18 and Life on Skid Row

by Sebastian Bach

  SuperGroup. Well, It’s a Group . . .

  2006

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  A far more silly television venture presented itself as an opportunity from VH1. A reality-tv show (#redflag) called SuperGroup. I was to be paired in a house in Las Vegas with none other than Ted Nugent, Scott Ian, Evan Seinfeld, and Jason Bonham. We were to perform a concert at the end of the two-week filming, where we lived together at the house of notorious Las Vegas character Nico Santucci.

  Perhaps the most ironic thing about this television show was that our group was to be managed by none other than Doc McGhee. The guy who had signed me to a management contract when I was a teenager. None of us knew who the other cast members of the show were before we got to Las Vegas. When I entered the rehearsal room, and found out that I was going to be in a band with Ted Nugent, on a TV show, I couldn’t even fathom my own life.

  My dad had given me the album Weekend Warriors on the exact same Christmas day that he gave me the KISS album Alive! back in the ’70s. I had stared at that cover painting of Ted, shooting bullets out of his guitar, for untold hours. Brought it with me to All Saints Church Choir practice, to wave around the room and show it to my friends. Ted Nugent was one of my all-time musical and personal heroes. He was without a doubt the funniest, wildest front man in rock. But even more than that, one of the most talented guitar players the world will ever hear. I could not have had more love in my heart for Ted Nugent. Before we shot the show.

  This was after my dad, grandfather, and Carl Anderson all died near the age of fifty-seven. Ted, when we began the show, was exactly fifty-seven years old. So he obviously assumed the role of my father on SuperGroup. The fact that Ted was this age while we shot the show was not lost on me. I definitely looked up to him as a fatherly figure, a mentor, a confidant. Ted played the role well, and was very nice, even showing compassion towards me about losing my dad. Since they were the same age, when I was with Ted, that my dad died, it was easy to relate to him. And he to me. The fact that Dad had bought Weekend Warriors for me at Christmastime endeared Uncle Ted to my dad, without a doubt.

  After my experience in Jesus Christ Superstar, I had started to drink wine every single night. Carl Anderson turned me onto it, and I had subsequently developed a taste for grapes bordering on the voracious. I learned on the show SuperGroup that a little alcohol goes a long way while shooting a television show. After watching the show, I vowed to myself I would never drink on television, ever again. And I haven’t.

  Ted has always viewed himself as a strong campaigner against drinking and drug use. I was drinking wine and smoking during the making of SuperGroup and he knew it. Ted’s admonishment of me became a part of the show. The climax of the last episode, in concert, where I pretend to drink Jack Daniel’s onstage, drove Ted nuts and was actually quite a funny part of the show.

  One incident sticks out in my mind from SuperGroup. I knew that Ted had racist tendencies, or at least I myself had heard him use reprehensible words such as the n-word. I had known this from the time I shot an episode of Forever Wild at Ted’s house, in upstate Michigan. After a day of shooting, we had a barbecue on his deck with his friends. Once the cameras were turned off, I was shocked at the language of these guys. It was all n-word this, black this, talking about the Detroit riots in the late ’60s and other stuff that nobody else I knew was talking about decades later. It broke my heart that this guy I looked up to musically so much came off as so backward in his attitude towards race. Coupled with his happy-go-lucky attitude towards killing animals, I’ve always thought it a shame that Ted’s lifestyle and political leanings in his later years undoubtedly overshadow his incredible music.

  One day we were shooting SuperGroup in the Las Vegas house. Ted was on the couch, and I was next to him. We were discussing band names and I ended up thinking up the name Damnocracy, which was no doubt a crap name, but the best that we could do, under the gun.

  Out of nowhere, Ted burst into a rant to no one, and everyone.

  “You want to know something, Mr. Bach????”

  “What’s that, Uncle Ted????” I was laughing. Ted was so funny he made my cheeks hurt when he talked. I always had to rub my face after hanging out with him, he was so hilarious.

