Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed

by Michael Sweet

  This was all documented in a show on VH1 called “Where Are They Now?” That’s right, my life now consists of hip waders, campfire curfews, and cameos on “Where Are They Now.”

  Several times during my stint as Ranger Mike, I would on occasion run into Stryper fans. One guy in particular was blasting “To Hell With The Devil” as I walked up to tell him and his 20 some odd guests that they would have to put the fire out. He glared at me with frustration and then began to recognize me. “Aren’t you Michael Sweet?” he asked. “Who’s Michael Sweet?” I responded and then confessed to the accusation. I wound up letting them burn the fire for another hour because I took a seat and hung with them for that hour. It was humbling but always interesting, and I was okay with it. My walk with God was stronger than ever, and I was learning to be happy with my place in life and accept the path that I was on.

  I was focusing on keeping my priorities straight—God and family. For a while it felt great not having the pressures of the music business hanging over my head. At the end of the day, I’d come home tired and dirty from working outside, but it felt great to work hard and then spend time with my family in the evenings. Somehow it felt good to be physically exhausted at the end of the day.

  My life was in God’s hands and if this is what He wanted me to do, I was going to make the best of it. I wanted to give my best, no matter what I was doing. It also felt good to not have record executives telling me they were going to “pass” or that the single wasn’t charting, or that sales were declining and they might not be able to work the album much longer. The pressure was off, in the corporate sense anyway.

  No more suits telling me whether or not my music was good enough or marketable enough. I knew that as long as I was working hard, honoring God, and providing for my family, things would work out.

  But as I drove around in the Jeep all day, worked in the bogs or cleaned out campsite cesspools, inevitably song ideas would creep into my head. After almost two years of working in the family business, I had dozens of songs in my head but nothing to do with them. I had no outlet for them to be heard.

  In 1997, though, some interesting doors began to open. For years the unofficial band historian had been a guy by the name of Brett Christensen. Brett knew Jeff Wollschlager who, for a school project, had developed The Michael Sweet website. I, along with a large majority of the world, was still not Internet savvy, but Brett told me about this website Jeff had developed and I eventually took at look at it. I was really impressed with what I saw, and I contacted Jeff about making MichaelSweet.com official. On my $250 a week salary, I certainly had no money to hire a webmaster, but Jeff offered his services for free and launched MichaelSweet.com in 1997.

  I had been attending a home church that I and a few other people had formed called Cornerstone. Pastor David Johnson led the church, and we met in different homes each week, ours being one of those homes. I led the music. I felt better about my faith than I had in years and I looked forward to church every week. A couple by the name of Russ and Ria Berg were also members. They owned a business that supplied home-schooling curriculum, and eventually they helped in getting Mikey and Lena what they needed. It was an amazing group of eclectic and exciting people, including my dear friends—actor, director and writer David Wall and his wife, Kerry. The Bergs and the Walls were from California as well and we instantly bonded. It was a small group, but we had the energy and passion of a mega-church.

  On New Year’s Eve of 1997, the Bergs invited Kyle and me to their house for dinner. Also at that party were brothers Justin and Joel Christian and Rob Graves. Justin would ultimately help in writing many of the lyrics for my next album. They told me about a guy they knew, Kenny Lewis, who had a small recording studio in Middleton, Massachusetts. I was intrigued. I had all these songs in my head from working at the campground and had no way of recording them.

  A few days later I met with Kenny and he offered to record my songs for free. He was a believer as well and just wanted to help me out. Kenny and I have remained lifelong friends, and Kenny has also been instrumental in helping to launch not only my career but Stryper’s career as well. Kenny was an incredibly positive turning point in my life.

  Whenever time permitted, I would drive to Kenny’s (90 miles each way) and record, all the while learning of growing interest in my music from around the world through the website Jeff Wollschlager had set up. Fans were contacting Jeff through the website asking about me. This gave me an incredible passion to continue recording with the hopes of one day sharing my music again.

  Still, I continued to shop songs to labels, and I continued to get turned down. So in 1998, with no help from a label at all but with all the power of the Internet, I self-released the songs recorded at Kenny’s under the title Truth. Shockingly, I sold almost 25,000 copies on my own, stuffing packages from the basement each day and night for months on end.

  Every time I hear musicians complain about the Internet, and sometimes being one of those musicians, I try to remind myself of 1998 when it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I no longer needed the validation of a record label. I no longer needed a label to say, “Yes, we will release your music.” I, for the first time ever, had the ability to reach the fans directly and bypass the labels completely, and I have to say it felt awesome!

  Up until this point, I had so many doors slammed in my face I was almost beginning to believe myself that possibly nobody cared if I ever made music again. But thanks to Jeff’s website and Kenny’s recording studio and both of them willing to offer their services for free, I was able to release music directly to the fans. For that, I will forever be grateful, and to the 25,000-plus fans that purchased that CD.

  I continued working part-time at the campground, and in 1999 I self-released Unstryped, the demo I had recorded back in ’92. I put it out mostly as a means to subsidize my income, as I never have been particularly fond of those recordings.

