Never in my life could I have envisioned meeting the love of my life, along with two boys who are so nice and fun to be around. I love my new sons so much. They make every day fun. I never understood the concept of being tied down by a family. Nobody will ever tie me down. I’d like to see you try.
Suzanne is so good for me in so many ways. When we’re on the road, at a restaurant, and I look across the room and people are filming us eat, I can turn into a real prick. Again, I am sorry for this. I just don’t particularly want to take a picture with my mouth open, a fork held up to my face, as pancakes and syrup drip down onto the plate. This is not a good look for me. Or for you either. Nothing personal.
Suzanne has known me longer than I’ve known her. In Arkansas, when she was a little girl, she had a Skid Row poster over her light switch on the wall. Suzanne would literally turn my switch on and off whenever she went into her bedroom. Her mom would do the same. Suzanne still switches me on and off, nightly. Sometimes in the morning, too.
When I blow up and throw a hissy little bitch fit, it’s Suzanne who says, “Hey dude. Chill the fuck out. These people are paying for those pancakes and syrup. They love you. You’re a lucky dude. You should be nice to everybody, no matter what.” I try to explain to her that I don’t like being filmed while we eat. Then, I give up. Because you know what?
She’s right.
My friend Fred Coury says, “There’s something about Sebastian. He can go through all sorts of crazy shit, be shot out of a cannon, and end up landing on his feet. With his hands in the air. Saying, ‘Hey!! What the fuck is up!?!?!?!’ ” When Fred came over to our new house, and he met my wife, his words to me were “FUCK YOU with this house, man!!!” All in good fun. But I do thank my lucky stars, and God above, or whatever it is that does see me through. Somehow. I have the most beautiful wife in the world, who loves me, a new family, a new home, and a new future. I am happy. Again. For the first time in a long, long time. What would I say is the biggest lesson I’ve learned in life? When you find true love, you better hold on to that. Don’t let go. There is no worse feeling than when love goes wrong. When your heart is broken. Because there is no better feeling in the world than being loved. Loving another. Having a partner in life. Someone to share experiences with.
We have as much fun as possible.
To me, that’s what life is all about.
You Are the Rock Star
After all the craziness, after all the mayhem, after all is said and done, I’m pretty sure I have this “Life” thing figured out now. My buddy Duff said recently, I’ve spent a lot of time walking into walls. Maybe it’s time for me to learn to walk around the wall.
Recently Scott Weiland died. On his tour bus. From cocaine. Cardiac arrest. Like Shannon Hoon, and so many before him. When I read back this book, I realize just how lucky I truly am. Just to be here to write this book. Just to be here at all.
I was with Scott Weiland not too long before he died, at my friend Donovan’s wedding. We sat down, and without speaking, for some reason burst into the song “Out of Time” by The Rolling Stones. That’s really weird we’re singing this song, I thought.
Baby baby baby you’re out of time . . .
And then he was.
I had recorded this song years ago, with Joey Ramone, for the Ramones’ album Acid Eaters. What led me and Scott Weiland to sing this song impromptu, out of nowhere, in the middle of a wedding, was something that struck me as odd when he passed away. I didn’t know him that well, but his death made me very sad. We are the same age.
Having adulation and attention from the public is what many people believe will make them happy inside. I certainly did, dreaming of being a rock star as a kid. However, being almost fifty years old now, it’s times with my wife and daughter, family times with my sons, Netflixing and chilling, that are among the activities that soothe me the most. The laughter of a child. If you have true love, trust, family, a beautiful partner to share your life with, then you are a rock star too.
The term rock star has changed so very much from when I was a teenager. Now, guys with computer programs, hedge fund managers, athletes, even presidents are called rock stars. “He was certainly the rock star in that debate,” you hear bandied about on FOX News. The term is actually the highest compliment one can give to another. To bestow the title of rock star, upon a football player for example, is the ultimate accolade one can give. How ironic it is, that real rock stars find it ironic to call themselves rock stars. “When I hear the term ‘one of the last remaining rock stars’ I think ‘one of the last remaining assholes,’ ” I’ve heard Dave Grohl (one of the last remaining rock stars) say. Well, it bugs me when a fucking dentist gets called a rock star. It bugs me when Kris Jenner calls Kim Kardashian a rock star. And it bugs me even more when Kanye West calls himself a rock star. Please. Perhaps you should learn how to sing or play an instrument before you give yourself the ultimate compliment that one can give.
This is all I have been told, pretty much my whole life. I hope this book explains a journey from childhood, to rock stardom, and back to family again. Yes, I have had a lot of fun. But at the end of the day, it’s the melodies, songs, music onstage, and in studio that lasts. Not the stories, not the self-destruction, not the fighting with other band members. When we are all dead and gone, none of that will matter. Yet, the music will live on. The music will play forever and ever. And that’s the thing. Music is so important to all of us. Music has been my life. Chances are, if you are reading this book, music plays a central part in your life as well. Music was central to my parents’ life. It’s my wife’s life. Our children are so enamored with music that it surrounds me at all times now. Our family likes to rock ’n’ roll all night, and party every day. And nobody can ever take that away from me.