  “Let me tell you something right now, Sebastian. I am as BLACK as a black coal miner in the black of a black night! I am a nigger. I tell you what, Sebastian! Uncle Ted don’t lie! I’m as black as a black cold night under the black moon! I’m a black knight! I’m as black as James Brown pullin’ a black train of black coal into his black town!” The smile had disappeared from my face.

  I couldn’t stand the way Ted talked like this. It made me sick to my stomach. Coming from the Bahamas, going to school at Mary Star of the Sea School in Freeport, the only white boy in a class of forty black children, I have never been able to understand racism in any way. It makes me angry and nauseous.

  Not everyone in the room was Caucasian. As I looked up, to my shock and horror, I saw the men behind the cameras. The cameramen who had been filming this exchange with the Nuge were African American gentlemen. They were repulsed and horrified at Ted Nugent’s words. I got up from the couch, embarrassed. I was ashamed as I walked past the cameramen and out of the room. Disgusted, I did not want to be filmed next to this archaic exchange of words that was horrible for all to hear. I certainly did not want what was just filmed to ever end up on TV, or anywhere.

  I went to the producer Rick Krim, the man behind SuperGroup. Who was also responsible for first airing Skid Row videos in the late ’80s.

  “I can’t fucking do this, dude.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t be on TV next to Ted Nugent using the n-word. Telling everybody he’s black. He’s actually a white, middle-age man. He’s not black. He’s not James Brown. I thought the cameramen were going to start crying, for fuck sakes. That’s enough.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to Ted.”

  The next time I saw Ted, he was storming around the house, yelling at anybody and everybody.

  “What the fuck? I can’t say what I want to say? I can’t use the words I want to use? Whoever is any of these producers to tell me what to say?”

  It was completely lost on the Motor City Madman how his insensitive words, from another time, had hurt actual, real people in the room with him in the year 2004. I would not be a part of a hurtful campaign of bigotry right in the room with crew members he did not even seem to acknowledge. He certainly did not seem to have any sort of remorse for the pain of his words, that hurt these guys, who were only there doing their job. Which was to try and make Ted Nugent look good.

  Celebrity Fat Club

  2007

  Southern California

  A year or so later, I would film another show on VH1 called Celebrity Fit Club. Along with Bobby Brown, Kevin Federline, Nicole Eggert, Jay McCarroll, and others, we got through the show. As cringe-worthy as the title is, I actually did lose a lot of weight and learned a lot about eating healthier and fitness. One day I was walking across the military boot camp set complete with Drill Sergeant Harvey Walden. Producer Keith Geller came up to me and said, “Hey man, these dudes want to talk to you.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  He led me over to these two African American dudes. I did not know who they were. Or, more accurately, I did not remember who they were. But I had indeed encountered them before.

  “Hey, Sebastian. We were the two cameramen that were filming you and Ted Nugent that day on SuperGroup. The time when you stopped the shoot and stomped off the set. We want you to know something right now.”

  “We will never forget what you did that day.”

  I laughed at first, and then got a little emotional. They got emotional as well. They shook my hand and looked me straight in the eye. They proceeded to explain to me how much it meant to them that I stormed off the set, and how they dug it how I had the balls to tell the producers to tell Ted Nugent to shut the fuck up. They explained to me that they would
never forget me standing up to The Nuge in front of them, and that they would always have my back, in any way, as well.

  If you could’ve told me, when I was ten years old, that the words of two strangers would mean more to me than the respect of the almighty Ted Nugent, I would have not have believed you. But racism is simply abhorrent to me. I do not understand it. Yes, I love the guitar solos. The hair. The loincloth. “Cat Scratch Fever.” I really love the song “Smokescreen.” But if that same smoke screen is used to cover up something as stupid as racism, then I’m sorry, I’m out. I did not mean to make any sort of statement that day while shooting SuperGroup. I just could not be in the same room as any fool who uses those words. I don’t give a fuck who you are. But my actions meant something to these two cameramen.

  And that meant something to me.