  That same year I reconnected with Bill Hein, from the Enigma days, now with Restless Records. He heard the album and loved it and ultimately signed me to a deal to re-make Truth. Bill was behind the project 100 percent. We got Bob Marlette to produce it and Kenny Aronoff to track drums. Rob Graves co-produced part of the original record, and has since gone on to produce many albums as well, including RED and Pillar. I even brought in Oz to do a solo on the song “The Ever After.”

  That recording came together perfectly. To this day, it’s one of the records that I’m most proud of as an artist. I poured my heart and soul into the making of those songs.

  Within what felt like days after the album being released, Restless Records’ parent company, Regency Films, pulled the plug on funding for the label. Truth was released on October 10, 2000 with all the power and force of a Kleenex being tossed across the room. It was basically dead upon release, which is sad because I feel it was some of my most artistic work ever recorded.

  I’m beginning to see a pattern here. I got signed to Enigma, and they closed. I got signed to Benson, and they disappeared. I got signed to Restless—they went under. Most artists can go their entire life and never get a record deal. I, on the other hand, by the age of 37 had somehow managed to successfully help three labels close their doors.

  Truth having never seen the light of day is one of the saddest moments, if not the saddest moment in my career. I put everything I had into making that record and artistically it was unlike anything I had ever made. I wrote those songs working in the bogs—out in the cold with blisters on my feet and hands. I had tearful crying sessions with the packing and unpacking of my musical equipment. So much incredible work and patience had gone into the making of this album, only to have it fall by the wayside in what seemed like an instant. It was heartbreaking, and I couldn’t believe it was happening. Recovering from this would not come easy.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  I did not get into music for the money. And, I’m still not in it for the money. But I need money to live, just like anyone else. Yet with me the
re has always been this awkward dance, a fine line I’ve had to walk, between needing money and being mindful to not do something for the money.

  Because I’m a Christian this can get even more awkward than it might for other musicians. The general public would likely be shocked to see the incredibly high number of requests we get from people asking to send them free music or to perform for free. The sometimes stated and sometimes presumed assumption is that because we are Christians, we should do things for free. And when we’re unable to do so, it’s equally as alarming the backlash and cries of outrage we receive. “You should not charge us for a performance. You’re a ministry, and we’re trying to raise money for our church. Shame on you!” is a typical response when we politely explain our inability to travel across the country and perform for free at the Main Street Christian Church of Home-Town USA.

  This has always fascinated me. I won’t say that it angers me because it doesn’t. I completely understand their intentions. It’s just a little baffling.

  They are asking us to perform for free, to raise money for their organization. And why do they need the money? To pay for the contractors, plumbers, and electricians that of course will not work for free to build their new Sunday school wing at their church.

  So why not just ask the contractors and plumbers to work for free? Well, because they won’t. They too have families to feed. They too have mortgages and utility bills to pay. So instead, they ask, and often expect, us to perform for free to raise money for whatever expense-of-the-month might be on their budget calendar. Why is this? Why do people so easily ask us to perform for free but rarely ask the builders to work for free? Are our skills as musicians less difficult or less valuable than those of the contractors and plumbers? Because we’re in ministry we should perform for free, but the contractors shouldn’t work for free?

  Don’t get me wrong, not everyone who asks us to perform for free gets upset when we can’t. A lot of them understand that we just simply cannot afford to do so. But the ones that don’t understand sure do get vocal about it.

  It’s tough, because truly if I could, I’d play every request we get and charge nothing for it. But if I did that I would be an irresponsible husband, father, and bandleader. So we have to ask for money whether we, or the people asking us to play, like it or not.

  At this point in my life I have two basic choices: Get paid to make music or get paid to work at Home Depot. Either way, I need to get paid. I need to provide for my family.

  So for my entire life I’ve walked this fine line between music and ministry. I do it because I love it. I get paid for it so that I can provide for my family. But somehow, when you’re a Christian musician, getting paid is often taboo.

  As I started to dance with the idea of playing with the guys in Stryper, I was once again reminded of this fine line. Yes, I needed money, but I didn’t want to do it for the money. It’s a tough balance that I’ve always struggled with.

  In 1999 I was a weekend warrior, working a day job mostly and playing out on the weekends whenever possible. One of those gigs was in Puerto Rico, where I flew down to sit in with Oz and Tim performing with their band, Sin Dizzy. I came out and played with the guys, and we even did a few Stryper tunes.

  The morning following the show a longtime fan, Rich Serpa, met with us at breakfast to discuss an idea he had been working on for a Stryper Expo. The thought was to bring in Stryper fans from all across the world to meet, trade collectibles, and to ideally have us perform. I was skeptical, for a number of reasons. For starters, I knew something like this would be an enormous undertaking physically, logistically and financially. Lots of Stryper fans over the years have come to us with grandiose ideas only to have them fall by the wayside after realizing the time and money that would be involved.

  Rich seemed sincere, motivated and smart, so I was interested in exploring this idea. But my other reservation would be—could Stryper bond together as a band again?

  I continued conversations with Rich, and eventually I agreed to be move forward with and perform at the Expo.

