demo tape, and that meant new, original songs. During this time the seminal Twisted Sister songs “Shoot ’Em Down” and the aptly titled “You Can’t Stop Rock ’n’ Roll” (amongst others) were created. As Twisted Sister’s songwriter, I was hitting my stride. During those demo recording sessions, the band also recorded a song I wrote as a wedding present for Suzette, “You’re Not Alone (Suzette’s Song).”1

  I presented it to her at our reception.

  ON OCTOBER 25, 1981, Suzette and I had a traditional wedding in a beautiful little church, in Huntington, Long Island. With Mark “the Animal” Mendoza as my best man and Wendy Cohen (now Yair)—Suzette’s best friend, who helped keep us together—as her co–maid of honor along with Suzette’s sister Roseanne, we pledged our undying love to each other. Actually, I’m not so sure about Suzette. She was so nervous on the day that when repeating the vows, she said, “I take Mr. Snider to be my husband. . . .” I think she may be married to my dad!

  Suzette and I started down the path of holy matrimony in the best style we could afford at the time . . . at least from the neck down. My bride looked absolutely stunning, but with me in my white tuxedo and Mendoza in his “morning” tuxedo, you would swear our big-haired heads were photoshopped onto other bodies. If Photoshop existed in 1981.

  With some financial help from Suzette’s father on the reception (with an assist and temporary loans from Jay Jay French and Mark Puma), we had a legendary party! The reception was packed with family, friends, business associates, and other people who for the life of me, when I look back at our wedding pictures, I don’t know who they are! What a motley crew. The classic Brooklyn/Staten Island Italians of Suzette’s family with the suburban Eastern European Snider family, our rock ’n’ roll friends, and the borderline thugs who were the invited club owners were quite a sight. But to a man, woman, and child, it is still talked about as one of the greatest weddings anybody has ever been to.

  Suzette wanted our wedding song to be “I Got You Babe” by Sonny & Cher, but I felt it made a joke out of our relationship—the lyrics hit too close to home. We wound up using some Stevie Wonder song I don’t even remember. Suzette was right; “I Got You Babe” would have been perfect.

  Thanks to my parents, the next day we headed off to Jamaica for a much-needed honeymoon/vacation, and I started “planting the seeds” for our next big adventure. Get it? Planting? Seeds? Do I have to draw you a picture!?

  IN DECEMBER 1981, MARTIN Hooker, the president of the British indie label Secret Records, contacted our manager about Twisted Sister. The writer from Sounds magazine, Garry Bushell, had been so impressed with the band that he reached out to Martin and gave him our demo tape. (Thank you, Garry!) Martin Hooker loved the tape and wanted to see the band immediately.

  Coincidentally, Twisted was giving a concert a few days later at the Mid-Hudson Civic Center in Poughkeepsie, New York, about seventy-five miles north of New York City. Twisted had a huge following in the Hudson Valley region of New York State and had sold out the over-three-thousand-capacity arena multiple times. Martin Hooker seized the opportunity to see the band in a concert environment (as opposed to a club), and a few days later he was landing at JFK International Airport and being driven upstate.

  We did what we always did, and the Secret Record’s president was appropriately impressed. He came backstage with our manager, Mark Puma, and told us that he was going to sign the band. Our reactions were . . . controlled.

  “Cool.”

  “Great.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Confused, Martin Hooker left the dressing room with our manager. He knew our history. He knew how long we’d been trying to get a deal. Yet, when he told us he was ready to record an album with us, we were anything but enthusiastic.

  “They’re happy, Martin,” explained Puma. “It’s just that they’ve had so many near misses and collapsed deals, they find it hard to get their hopes up.”

  It was true. Besides . . . Secret Records? Talk about ambiguous. We’d never even heard of the label. Must be because it’s so secret! Handshake, Camouflage, Secret—what we wouldn’t have given for a label with a name that didn’t sound like Abbott and Costello’s “Who’s on first?” sketch when you told somebody about it.

  “What label did you sign with?”

  “It’s Secret.”

  “C’mon, you can tell me.”

  “It’s Secret.”

  “I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

  “I told you, it’s Secret!”

  You get the picture. Martin Hooker headed back to the UK promising to make good on his word, and we prayed that something tragic wouldn’t happen to the fine young man before he did.

  Though Secret Records did eventually sign us, these things tend to take a long time and leave you guessing if they will ever get done. With our track record, we didn’t bother to get our hopes up.

  As Twisted Sister continued to slog its way through the winter, the ugliest time of year to play, a notable bright light was shining in the darkness . . . and it wasn’t an oncoming train. In March of 1982, Suzette and I found out she was pregnant with our first child. With a floundering career, a small weekly salary, and a studio apartment, we couldn’t have been happier!

  Some people say babies are good luck. I’m a believer. From the moment I found out Suzette was pregnant, things, unbeknownst to me, began to get better.

  21

  drums, drums, drums, drums!

  With drummer #5 turning out to be everything we hoped he wouldn’t be, the search began for his replacement. Joey Brighton was destined to be the Pete Best of Twisted Sister. Once again by invitation only, myriad drummers made their way to the rehearsal studio to see if they might be the chosen one, and we held our breath and prayed.

  One of the toughest failed drum auditions for me was Neil Smith of the original Alice Cooper band. We had known Neil for a quite a while. As I was a huge Alice Cooper fan, just being friendly with the guy was an honor. His band’s music changed my life. As we were looking for a new drummer, we thought, how cool would it be if Twisted Sister was joined by a rock legend like Neil Smith?! Neil was currently in a band, Flying Tigers, playing a lot of the same venues as us. I put in a call to Neil, and he said he would love to join Twisted. Now, there was just the formality of the audition—or so we thought.

  Neil came down to the studio with his own roadie and massive road cases. Inside were his legendary mirrored drums! These were the first-ever mirrored drums, which saw the world on the Alice Cooper Billion Doll
ar Babies tour, and we had all seen them gracing the pages and covers of so many rock and music magazines. They were amazing, and as a fan I was in awe of having the Neil Smith playing my songs, on those drums, with my band. It was absolutely surreal . . . until he started to play.

  Neil Smith is an innovator as a drummer whose style helped change the face of modern drumming. He bridged the gap between the styles of the sixties and the early seventies and what came to be contemporary heavy-rock drumming (in the eighties). But that was the problem. Heavy drumming had evolved, and Neil’s transitional style just wasn’t right for the band. No matter how bad we wanted this to work, it just didn’t. The call I had to make to Neil Smith, one of my childhood heroes and now a friend, to tell him he didn’t pass the audition, was one of the toughest phone calls I ever had to make. Man, did that suck.

  Somewhere along the way in our search for drummer #6, a friend of the band’s gave me a tape of a drummer friend of his. “This guy’s amazing,” he said with his thick Staten Island accent. “You should check him out.”

  I took the cassette tape—it didn’t have a case and wasn’t even labeled—and threw it into my gig bag with my stage clothes. It quickly sank to the bottom.

  Months later, on my way out of my apartment to a dentist appointment, I was looking around for something to take with me to listen to.1

  I spotted the cassette tape of the drummer that had been getting banged around in my gig bag (I can’t believe I didn’t lose it). I grabbed it—not expecting much—and took it with me. As I sat in the dentist’s chair with dread, my mouth filled with dental apparatuses, fighting to keep my mouth open, I heard a powerhouse of a drummer! I couldn’t believe it. This guy’s tape had been in my bag for months.2 If I thought he sounded good now, imagine how much I would like him when I wasn’t getting my teeth drilled.