  Once again, standing up for something I believed in, made a difference to a stranger that I did not know. Just like rock ’n’ roll.

  Don’t ever be afraid to stand up for what you believe in.

  Even to your heroes.

  Sometimes you should leave people on a pedestal. Where maybe, they should remain.

  Because sometimes, if you pick them up, they can easily drop.

  And break.

  Trailer Park Boys

  As I’ve said, depending where I am, I get recognized for different things. When I go to a rock ’n’ roll bar, it’s Skid Row of course. When I go to a shopping mall packed with twelve-year-old girls, worldwide it’s “Aren’t you that guy from Gilmore Girls? But when I walk the streets of Canada, my home country, there is one thing that I get noticed for, above all else.

  “Hey!!!! Who out here likes model fucking trains?” comes the rallying cry.

  The funniest TV show I have ever seen in my life is called Trailer Park Boys. Starring Bubbles, Ricky, and Julian, along with Mr. Lahey, JRock, and who can forget Cyrus. “You don’t even fucking know that nobody even fucking likes bullies!!!” I wrote that line. They kept it in. Memes we made out of this. I mean, that Cyrus is a dick.

  When I first saw the show, I was more than a bit confused. I actually thought, Is this a real show? After about fifteen minutes, I realized it was, in fact, a comedy. Go back to the beginning of this book. Doing acid, jumping off the bridge? Into the waters of Peterborough, Ontario? Getting high playing Asteroids in the arcade? Collapsing into the fetal position at the variety store? We kind of lived just like this, in the late ’70s/early ’80s, in Canada. At least we did in my town.

  I have since become great friends with the lads. To the point where, in 2006 on the road with Guns N’ Roses in Canada, we invited the Trailer Park Boys to go on tour with us. They came on the bus, and traveled the snowy Canadian highways and byways, all across the country, partying and rocking with us. When I showed Axl Rose the show for the first time, he erupted with such hilarity we all took notice. The show resonated with him as much as with me. Or maybe Indiana was a lot like Ontario back then. Maybe that was the way pretty much everywhere. Regardless, Bubbles in particular became very close friends with Axl. To the point where I was on tour in 2010 with GNR in Australia, I open my hotel room door, and there is Bubbles with his glasses on, looking for some dope.

  I look forward to much more meaningful acting with the Trailer Park Boys, well into my elderly years. As long as I don’t have to pay for that bee on the honey oil as well, eh?

  15

  BACH IN THE SADDLE

  The Return of the Redheaded Stranger

  2006

  I received a mysterious phone call. Actually it was a text. It just said, “Hey. It’s Axl.”

  I was like, “Which one of my friends is playing a stupid joke on me?”

  There was no way this was Axl Rose. That didn’t even enter my mind. I thought for sure this must be a friend of mine playing some sort of trick.

  Then I looked at the area code for whoever sent the message. It said 310. Southern California. Could it really be? So, on a whim, I just pressed “call number.” A deep voice answered the phone. “Hello?” There was no mistaking the tone. The intensity. It was indeed my friend from the past . . . Mr. Axl Rose. “I figured thirteen years was enough,” he deadpanned.

  True. It had been thirteen years since we last spoke.

  We began texting each other. A lot. It was really cool. It made me feel important. Because nobody had any idea what Axl had been up to for well over a decade now.

  I always have wondered, what does that say about me? I guess it’s a testament to our friendship years before. Maybe he could relate to what I do, the way I can relate to what he does. Maybe it’s because I just treat him like a normal guy. Which not many people seem to be capable of doing.

  I was doing promotions for the SuperGroup television show and was making an appearance on the Q104 FM Friday Night Rock show. Also in attendance were Chris Jericho and Scott Ian. We were doing a standard interview. I was texting Axl while we were on the air. Everybody was blown away. Especially the DJ.

