We got back to the hotel, which happened to be the Mandarin Oriental, on London’s prestigious West End. Sat down at the bar downstairs and started inhaling bottles of red wine. Axl started getting into a good mood. The waitress approached us. “Hi! Axl! Sebastian! Do you know who is sitting over there?” she whispered to us. We both shook our heads. “Jon Bon Jovi.” I couldn’t believe it.
Jon and I had had a falling-out about Skid Row royalties back in 1990. We traded barbs in the press. I said some extremely immature things that I had regretted years later. Jon took a chance on me, and our band. I had achieved the impossible, which was to make a living playing the music I love. At the end of the day, I will always be indebted to him for that.
Fuck it, I thought. I stood up and walked over to Jon. He looked up from his glass of wine and stared at me. What was I gonna do? He was trying to read me. Was I going to be cool? Was I going to be a dick? The ball was in my court.
Maybe it was the wine talking. I had no desire to quarrel with him, or anybody at that moment. I stretched out my arm and we shook hands. Jon stood up. “Hey man!” We hugged each other like old friends. Which we were.
I invited him over to Axl’s table and we all sat down. The Italian wine flowing, we discussed the business of rock ’n’ roll, what we were all doing. Axl had told me he admired Jon’s business acumen. We talked about the tour and had a great conversation. At one point, I congratulated Jon on his latest single, which was a country crossover track called “Who Says You Can’t Go Home.” It was a hit, and based on that, I congratulated Jon on his success. Jon said “thanks a lot” and looked over at Axl. Axl did not say a word.
The next day, I was with Axl. “Hey man! That was really cool of you to congratulate Jon on the success of his song!!” Axl turned to me and snapped. “I never fucking congratulated him on the success of his fucking song! That was you! I never said anything! I never said that!!” Evidently, Axl wasn’t a fan of the song.
One night we went out to dinner. Italy, I think it was. Axl had invited the whole band and the whole crew to a posh Italian eatery. I was very excited to be there. He was seated at the head of the table. I was in the middle. Of everybody else.
“Hey Axl! I’m on this TV show, man! It’s fucking crazy!” This was after SuperGroup had finished filming, but before it aired. The show was a lot more fun to film than it was to watch.
I excitedly blabbered on to Axl. “You know what dude? I got paid X amount of money. For only two weeks’ work!! You know what?? I guarantee, if they would pay me that much, they would definitely pay you, I dunno, like a million dollars!!!” Axl looked at me with a steely glare. Rolled his eyes. He was not impressed. “Sebastian. You don’t understand. I will pay VH1 1.5 million dollars . . . to leave me the fuck alone.”
You could hear a pin drop in the restaurant.
I don’t think you’ll be seeing the Axl Rose VH1 reality show anytime soon.
One night at the Hammerstein Ballroom, in New York City, Kid Rock and myself are jamming with Guns N’ Roses. Jimmy Fallon was there, along with cast members from The Sopranos. It was on this night where I met the second manager of my career, Mr. Rick Sales.
Making Metal Dreams Come True
There he was, backstage with us. Looking like a heavy metal Jack Nicholson, hanging out and watching the GNR show. I had only ever had one manager in my life, Doc McGhee. Along with Doc’s brother Scott, they were the only guidance I had ever had in the music industry, up until the time I met Rick Sales. I have been working with Rick ever since that day. Rick Sales and his team have put me to work consistently since then. My co-manager Ernie Gonzalez helps Rick navigate the madness. I had already started recording the album Angel Down when Rick became my manager. He started guiding my career right as I was recording Angel Down and right before the show SuperGroup started airing on TV.
It’s absolutely essential to have a manager in the entertainment industry. With rock ’n’ roll, Broadway, television, recording, and touring, it became impossible for me to manage my career by myself in any way. Rick also taught me one valuable lesson . . . about saying “no.” No more tribute records for $700 on a Saturday afternoon. I was amazed that people rarely accept no for an answer. Much like the time I turned down Rocky Horror on Broadway, I learned that saying “no” is one of the most important parts of this industry.
