B004FEF6RO EBOK

by Wylde, Zakk

  Enclosed is a copy of their debut album, Satanic Placenta, released in February on Dipshit Records. Also enclosed is a copy of a recent review of that album, as a testimony to the band’s most excellent sound.

  I am writing to see if you would consider having Satan’s Left Ball open for Black Label Society either on the Berzerkus tour or in the future, in the U.S. or overseas. Satan’s Left Ball plays all of their shows with the same passion and fury that I have witnessed from BLS.

  Satan’s Left Ball is in preproduction for their follow-up album, which will also be released on Dipshit Records. We are currently in negotiations for a major-label distribution deal that would put this album in Best Buy, Wal-Mart, and Target stores among others as well as all digital outlets including iTunes and Xbox Live (Rock Band video game download!).

  I hope you like what you hear, Zakk, and if we can tour with Black Label Society please have someone contact me. I would like to send a limousine for you when Ozzfest comes to Baton Rouge to have you come by our studio to meet the band.

  Regards,

  Mike Hunt

  Senior VP of Douchebaggery

  Dipshit Records

  Baton Rouge, LA

  It just doesn’t fucking work this way. Your letter should describe how great your band is, how the Rolling Stones actually opened for you, how your music will save people’s marriages, reseed their balding heads, and gain them passage to all fruitful things to come in the afterlife. I mean, if they don’t know who the fuck you are, at least they’ll have a good time reading a bullshit promotional letter instead of lumping you in with every other asswipe in the mix. If you go the route of the letter above, you might as well be selling carpet shampoo or a better scooper for getting cat shit out of the litter box.

  To help you out, because I appreciate the dough you spent on this book, I’ve taken the time to devise a letter for you that I, if I were nineteen and in a band trying to make it in the music biz, would send out. Remember, show your enthusiasm and don’t hold back.

  DEAR MR. RECORD COMPANY,

  I hope this letter reaches you with urgency, as it is about to save your life. At this time I recommend that you completely isolate yourself from anything else that may distract you and then sit your ass down, fucker, and finish this letter.

  If you haven’t heard of the band I manage and front, Black Label Society, you probably spend most of your time practicing flexibility so that you can learn to blow yourself like Ron Jeremy, rather than keeping your ear close to the Metal scene. And for that I commend you. There are only two achievements in this life that will elevate your soul to the highest level: being able to blow yourself (thus eliminating any reason for dealing with a nagging girlfriend or wife) and signing my Metal band, Black Label Society. And since you probably don’t have the yoga skills to make the first happen, you better check out my band—we are fucking awesome.

  Black Label Society has sold more singles and albums than the Rolling Stones and the Beatles combined. Our band has sold out arenas in dozens of countries that we’ve never even been to or even heard of. Who gives a fuck where Kuala Lumpur is, as long as the ticket sales are through the roof, right? Our band is literally top-shelf, annihilating all other bands, and the potential of this Metal Machine is so powerful that if you sign us, it will save your marriage, raise your IQ by fifty points, give you superhuman strength, and basically make you more powerful than you could possibly imagine. The moment we ink the deal, God himself will send down a choir of angels to celebrate the occasion. Once again, we are fucking awesome.

  I thought I knew excitement when my wife gave birth to our first child, but it paled in comparison to when I first heard our demo. We are fucking awesome. Becoming a born-again Christian was also a powerful day in my life, but again, by no means did it deliver the excitement and energy I received after first hearing our full-length debut album. We are fucking awesome. I mentioned earlier our record sales. Well, that offering was produced on a four-track recorder in our garage. As you can imagine, only great things will come if you invest in the future of this band, which you should sign to your label, because we are fucking awesome.

  I’m including a CD for your listening pleasure. You may want to be in a private room when you listen. Why? Because we are fucking awesome.

  Don’t blow it like the idiots who passed on the Rolling Stones and the Beatles. This band is going to be the next big thing and if you don’t realize it now and sign us, your life is going to be a miserable sack of shit. For all of the dipshits who missed out on signing Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath: Well, here is your one chance for redemption … possibly even salvation.