Peace Amongst the Chaos
After a lifetime of touring the planet, with a bunch of sweaty, smelly dudes, nowadays I look at touring as a family activity. I like to have my wife and children with me as much as possible. That means, on the road, too. It’s called human nature. If the man loves a woman, and the man’s job is to play music around the world, I have realized the only way to keep the relationship going is to be together as much as possible. I really love touring the world with my wife by my side. We are so lucky to do this.
When I hear the audience go nuts and crazy for rock ’n’ roll, I still get chills on my arms, and go nuts and crazy along with them. The difference now is, after almost fifty years of volume and craziness, I enjoy just as much the peace, silence, and tranquility of a sultry summer night. I even listen to music at a quieter volume now. My doctor told me I need to do this at my age. And you know what’s amazing? I have discovered that I can hear even more in the music when I just turn it down a little. Wow! Turning it down? So I can hear it? Who knew?
An evening by the fire. As nuts as rock ’n’ roll is, I enjoy the quiet times equally now. I need to recharge my batteries after this crazy life. The energy you see onstage is real. When I’m done with the show, I have found I need balance in my life in order to continue.
I need peace amongst the chaos.
I need to rest my ears before I crank heavy metal. I need to rest my voice before I scream. I need to rest my body before I go on tour. I need to rest my mind before I go to sleep.
I love to make records. I am excited to make a new one. Writing this book has been cathartic, and has given me time away from the studio . . . to make me want to go back into the studio. I thank you for that.
I thank my children, Paris, London, Sebastiana, Presley, and Trace. We have been through so very much.
I wish I could be everything to you
but wishin’ won’t make it true
Now it’s time for good times. Love, smiles, and laughter. After everything we’ve been through, to see my kids smiling again, on the other end of the mayhem? Nobody is smiling more than me.
Most of all, I thank Suzanne. I have found true love. I have found the love of my life . . . and she
has given me a life that I love. And I love her for that. She is my best friend. She is my companion in this world. Not to mention, she is pretty easy on the eyes. I love you, Suzanne!!!!
She gives me the foundation and grounding I need. To do what I was put here to do.
To rock.
To scream.
To go wild.
She gives me the energy I need to bring the rock around the world . . . to you.
I thank every one of you for over thirty years of rock ’n’ roll. It’s all I ever wanted to do.
I needed to get some things off my chest.
April 14, 2016
Las Vegas, Nevada
T-Mobile Arena
Guns N’ Roses got back together again last night. Yes, I wrote and you read that correctly. Guns N’ Fucking Roses. The title of their tour is Not in This Lifetime and I can’t think of a better name. We were sitting at dinner at around 9:30 p.m., relaxing, after playing a show on our own the night before in Vegas. Talking at the dinner table, “Oh, this is so great!! I can’t believe, that for once, we just get to watch a show, be entertained, instead of entertaining everybody else!” Sometimes it feels too good to be lazy. And then, the text comes in.
“Stay alert! My Michelle. After Slash’s solo.”
Oh my God! We get to the gig, and sure enough, right before “My Michelle,” I am welcomed onto the stage by Axl, Duff, and Slash. Guns N’ Roses. Guns N’ Roses Reunion. To be part of this experience is hard to put into words. The only way I can think to describe it is two words.
Time travel.
What a concept. Who really gets to travel through time? Just the week before, we filmed a new episode of Gilmore Girls, for the first time in twelve years. Twelve years? What an incredible experience that was, as well. To go back on the set, and see all my friends—all the crew, the producers, directors, lighting guys, cameramen, they were all there. And when we shot the scene, it felt as if our legendary band, the mighty Hep Alien, had never even broken up.
What an amazing opportunity to have. Just to show up, all in the same room as individuals with whom you know you have chemistry. It’s almost as if time never passed.
EPILOGUE
HEY DUDE? WHEN ARE
YOU GETTING THE BAND
BACK TOGETHER?
2009
Bungalow 8, New York City
A hot New York City street night. Hanging out with Axl, after touring with GNR all over the place. He introduces me to this hangout called Bungalow 8 in the city. This fine establishment is named after the exact bungalow at Chateau Marmount that John Belushi died in, of a cocaine overdose, in 1982. It’s quite the hang. Full of models, actors, musicians all out looking for a good time.
One night, some mid-level executive from VH1 is present. I’m there with Axl just hanging out. Everybody wants to meet him. They think.
“Hey Axl, this is the Vice President of VH1!!!” He looks over at the VP, straight in the eye, who reaches out to shake his hand. Axl declines the handshake. Looking around the room, then directly back into the man’s eyes, he utters the immortal phrase:
“VH1? You guys have been fucking me around for a long time.” The the executive’s face turns a pallid shade of white, as he looks as if he’s been kicked directly in the nuts. It was hilarious. I think he cried.