We continued recording the album with producer Roy Z, at the legendary Sound City Studios in North Hollywood. The same Sound City that Dave Grohl made that movie about. I had never been in a studio like this. Basically the biggest difference about Sound City was its lack of automation. Even on the first Skid Row album, back in 1989, when we wanted to hear a song playback, producer Michael Wagener could program the faders for a rough mix each time we listened back. Volume levels, EQ levels, would all change in real time, on the fly, via the computer-automated system. Sound City had no such automation. Every time we would record a song, I would ask Roy Z to hear it back, and he would say, “Dude, this isn’t a mixing studio.” We were there just for recording, not mixing or even playback. We had to go to another studio for that.
I must admit listening back, you can feel the power and the vibe of Sound City on the album Angel Down. After my first solo record, Bring ’Em Bach Alive! on Atlantic Records, this was a big deal to me. My very first all-studio solo record. With Steve DiGiorgio, Bobby Jarzombek, Metal Mike, and Johnny Chromatic, my live band, we went in there and knocked out a record that has lasted the test of time along with the classic Skid Row CDs from years ago.
On a whim, I asked Axl Rose to sing on the record with me. I had sung the song “Sorry” on the Guns N’ Roses record Chinese Democracy in New York City at Electric Lady. So, kind of joking around, I said, “Hey! Axl! When are you gonna sing on my record?”
“Where? When?” I couldn’t believe his reply.
Neither could the record company. After all was said and done, they wanted to release two versions of Angel Down. One with just me singing on the record, and one with Axl and me both. I told them politely to go fuck themselves. This was my record. Take it or leave it. Yes, Axl is my friend. But Axl Rose’s voice is one of the most defining, intense, and badass-sounding instruments in the whole world of rock ’n’ roll. To have the sound of his voice, alongside mine, on my record, would be incredible to listen to for me and the fans.
The first song we cut was a cover of the Aerosmith track “Back in the Saddle.” The screams that Steven Tyler hits, with such range and force, on the original Rocks album recording has always set the bar for any heavy metal screamer. It was a complete gas to scream as high and as loud as we could. Axl said he had always wanted to sing that song. I did too. Roy Z came up with the idea, and we created a heavy metal–blues scream jam that kicks ass along with the best of ’em. Joey Kramer told me he heard our version, and that he loved it. If the drummer from Aerosmith digs the track, that’s good enough for me. Thank you, Joey!
The second track we cut was the first single from the album (Love Is) A Bitch Slap. A mean riff, over a fun, cowbell-driven rhythm, the track got a really cool write-up in Rolling Stone magazine: “refreshing to hear Axl Rose with a band and a song as lean and as mean as this.” You’re welcome, Rolling Stone and Planet Earth.
But my favorite collaboration between me and Axl on the Angel Down record is the song “Stuck Inside.” This riff and monstrous groove contrast perfectly with the verses, which are clean and cool. The harmonies in the choruses are challenging. The middle of the song, where Axl comes in and wails, is possibly the most heavy metal moment I have ever heard Axl Rose sing since “My Michelle” back on Appetite for Destruction. The final chorus of the song builds into Axl hitting the top of his vocal range and beyond. I love this track and still play it live to this day.
The night Axl came down to record was legendary. I still really didn’t believe he was going to sing on my record. Sure enough, at about midnight, he pulls up in a sports car outside the dingy little recording studio we had rented ou
t for vocal overdubs. This was in a rough part of North Hollywood, and we actually got orange traffic pylons to surround his car so nobody stole it while we were session.
After “Back in the Saddle” and “(Love Is) A Bitch Slap,” we had been rocking a couple hours. We had some Francis Ford Coppola Red wine floating around. We’re smoking some pretty good weed. He was about to split after “Bitch Slap,” but I was dying to hear him scream over the “Stuck Inside” riff. “Axl. Can you please just do one more?”
“What the fuck? I’ve been screaming all fucking night.”
“Dude, come on. Just one more?”
