by Wylde, Zakk
That night Ed invited me and Barbaranne to the show and it was amazing. It was the first time I had actually seen him play live. His guitar solos were absolutely incredible, I mean all the chops, the tone, and everything was there that night. If you didn’t play guitar, after seeing Eddie throw down, you were instantly inspired to learn how to play. He proved, hands-down, why he is the one and the only—King Edward!
EPILOGUE:
One for the Road
Great Odin, hear my words of Praise and Thanks, for I am eternally blessed by Victory and with Family and with Brotherhood. I have seen thy visions, forged my steel, and called my arms. Your Berzerkers have laid siege to the World just as You bade me. And now my ranks rest, with knowledge I impart that soon enough the time shall come when we must take up arms and allegiance to your worship, smoldering the entrails of those who contest your sanctity and bonding by blood the almighty Order of the Black. For now we will enjoy the blessings of life, the loins of our women, and the warmth of our ale.
I swear to keep the edge of my axe sharp and the blade of my sword oiled and ready for war. I shall carry on my oath to the Children of Metal and bring to them the divine enchantments of Rock. And with haste I shall provide them with another text of Infinite Wisdom to enlighten their own paths to Valhalla!
Until you once more require my services in battle I shall enjoy my life, pondering your wisdom, atop mine own mountain, mine own Valhalla, and deeply plundering the pleasures of mine Immortal Beloved with the Crotchal Mjöllnir you have seen fit to bless me with! Hail Odin, great God of War and Metal!
I raise my glass in toast to you, Odin, and swear upon my sword to walk this earth a warrior, a harbinger of Metal, a Berzerker!
Note from Zakk: I gotta be honest with you—of all the musicians out there in the world, I’m just one of them. If you can make a living doing what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. And if you never have to read any of Father Eric’s waxing-poetic horseshit ever again, God bless you. With any luck, Father Eric’s next book will be an instruction manual on how to stick your peanut-butter-covered cock into a beehive, and we’ll just never hear from him again.
So there you it have it, my battle-ready brethren in Metal, a tried-and-true blueprint for ultimate conquest and certain victory, and hopefully a little inspiration from some of my favorite war stories! Just remember to follow your dreams and passions with a sense of purpose. Make sure your concept is meaningful, your music is honest, and your dedication is true. Work your fuckin’ balls off—and your ass and labia as well—and proudly carry your own set of colors into battle. Always remember the rules of the road, which I have laid out for you. Never get discouraged when things go wrong or take an unexpected turn, because you can bet that they will and you need to be able to adapt and solve problems, not freeze up like JD did when Barbaranne walked in on him conquering his wiener in the Pazuzu Loo.
You’ve got to shed blood to win a war. You have to bleed for it. This is the difference between being successful and not. Spilling your blood for your cause will keep your band from being one that experiences only moderate, short-lived success and one that stands the test of time and comes out with a lifelong career. Don’t let anyone else tell you what to play or write; that’s gotta flow from you naturally. If your sound is forced, then it just won’t be believable. Believe me… Even I’ve been in situations where I seriously questioned why the fuck I was playing something I didn’t have my heart in. But our band was being told by someone else that that’s what we should be doing to make our dreams come true. It happens to all of us somewhere along the way. Nip that in the shitter right now and keep your music honest.
From Zeppelin to Sabbath, Kiss to Poison, Metallica to Pantera and Slayer, all of these bands, and ones like them, truly love and believe in what they do, and that’s why they all made a success of themselves. The lesson to be learned from these bands is that regardless of anything, you have to believe in yourself and bleed what you do.
Build your own destroyer, take it out to sea, and annihilate everything in your path!
I hope that the knowledge I’ve imparted within these pages acts as some kind of lube to make things easier for you. Remember, you can be either laughing or crying when bullshit happens. Fuck crying, unless you’re JD. Before I leave you to the work at hand, of forging your own sound and cutting your own unique path, I want to leave you with one cautionary tale—one for the road.
It was about eight years ago, after a Black Label mass. I was relaxing on the bus, unwinding after the show. Some of the guys brought these two smokin’-hot chicks on board to party with the band. So I came up to the front of the bus to be social, grabbed a beer, and set the ladies up with some drinks.
The whole time they were just whispering and giggling, so I finally asked them what the fuck was so funny. They told me that, back in the day, they both had a huge crush on me. Back when I was first playing with Ozzy and had the big poofy fuckin’ hair. They were a bit younger than me, so when they told me they used to have pictures of me on their bedroom walls, I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course I made a goof out of it, but in my head I was thinking, “Yeah … I’ve still got it!” (As if I ever had it.)