  If you decide not to sign us, you have no business being in the music industry; you don’t know what you’re doing or how to run a record company. At this point you really ought to start thinking about stepping off the top of a skyscraper or tying a side of beef to your back and sleeping with my wife.

  Don’t fuck it up. Don’t make a decision that will end up with our knocking your fucking teeth out.

  By the way—we are fucking awesome.

  You’re welcome.

  Zakk Wylde

  Black Label Society

  SDMF

  I doubt any letters ever went out from Guns N’ Roses or Van Halen before they got signed. Trust me, when the A & R reps went out to the clubs in Hollywood to see Guns for the first time, they were blown away by the band and the energy of the show. It was a lot like the first time I slept with Barb—she said to me, “My God, you are amazing!”

  “I know,” I told her, “Julie, Jessica, Susan, and Mr. Sinatra all said the same thing.” Not the real Sinatra, my next-door neighbor Steve Sinatra—he couldn’t hold a tune to save his life, but he gave a hell of a blow job.

  Back to Guns N’ Roses.

  Their band was undeniable, and the record labels were scrambling to sign them. Trust me, GNR wasn’t auditioning for anybody. They were amazing before they were signed. Same went for Van Halen; those guys were killing it on the Sunset Strip and had their pick of labels. If anything, there was a bidding war to sign them. When you’ve got great songs, are successfully building a following, and are packing the clubs, you’re good to go. Keep doing what you’re doing. Once again, all you should be worried about is promoting and pushing the band forward. Get your gigs, your merch, a van, a U-Haul, some friends as Doom Crew guys—and off you roll. With me, it’s not Black Label 24/7—it’s 25/8, 366 days a year, and fuck taking weekends off. God’s day isn’t just Sunday—it’s every day.

  From One Record Label to the Next

  BY BARBARANNE WYLDE

  IT’S SO AMAZING HOW THE MUSIC INDUSTRY IS PERCEIVED before you make it and how it actually operates. You would think of this massive company of savvy music listeners who know all the players, bands, and everything else there is to know in order to make their acts successful. For years, Zakk and I had these preconceived notions about which record labels would be the best for Zakk, and later just watched as their disappointing realities unfolded. When we signed with “Record Label X,” we thought we had actually reached Valhalla.

  Many years prior, when Zakk was doing Pride & Glory, we were with Geffen Records, whom we had been so excited about. We ended up getting kicked off that label in a short amount of time. After that, we went down a long, winding road of the most independent of independent record labels and back again. So by the time we got to “Record Label X” we were completely excited and felt that they were a killer label for Zakk’s music and had an A & R guy who was really into what we were doing. It was a great situation all around, or so we thought.

  One day during those recording sessions, Zakk was in the studio playing back some of the recorded tracks for the record label executives who had flown in from the East Coast to hear the new material. In walked this A & R girl, a totally cute rocker chick who looked the part and gave off the vibe that she knew what was up. She zipped right over to Zakk and said, “Oh my God, this is so cool! I’m so e
xcited! I have loved you since you were in Black Sabbath.”

  Zakk, mostly preoccupied by the music being played back through the mixing console, reached over the board and lowered the volume. Then he turned to me and asked, “Did she just say that I was in Black Sabbath? Whatever, Black Sabbath, Black Label Society, maybe she just slipped up,” returning his attention to the music.

  I walked over to the not-so-savvy rocker chick and said, “You know, Zakk was in diapers when Black Sabbath was formed. Zakk played with Ozzy Osbourne. But we love Black Sabbath too,” trying to lighten the mood. The other A & R guy was looking at me like he couldn’t believe what she had just said. He and I both knew that if you catch Zakk in the wrong moment, he’s not always that funny person we all know and love, if you know what I mean. Things could get heated and ugly in a heartbeat.

  Once again, she opened her mouth and said, “Zakk, I gotta tell you, I fucking love ‘Crazy Train’! That fucking guitar solo you do in that song is so mind-blowing, it’s one of my favorite songs and also a really great pop song.” This time Zakk turned the volume down and looked over at her.