He looked at me and said, “All right, fuck it,” came into the studio, and asked for my silver briefcase. Sat down, wrote some words. Got up, went back behind the mike, and proceeded to kick some holy motherfucking ass on the track.
The fan favorite from the album Angel Down has got to be the song “American Metalhead.” An extremely challenging song to sing, along with the song immediately following it, called “Live and Die.” Along with “Negative Light,” these are the most heavy metal songs I feel I’ve ever recorded. “American Metalhead” remains in the live set almost a decade later. The riff is immediate. The groove, punishing. We change the name of the song to suit whatever country we’re playing that night. The place goes nuts when we rip into “Polynesian Metalhead.” Or “Norwegian Metalhead.” “Brazilian Metalhead.” What have you.
One song on the record is called “By Your Side.” A ballad that I wrote with Roy Z about the death of my father, the song has become a fan favorite, especially in South America, where it receives substantial airplay on the radio. Another song, called “Falling into You,” is my only recorded piano ballad. I wrote this song with Desmond Child, at the behest of Jason Flom years ago, the song finally making it to the recording studio during the Angel Down sessions.
Despite the incredible production by Roy Z, amazing mastering by Tom Baker, and the legendary Axl Rose on three songs, the album did not sell as many copies as I thought it was going to during the first week of release. In my delusional mind, I just figured it would be a number-one record like Slave to the Grind was. I truly believe that the solo records I put out sound just as good in every way as the original Skid Row records. But we live in a different time. The advent of the Internet, streaming services, torrents, and downloads have completely changed what it means to be in a rock ’n’ roll band today. But at the time of the Angel Down release, I still did not fully realize how different things worked. Call it a very rude awakening.
I was on the road on a radio tour across the country, promoting the record. In a car, traveling from morning radio station to morning radio station. In my mind, I figured if I do an interview on the morning show, the station will add my single into rotation. Of course, this never once happened. I was brought onto the morning radio station shows as a celebrity. Could’ve been Pauly Shore. Could’ve been Mr. T. Making an appearance on a morning radio station does nothing for a music career anymore. Yes, they will play Skid Row songs all day. But much like Nikki Sixx has said, and Ian Astbury, Joe Perry, Steven Tyler, we’re all in the same boat. Radio will not play any new song by any band that actually helped build the radio station. It’s boring and it makes no sense whatsoever. But it’s out of my control. All I can do is keep my head down and rock.
Being a guest on a morning radio show can be humiliating. Sure it can be fun, but a lot of the time you get the old “here’s the dude from the hair band with the hairspray, it’s back to the eighties, the spandex, get out the Aqua Net, get out your hair dryers and lipstick.” I wanted to fucking smack idiot DJs who talked to me in this way. When I pull up to a gig, and I see on the marquee that I’m playing at the World Series of Hair or SpandexFest, it makes me want to physically vomit. It’s so easy to just call something rock ’n’ roll. The term hair band was invented in the late ’90s for an infomercial record, I think it was Freedom Rock, dude. The term hair band did not exist when we were in Skid Row. If it did, I wouldn’t have ever wanted to be in a hair band. All I have ever considered myself is rock ’n’ roll, and that’s all I ever will be.
After pointless morning radio show interviews talking about the old days and hair spray, not getting my song added into rotation, it became evident to me I was there for comic relief as much as anything else. That’s not the reason I was traveling around the country. I started drinking very heavily the week when I found out Angel Down wasn’t the number-one smash hit I expected it to be. After my morning radio press, I would go to the nearest bar and start drinking at about noon. Then we would drive to the next town. I feel sorry for Kyle, the record company guy who accompanied me that week. I was most definitely not fun to be around.
The record company that released Angel Down was simply not equipped in any way to deliver a Top 10 record. The unpronounceable name of Merovingian Music, run by by buddy Jack Ponti from New Jersey, put the album out. Distributed by Caroline Records, I should have known that this was not Universal, or Atlantic, or Geffen. This was MRV Records and I was lucky to be putting CDs out. The fact was that MRV and Caroline Records could not compete with major labels and their distributors.
