*I spent a fair amount of time hanging out with their lead singer, a guy named Paul Baloff. We had a lot in common, having both grown up under challenging circumstances that involved fending for ourselves at a ridiculously young age. Paul’s life had been even harder than mine, and (like me) he had issues with drugs and alcohol. But what an incredible spirit! Boundless energy, prodigious talent, great sense of humor.
In the end, though, I think Paul was basically a street urchin who never really adapted to the regular world. He was kicked out of Exodus a few years later, and in 2002 he passed away from complications related to a stroke. A memorial was held in his honor and donations were solicited on behalf of the Save the Wolves Foundation. This made sense, given that in his latter years Paul was periodically homeless and supposedly living mostly in the wild, with a gray wolf as his loyal companion. I don’t know if this is true or merely apocryphal, but it certainly adds to the legend of Paul Baloff. And it seems somehow appropriate. Rest in peace, brother.
*Many years later both James and Lars would identify the trip as a breaking point; the two even acknowledged that while I was out of earshot, tucked away in the cargo bay of the U-Haul, they were up front listening to tapes of other bands, secretly “auditioning” guitarists who might take my place.
*Not monogamous, of course; I remained an alcoholic with a wandering eye for some time to come.
*I got the title from an old Reader’s Digest article.
*Okay, hit me with the misogynist label. I am trying to use the language we would have used at the time. That was the parlance of the era, and it was particularly true in our case. They were bitches, girlfriends, companions for the evening. Sometimes they were all three things at once, since we broke up with our girlfriends at least once a week. It was what it was.
*I’ve since made amends to Jay and we remain friends to this day.
*I’ve always maintained that “GLAM” is actually an acronym for “gay L.A. music.”
*This was the first and only time Megadeth went into the studio as a three-piece band: me, David Ellefson, and Nick Menza.
*Meaning I was leaving against medical advice and that they were no longer responsible for what happened to my sorry ass.
*A note on the term rehab. I’m using it to describe any period of inpatient treatment, but it’s worth noting that the duration and intensity of these visits varied. It’s not like I went to a place, got hooked up to a bunch of machines, cleared the system, and then went out and hoed rows of corn for six months with Betty Ford. That wasn’t it at all.
*True, actually—one of the guys in our group had indeed asked me to serve as his watchdog for the evening; incredibly enough, I was the sober cop!
*I ended up loaning Junior ten thousand dollars to help keep the farm in business, which didn’t help our relationship when things got gnarly down the road.
*Indeed, Marty now lives and works full-time in Japan; we used to joke that Marty misunderstood his mother’s directive: when she told him to marry a JAP, she meant Jewish American Princess.
*No disrespect to Kenny G intended. I’m actually friendly with the dude. His kids are musicians with an interest in playing metal, so our paths have crossed on a few occasions.
*Remember—this was 1994; I think it’s fair to say we were a little ahead of the curve on this one.
*I don’t do it myself, mind you; even in my whorish days I preferred the relative safety and cleanliness of amateurs.
*Nick fancied himself some sort of martial arts prodigy, although I never saw any evidence of it.
*Bud, incidentally, passed away not long ago; my condolences to his wife, Gloria, and his son, Evan.
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