  “That would happen to be Randy Rhoads,” he replied in a silly and sarcastic voice, fucking with her because she obviously didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. He turned back to the speaker monitors and rolled the volume up even louder than before.

  I looked at our manager, Bob Ringe, and the label manager and said, “Is one of you guys gonna take this girl off the project or am I going to? Which one of us is going to tell her to get the fuck away from us? Because in about two minutes I’m gonna kick this chick to the curb!”

  Zakk leaned over to me and said, “Sweetie, she would be perfect for our threesome.”

  I just looked at him and thought to myself, “Why would I want to share her with you?” and then kneed him in the balls, fisted his prostate, and went right back to my managerial duties.

  The A & R guy looked at me and said, “Barbaranne, I have to apologize for her. She is really good at what she does. However, I was told that when she worked at another record label, they were repackaging the Jimi Hendrix collection and she literally asked what hotels Jimi preferred to stay at so she could book his travel arrangements.”

  When we got back home, Zakk said, “Barb, this record isn’t gonna make it anywhere with these guys.” And off we went to yet another label. It’s always the same in this business—one step forward, ten steps backward, and it never ends.

  Note from Zakk: Don’t let Barb fool you. She went for the threesome. And it was more of a palming, caressing, and fondling of my balls than a knee. Her fist in my prostate? Yeah, that happened. Twice.

  Remember—don’t waste your time on frills and creative packaging that will make an impression. I highly doubt the Beatles sent out their demo tapes with a strip-o-gram or that Led Zeppelin packaged their demo in a sugar-cube castle with jujubes and gumdrops. Sure, sending your demo around the neck of a grizzly bear will make a lasting impression, but probably not the one you’ll want to be known for, as the bear will devour the bloody entrails of the record executive who you were hoping would notice your band.

  This brings us back to the question of “Who has the time to sit around listening to crappy demos all day?” No one I’ve ever come across in this business. Trust me. I’ve done what doesn’t work. I’ve sent the demos and the letters and everything, and it’s a complete waste of time, and I’m sure you’ll agree that your girlfriend could be using her tongue in a lot better ways than licking postage stamps and envelopes. Instead of spending your energy killing trees and clogging up the postal system, the best thing to do is get your band together, write great music, promote the hell outta your band using the Internet and word of mouth, and get out there on the road and play for as many people as possible. It speaks volumes when people come to see your show and you kick the living shit out of their ears and blow their fucking minds. Of course this is all hard work, and not every musician has the intestinal fortitude to hit things that hard, but if you’re going to succeed, you’ve got to man up, or as I like to say, Black Label/Patton up. Just look at it this way: For every guy who says, “My girlfriend/wife told me it’s either her or the music,” or who sells his guitar and goes for a shitty day job he fucking hates to get a steady paycheck—fuck them. Don’t feel any sympathy for those motherfuckers. They ain’t lions. And it just leaves more room for you and your band to rule the fucking world. In the immortal words of Saint Bon Scott:

  Playin’ rock ’n’ roll…

  Gettin’ robbed, gettin’ stoned, gettin’ beat up,

  broken boned

  Gettin’ had, gettin’ took, I tell you, folks…

  It’s harder than it looks

  Life is tough. That’s a good thing. It weeds out all the weak-willed motherfuckers. In Black Label, our motto is: Life is tough. Start eating nails for fucking breakfast. And right after a nice healthy bowl of nails, I lie down for a nappy while Barb rubs my tum tum. Then I take a shit and she glues my ass back together.

  General Patton—Born in 1885 and passed away in 1945, General George S. Patton Jr. fought in World War I and later commanded corps and armies in North Africa and Europe during World War II. He played a major part in saving a boatload of American and Allied soldiers at the Battle of the Bulge. His nickname was Old Blood and Guts. How much more Berzerker can you get than that?

  Another general and good friend of Patton’s was asked what he remembered most about George. He replied, “He’d rather fight than eat.”