In my drunken, deluded mind, I began to lash out. “You motherfuckers!! I gave you all the return of Axl Rose! I give you this incredible album on a silver platter!! And you fuck it all up!! What the fuck?” I would drunkenly yell at anybody who would listen. On one drive to a town on the radio station tour, I played the song “If You Want Me to Stay,” by Sly & The Family Stone, on repeat for at least three hours. While I sat in the backseat, drinking myself into a stupor.
If you want me to stay
I’ll be around today
to be available for you to see.
But I’m about to go
And then you’ll know
For me to stay here I got to be me.
I looked up into the rearview mirror. Kyle, the record company guy, was looking back at me. Literally frightened at my sadness. I felt sorry for him. I can’t stop playing the song. I just wanted the pain to stop.
We got to my last interview, at The Bone radio station in Houston. I entered the control booth where the two DJs were seated. There was an empty seat for me in front of the microphone. The video camera was placed to film me while I did the interview. For the whole Internet to see, they had placed a giant Skid Row poster so I would be surrounded by my old bandmates who had kicked me out of their band years before. This did not excite me in any way. As I walked into the radio station, I walked over and picked up the poster, and turned it around so that it was a blank sheet of cardboard.
This pissed off the DJs. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I’m not here to talk about the old days. Talking about the old days is fucking boring to me.”
“What do you mean? You don’t want to be associated with a platinum-selling band? That’s Skid Row?”
“The only time they were ever a fucking platinum-selling fucking band was when I was singing the fucking songs. I have a new record out and that’s why I flew here. You want to fucking talk about that?”
Gee, this interview is off to a great start.
Flew back to New Jersey after the Houston interview. I got completely shit-faced drunk the whole plane ride there.
Not an Anomaly
2009
Garden State Parkway, New Jersey
Drivin’ down the road doing 95 miles per hour.
Oh yeah.
Making my weekly jaunt to the local record store to pick up some new music. I’m all excited, because today is the day the brand-new Ace Frehley CD is out. I can’t wait to pick it up. I’ve never missed any release by a KISS member, and this is no different. I can’t wait to check it out! I’m really hoping this will be a worthwhile, cool addition to my KISS collection. Ever since I was a little boy, I’ve looked forward to a day like this. Going to the record store, buying the latest album by my favorite band. Cracking open the release with my thumbnail. Opening it up. Lookin
g at the packaging. Putting it on the stereo, cranking the shit out of it. Checking out what is the scene now with my favorite artist. The new Ace album is out! It should be a national fucking holiday.
I’m driving my IROC, the one that I took to The Ace’s house so many moons ago. I even had him autograph the dashboard.
To Sebastian,
Rock on
Ace Frehley
In silver paint pen, on the vehicle. With KISS stickers on the side, as seen on MTV Cribs. After I sold my house, in 2015, the guy who bought it actually took my car, because it was on the property, and tried to charge me eight grand to get it back. Fuck you, motherfucker. You can fucking have the fucking car. The memories mean nothing to me now. Drive it up your fucking asshole. Oh wait. It doesn’t work. Ooops! How did that work out for you?
But I digress. I’m wheeling around in the IROC, up and down the parkway. Crack open the new Ace CD. Put it in the player. The one with the flexible, bendy arm that I bought in 1990, when having a CD player in your car was like a new kind of space-age like technology. The bendable flexing arm let the IROC careen at extreme, fast speeds. With its little-to-no suspension, I could crank tunes without skipping. Let’s check out the Ace.
Rock ’n’ roll is a vicious game.
From the first chord of the first number, I cannot believe what I’m hearing. This is, without a doubt, the best Ace Frehley CD I have heard in years. Holy shit. I can’t fucking believe how heavy this music is. Cranking it down the highway, I’m going, Why is this so good? The power, aggression, attitude, playing was like nothing I had ever heard on an Ace record before.
18 and Life on Skid Row Page 29