They were still laughing. I asked them again what was going on. Now, remember, these girls were slammin’, and so when they told me, “We think you’ve got a fine ass, we’ve always thought you had a fine ass,” my head swelled with mightiness and pride.
“You know what we would do to you?” they said to me.
Then I was just waiting for the big pat on the back. I was expecting to hear something like, “We want to suck and fuck the living shit out of you right now,” or something to that effect. You know, the most insane Penthouse letter ever written—about me jackhammering them both into submission as I glue them to the ceiling with a mother lode of conquest—something only Peter North or a stable of steroidal horse cock would be capable of.
But what do I get? Me? The Al fuckin’ Bundy of Metal…
“We think your ass is so hot. We’d like to put on strap-ons and fuck you up the ass.”
So I did it. It actually hurt a little at first, but it reminded me of that deal I signed with Geffen Records. After they pulled out, it dawned on me—it couldn’t have been a request for me to dominate and bathe them in my conquest. No, instead these two beautiful young girls wanted to fuckin’ sodomize me! When people ask me if it’s hard to be faithful out on the road, I just tell them that horrible tale. I mean, with opportunities like that, I have no problem being faithful! Thank God I’m married, because if I was single I’d have to be celibate. But I guess that’s how it goes when one is keeping it intercontinental.
In this business, it seems everyone is trying to fuck you in the ass. At first I thought it was just the music attorneys and record labels, but later I found out that in this business, even your wildest sexual fantasies will turn on you and fuck you in the ass. It was just then, at that moment, I thought of changing my name to Snake River Canyon—as my ass was so gaping that even Evel Knievel couldn’t fucking jump over it.
Well, I guess it’s good-bye for now, my Black Label brethren. Remember to keep your fist raised high and your butt cheeks tightly clenched. Let the music you love guide you. Keep your eyes out for Black Label on tour, and we’ll see you crazy fuckers soon! Again, thanks for everything, you are the best family on the fuckin’ planet, and we appreciate you more than you know. In the end, we’re all headed up to God’s tavern, where the cocktails are overflowing, they’ve got the best jukebox in the universe, and we are all reunited as one massive Black Label family.
In the name of all that is pure, holy, sacred, and unlike JD … God bless.
Stay strong. Bleed Black fucking Label. And don’t fuck it up by going in heavy with the mustard.
Acknowledgments
MANY THANKS, AS ALWAYS…
God.
Society Dwelling Mother Fuckers Worldwide.
Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne—I love you b
oth always and beyond forever.
I would like to speak for my wife, Barbaranne, and thank me for all of the magickal years I have provided her with, as well as all of the incredible, pleasurable vagina-plowing and anus-stretching evenings of jackhammering her in the sack. She is eternally grateful to me for being bathed in her king’s conquest of love. You can thank me again after you read this—while you’re rubbing my feet.
I would also like to thank our children for having work ethics of doom, staying out of jail, and not being fuckups that would force me to start drinking again. Thanks for making me and your mother beyond-proud parents.
Father Chris Jericho for always being a great friend and Black Label brother. Thank you for your excellent hygiene, thus bringing balance and order to the world when we hang out, like yin and yang, peanut butter and jelly, donkeys and Tijuana hookers, or Pope John Paul II and Anton LaVey. By the way, Chris, you’re Anton—and the hooker. Love ya, buddy!
Bob Ringe, Jim Baltutis, Carise Yatter, and Darren Edwards for making it seem sensible for companies and promoters to pay me shitloads of money to do absolutely nothing.
The Black Label Society band and Doom Crew Inc. for keeping the Black Label Armada rolling.
Nick “E.T.” Catanese for being the Ronnie Wood of Black Label Society. Keef needs his Ronnie.
Phil “How Ya Doin’” Ciulo and Jeff “Grim Cracker” Graham for keeping the Black Label world a safer place.
Mark “Field General” Ferguson for your fearless General Patton leadership.
Keith “Moby” Lanoux for the best damn back-and-foot rub a Guitar Deity could ever ask for—and for being the general in command of the Black Label guitar army.
Rita “Weety” Haney for the Black Label love always shared with you and Saint Dime.
Zack “Under the Wire” Fagan and Adam “Irish Catholic Rabbi” Klumpp for the killer studio and recording alchemy.
Rich Ellis and Ben Dewey for the kick-ass drawings.
Glenn B. Davis and Adam Korn for proving, after extensive hand-to-hand combat in the fashion of Bruce Lee’s Game of Death, that an entertainment attorney and a literary agent can actually coexist … at least for now. It would be a great UFC pay-per-view, except in this match there would be no tap-out—it would be a battle to the death.