  Basically, the complaint department was eternally closed and Patton expected everyone to live, breathe, eat, and bleed for the cause, just as he did. He didn’t just walk the walk, he backed up all and everything that he said, and even more. General George S. Patton is a huge fan favorite within the Black Label Order and an inspiration to how we run our musical military operations. Black Label is much more than a band—it’s a mentality. Life is war. Face your fears and accept your war. Black Label/Patton up and destroy life’s mountains of adversity. Remember, life and victory are for the brave and the strong, not the timid and excuse-riddled weak—JD.

  State of the Black Label Nation

  I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR A WHILE NOW THAT I’M NOT IN THE BUSINESS OF making records anymore. Nowadays for bands, it’s about their live performances and selling T-shirts. On one hand, the days of Appetite for Destruction are over. But at the same time, it gives the bands and artists so much more control than ever before. Today, bands are literally their own bosses, which is pretty cool. You don’t have to worry about not getting signed to Atlantic Records if you’re twenty-nine years old and conceding to the fact that the dream is over. Fuck that.

  You can make your own records, put them on the Internet along with your T-shirts and whatever other cool stuff you come up with, and sell it all from the garage of your house—or your mom and dad’s for that matter. So there are no excuses as to why you didn’t get signed to Interscope Records or whatever. Today, you can make a good living playing your music, with your vision, through live shows and the Internet. I have friends who couldn’t stand their miserable jobs and now make a living selling stuff on the Internet, and love doing it. They’re now their own bosses.

  Your success is dependent on your own work ethic. There’s no blaming anyone at the record company for fucking up your vision or not promoting your record right.

  As far as all that shit that went down with Napster, their saying fuck Metallica for being greedy multimillionaires and that music should be free: Hey, douchebags, there was a point in Metallica’s career when they were all eating out of fucking garbage cans, with twelve of them piling into one van and playing in front of maybe eight people. Why are they millionaires? Because they worked their fuckin’ balls off for every goddamn penny they earned back then. These guys underwent a multitude of ass reamings before they became the gigantic machine of today. They weren’t being fucking greedy. They were actually sticking up for the entire world of baby
bands so that they don’t get ripped the fuck off! In fact, it would have been easier for them to say, “We’re fine. We’re making millions.” Instead, they stuck up for all the little guys and the rest of the industry so that they wouldn’t get screwed.

  World Tour Survival Technique: Making the Doughnuts

  ONCE THE RECORD COMES OUT, IT IS TIME TO HIT THE ROAD AND GET the word out. I love hanging at Black Label family meet ’n’ greets. Me and the rest of my Black Label brethren get to chill with our entire extended family—all the Berzerkers and Berzerkerettes. It’s one big Black Label dysfunctional but loving family gathering.

  The advice I always give bands that are starting out is to change their birth names to something more rockeresque, spend all their money on the tightest designer jeans they can find, and invest in a few cases of Aqua Net professional hair spray. And if there’s any change left in the piggy bank after the new threads—eye shadow and condoms. It’s solid decision-making skills like these that will keep your Metal machine moving forward.

  Once you’ve handled your business, then focus on building a following doing live shows, and then handle all your own merchandise. These are the two areas where bands can make the money they need to record more songs and help pay for the costs of touring, whether it be going out on weekends in a van with all the guys or taking a road trip to play some shows. It’s completely hands-on and whoever works the hardest will succeed. Everyone has got to start somewhere. Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, Eddie Van Halen, and Randy Rhoads didn’t wake up and become the gods that we’ve all come to love today. They each picked the guitar up, practiced, and got better and better and better. When your band starts out, you may be playing in front of eight people, and then there are ten, then twenty, then fifty, then a hundred. What I’m saying is that just like a plant, if you keep watering it, it keeps growing. And I say the same thing with my cock—the more Viagra I throw into it, the bigger it gets, and the more Barb moans and tells me, “It feels like child-birthing when you pound me into realms of pleasuredom that I’ve never experienced before. Give it to me balls deep.” Okay, you get the idea—just do the same thing, but with your band.