  Brett Christensen and a guy named Greg Hayes had already started Stryper.com, so we promoted the Expo through that website mostly. Still, as the date approached, I was skeptical that anyone would even show up.

  Since we had no infrastructure to take ticket reservations, Rich had convinced a local bookstore in New Jersey to take orders and run them through the stores credit card processing in exchange for a small percentage of the sales. After the first week or so of being on sale, Rich went in to the bookstore to check to see if we had sold any tickets. The owner of the bookstore was polite but said they were having second thoughts about handling the orders. He said they had been getting calls from all over the world and that he had to bring in another person just to handle it all. Fortunately, the bookstore owner stood by us and continued taking calls and processing the sales.

  Ultimately, all the stars aligned and on May 21, 2000 we held the first Stryper Expo at the Sheraton Tara Hotel in Parsippany, New Jersey. About 1,500 people attended from as far away as Japan and Australia.

  For the first time in nine years the four of us—Robert, Tim, Oz, and myself—performed together as Stryper. It wasn’t really much of a performance, though. It was a small stage set up in the hotel ballroom. I wore Adidas sweat pants, if that gives you any indication as to how seriously I took this. Yes, I loved seeing everyone, and I enjoyed the camaraderie and “hang time,” but an actual rock show it was not. At best, I viewed it as a jam session with former band mates. Still, it was fun, and the reception was incredible. We didn’t get paid for performing at the Expo. Although it was a success, Rich was financially only in a position to cover our travel and lodging expenses.

  Jeff Wollschlager had come out to help with the event and after it was over, he drove me back to my house in Buzzards Bay, about a five-hour drive from Parsippany. During the drive he asked me what it would take for me to want to put Stryper back together. The list was too long to consider. I had enjoyed one night with my former band mates and was content leaving it at that.

  A few days following the Expo, however, I received word that there was interest in Stryper playing a show in Costa Rica in December of that same year. Rafael Richards ran a cable access show and had come to the Expo to interview us. The minister of a church in Cartago, Costa Rica, had contacted him about trying to bring us down, who in turn contacted Rich, who in turn contacted me.

  Again, it came back to the fine line between wanting to do Stryper for the right reasons yet also needing the money. I never have been involved in Stryper for the money. It has to feel right. Over the years leading up to this we’ve been offered a lot of money to reunite, but it just never felt right. But I was coming off the heels of the Expo, and that felt great. The outpouring of support from the fans blew me away, and I had a great time jamming with the guys. That situation led me to become open to the idea of playing another show. I negotiated the deal and we accepted an offer of $30,000—quite a bit more money than any of us had seen in a while. Rich went as our tour manager and the show took place on December 16, 2000. We played to almost 6,000 fans.

  We flew down to Costa Rica a few days prior to the show to get a short rehearsal in and to do some press.

  Getting in and out of any foreign country is never easy, so we put it in Rich’s hands to help navigate the visas, work permits, and customs forms in order for us to bring some gear and merchandise.

  Robert had become involved with a company called World Gone Mad Entertainment, a one- or two-man operation funding Robert’s solo project, Love Trash. I was a bit apprehensive about the guy who ran that company, Mike Reynolds. Something just didn’t feel right about what little I knew of him.

  Stryper was not a band, so there was no official Stryper merchandise to speak of. I went down there with a bunch of Michael Sweet merchandise. Tim and Oz brought some Sin Dizzy stuff, and this guy Mike Reynolds brought some Robert Sweet merch, but he also took it upon himself to print and bring S
tryper merchandise as well.

  The government in Costa Rica at the time was a bit sketchy to say the least. Getting in and out of customs and even conducting basic business was risky and often resulted in behind-the-scenes payoffs. Rich was working with a missionary to get our merchandise through customs, so Tim, Oz, and I had no problems getting it through. Mike Reynolds however didn’t go through Rich’s suggested missionary and instead went at it alone. As a result, Mike’s merchandise got detained in customs, and he had to pay some pretty hefty fines to get it out. He eventually made his way into the country with Stryper t-shirts in tow.

  Oftentimes throughout the history of this band, I’m fully aware that I get the “bad guy” rap—and by that I mean that I’m the one who speaks up when I see something I don’t like. As a result, I’m always seen as the bad guy of the bunch for doing so.

  It didn’t set well with me that Mike Reynolds had just taken it upon himself to print Stryper merchandise. If someone was going to make money off the Stryper name, it’s only fair that the rest of the band participate in the profits. After all, it’s our name and likeness!

  After many problems Mike encountered in customs, when the day of the show arrived, the police were on site. They were planning to shut down the merchandise sales or at least get paid under the table for allowing the sales to go on. Tim, Oz, and I didn’t want the hassle, so we closed up shop and just didn’t sell any more merchandise. Our merch stands had only been open for a short period of time when the police arrived, so we didn’t sell much of anything. But Mike Reynolds had invested tens of thousands of dollars in printing Stryper merchandise, not to mention the fines he had to pay to get it in and out of customs, so he wasn’t about to shut down. Unfortunately he had no choice. The police made him shut it all down and he was stuck with thousands of dollars in Stryper merchandise that he likely was not going to be able to get out of the country. Needless to say, he was furious.