Another night at the Bungalow, I run into my old good buddy Dave Bryan from Bon Jovi. I had not seen him in decades. We were hanging out, catching up, laughing and having a great time. I went over to his table, where he was sitting in a booth, with some other people. One guy in the middle of the table had a baseball hat on. With his head down, in the dark club, I did not recognize this person. But he recognized me. Dave Bryan noticed me coming up to the table.
“How’s it going, man?”
The guy next to him kept his head down as he started to talk. “Sebastian? Bach?” The man goes through a brief list of my dubious accomplishments—punching this person, insulting this person, breaking this person’s jaw, breaking this law in this state, etcetera. He keeps on referencing some of my more dubious offenses, some described in this very book, to the hilarity of all present at the table. Then all of a sudden, at the end of this humorous tirade, he looks up at me, finally, and says, “So! I got one question for you, and one question only, Mr. Sebastian Bach.
“WHY IN THE HELL AREN’T YOU IN JAIL RIGHT NOW??????”
Everybody laughs, and finally I recognize this man. One of my favorite actors of all time. Mr. Sean Penn. The reason I say Sean Penn is one of my all-time favorite actors is because in every role I ever see him in, never do I see Sean Penn. I see the role he is on the screen to play. He is so convincing in every movie I’ve seen him in that the characters he plays are 100 percent completely believable.
“Oh my God!! I just saw that movie you did, Milk!?!?! I really loved it, man!!! I couldn’t believe it! You kissed a dude!! That was heavy! Wow!!”
Everybody laughs. “Oh c’mon, admit it, Sebastian!! I made you uncomfortable because you liked it!!!!!” Everybody laughed some more. We decided to get a bottle of booze and go up to the private room upstairs, to hang out and shoot the shit.
As an actor who I constantly respected, I asked Sean how he knew everything he was saying at the table. Obviously a very serious rock ’n’ roll fan, he told me that he had followed my career since we first came onto the scene. We talked about our mutual love and respect for Axl Rose and Guns N’ Roses. “Yes, Sebastian. I have followed your career since you started. Getting into trouble . . . always with that face.” I just started to laugh. I could’ve said the exact same thing about him.
He asked me what I was up to and I had to go into the usual story of the breakup of Skid Row. I don’t even know if he knew Skid Row had even broken up. I tell him about Broadway, which was cool, and my solo career, which I thought was impressive. With his intense commitment, and belief in his acting roles, I thought he would understand and respect my situation in the music business. Which was being kicked out of the band I had helped make successful, and in some ways being forced into a solo career. I would not be the first one to try to get back with a band that had kicked me out. I had often used the analogy in the press. “If you got fired from your job at Pizza Hut, would you go begging for it back???” I thought he would laugh at this. His response was the opposite of what I was expecting.
Sean just shook his head.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Well, why would you not want to get the band back together?”
I explained to him, because of musical differences, personalities, he said this, I said that, blah blah blah blah. He just looked at me like he didn’t understand what I was saying. “I need to make the music I need to make. I need to make art that I believe in.”
“But Sebastian. You’re not understanding one simple thing.”
“What?”
“If all of you, the five original musicians in the original band, got back together on a stage? That would be the art . . . in and of itself.”
Now, it was my turn to not understand what he was saying. I thought it was all about the content. Not the form. Shouldn’t the music itself be more important than who I make the music with?
“The music you made with Skid Row was the music that touched the world. If you five got together again? I have been waiting for that. I would buy a ticket for that. I would come and see that.”
I was floored. I respected this actor more than I could put into words. And here he was, like the rest of the planet, all the press, pretty much everywhere I go, uttering the same familiar refrain.
“Hey dude? When are you getting the band back together?”
It will never cease to amaze me how much music means to all of us. In the fabric of our lives. It is without a doubt the most visceral art form. You can see a movie or television show and feel nostalgic and fuzzy and remember how you felt when you first watched it. But there is nothing like music to reactivate the feelings and memories of days gone by.
When you hear a song from your childhood, it’s astonishing how much do you feel inside just how you felt when you first heard it. It is an amazing mystery that we will never solve. And it never wears off. I go through periods of listening to different artists. When The Eagles’ documentary came out, I watched it over and over again. I was transfixed by the unbelievably kick-ass Mr. Joe Walsh. So what do I do? I go out and buy every single record he ever did. Without question. That’s how I listen to music. I can’t get enough of it. It’s always been like that.
I know our fans of Skid Row feel the same way I do. How could they not? So there is a goal for the future. How fun would it be someday to get together again? For the sake of rock ’n’ roll even. It’s not like there’s a lot of us left.
What would it take to get together again? First of all, we would need to be able to get together in the same room. Which we have not done in over twenty years. I know it’s crazy. That’s rock ’n’ roll.
I think this is the key to success. I think that if we could all stop insulting each other on the Internet, realize what our music actually means to the people’s lives who enjoy it, then maybe we could get back in the same room and see if there is a chance for this. To get the band back together, dude.
18 and Life on Skid Row Page 32