  Axl texts to me, “What you doing?” I told him I was on the radio right there and then. I started getting texts from Beta and her son Fernando, Axl’s assistants. “Yeah? Is it cool?” I told them, “Yeah. We’re just shooting the shit live on the air. Getting ready to wrap it up. Having a couple of drinks. Come on down!!” Incredibly, Axl said, “Maybe I will.” I thought nothing of it. I told everyone there that he was saying he was going to come down, but even I myself did not believe that to be true. There was no way he was going to show up at the station. It was one in the morning. We had been on the air for hours. We were getting ready to split.

  Just before we were about to all go home, I looked up at the security cameras which were focused on the lobby down below. There was a sudden burst of activity on the street level. I saw the security guards and other people rustling around a couple of other, unseen people. Three or four figures burst out of the melee and walked with intent towards the elevator.

  Could it really be?

  And then, through the door, there he was. For the first time in well over a decade, I saw my friend again. He had come to be part of an interview that is now the stuff of legend. It was incredible to see him again, for the first time in so long.

  Thus began a rekindling of our friendship that proved to be extremely helpful to my solo career. Axl does not let many people into his world. But when he does, he treats you like family and is as generous and giving as can be. He began inviting me to cities around the globe, to jam with him onstage at the end of Guns N’ Roses shows. I would get a call and it would say: “Baz, get to JFK. You have a First Class ticket to Dortmund, Germany. You’re going to be on stage with Guns N’ Roses in 12 hours at Rock AM Ring in front of 70,000 people. Get your ass to the airport.” The expense and effort he would go to, just to have me sing one song with him in a foreign country, was astonishing to me.

  One night, at Castle Donington in England, the insanity was palpable in the air. Axl had been late going to some of his shows and his then-manager, Merck Mercuriadis, pleaded with me in any attempt, however vain, to somehow get him to the stage on time. Axl’s vocal warm-up, even in 2006, was on a cassette. Even with the advent of recordable CDs, and by that time digital music players, the biggest rock star in the world was warming up his voice to a cassette. There was no cassette player in the hotel room that day. Merck and Fernando were frantically scouring the local area around the hotel for an analog cassette player, to no avail.

  Somehow a tape player was located and the show went on. We all took a helicopter to the concert site. We were late for the show and the crowd was restless.

  Axl’s friend, a girl named Diane from New York, was on the side of the stage. Her fun, happy demeanor changed when she, along with everyone else, felt the crowd turn a black mood. Axl came onstage, only to stop the show after a couple of songs due to the stage being slippery. He refused to go back on until it was made “safe,” and he would not slip, while performing. Diane burst into tears as the crowd started to boo. I told her th
is was all part of rock ’n’ roll. She did not understand how heavy this shit could get. Having been on the road with Axl Rose for decades now, I fully understood the volatility and intensity of how the situation could get. Diane didn’t understand that Guns N’ Roses fans expected danger.

  The band went back onstage and finished the show. Near the end of the set, bass player Tommy Stinson took his instrument off and proceeded to smash a cameraman over the head who got too close to him near the front of the stage. The cameraman was part of the GNR crew and did not understand why he was being attacked for simply doing his job. Tommy was so drunk, I bet he didn’t even know he was attacking his own employee.

  The show finished. Axl was in a rotten mood. “Come on. With me. Right now.” He demanded that I get on the helicopter with him and Diane. He was so mad at Merck, that he refused to let him on the helicopter ride back home. Merck was completely incensed that Axl would take me on the helicopter, instead of him. He was left to drive hours back in a car, along with the 70,000 or so concertgoers, the considerable distance back to London from the Donington festival site.

  We took off in the helicopter back to London. Axl was in foul spirits and refused to put his seat belt on. I had been drinking and I had a pretty good buzz on by now. Axl was despondent about the show, and kept talking about how bummed out he was and what a shit mood he was in. His hand fidgeted nervously on the door handle of the helicopter. I looked at him, thinking to myself, Oh my God. He is going to open up the door and jump right the fuck out of here. To his death. It’s up to me to save him. I spent the rest of the flight with my eyes affixed to his every movement. Like a laser beam. I was not going to let my friend die. Axl was just crazy enough to make me think this was a possibility.