Father Eric and I actually wrote the original manuscript for this book in the Old Norse language and carved it into stone tablets. Many thanks to Will Hinton and Matthew Benjamin for strapping these heavy stones to their backs and hauling them down the treacherous sheer cliffs and peaks of Valhalla.
Bret Aita for proving that a man can survive on rice and beans for many days on end and still maintain a Berzerker level of creative editing genius (fuckin’ twisted, but genius the same).
Forrest Griffin and Erich Krauss for their infinite wisdom on the subject of manliness and their superior expertise on … um… I got nothin’. Thanks, guys.
Dave “Snake” Sabo. I’m still drinking with you in my heart, my slithery brother. Who am I kidding, Davey, I’m a fucking pussy now—order me up another Shirley Temple.
Mark “Bubba” LoMonaco—the perfect Berzerker … three hundred and thirty pounds of massive Metal sex appeal. And don’t forget the “wink wink.”
Brad Tolinski and Jimmy Hubbard at Guitar World for permission to reprint their magazine covers, which I have used to get half-off entry at tit bars and gay bars across the country.
I would like to un-thank JD. I don’t know why his name is on the roster of those whom I am actually grateful toward. I would actually be grateful if he would stop harassing me, being mean to me, and hurting my Black Label feelings. [Note to editor: Please remove JD from the acknowledgments, and if at all possible, from my life.]
Very special thanks to Hendrix Wylde and Stone Hendrikx—a couple of kids who are constantly subjected to the shenanigans of a couple of bigger kids. Hopefully neither of you will ever be exposed to this book, but if you are, it will be when you’re old enough to truly appreciate phrases such as “plow her sugar walls,” “dominate her baby-maker,” and “bathe her in conquest.” Follow your dreams, boys, and may the OdinForce always shine its glorious light upon thy faces.
Eric also thanks…
My son, Stone—Thank you for your eternal love and patience, for the seemingly endless hours driving back and forth between the Hendrikx and Wylde compounds at all hours, for all the nights spent on the Wyldes’ couch so that your dad could accomplish his goals, and for your understanding and sacrifice of time made for me to focus on my writing. I love you forever.
Erich Krauss—Thank you for a lifetime of friendship, honesty, and guidance that brought me to this point in my career. Without your examples of loyalty and inspiration, this book, and many others, would not exist.
Adam Korn—Thank you for believing in an idiot with a lot of bad ideas and one good one. It’s a rarity to have a friend as honest and loyal as you. Love you, buddy. P.S.: I just called your parents and told them that you’re gay.
Rita Haney—Thank you for sharing so many wholehearted stories from your relationship with Dime, and for your authentic love and friendship. Also, Stone and I need to extend our sincere gratitude for the best enchiladas of our lives.
Neil Strauss—Thank you for your inspiration, your counsel, and your amity.
I am infinitely grateful to Zakk, Barbaranne, Hayley Rae, Jesse John Michael, and Hendrix—Thank you from the bottom of my heart for making space in your home for Stone and me, as if it was our own. Your love and kindness, counsel, and generosity have taught my son precious life lessons, for which I am forever thankful. We are blessed to have you in our lives. We love you.
Appendix:
Bonus Material
Saturday Night’s Main Event!!!
HERE’S A LITTLE GAME THAT ME AND FATHER JDESUS PLAY. WHAT HAPPENS is, when we’re on Twitter talking to our Black Label family, I’ll take somebody’s tweet and serve it up to JDesus, throwing in a little extra about how wonderful and fucking adorable I am. Then he swings for the fences to tell me what a fucking douchebag loser I am in his rebuttal. He never ceases to amaze. Enjoy!
Tweet: I swear @ZakkWyldeBLS is an angel.
Blond Bomber: I was wondering what was growing out of my back?? It’s my Wings!!! :)xo
Mongoose: I wish it was a zip-tie, like on a hefty bag, for easy discarding of rubbish!!
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS and you are our RULER, Oh Great One!!!
Blond Bomber: I thought Gretzky was the “GREAT ONE”?? Guess there’s a NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN!!! :)xo
Mongoose: The sheriff is near!!!!! Lol
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS I have 3 different guitar pics from your show in Medford, OR. You were right in front of me and it was the most amazing thing!
Blond Bomber: Not Amazing… . “MOST AMAZING”!!! Thank you ladies ’n gentlemen … :)xo
Mongoose: The only amazing thing is that these idiots still come to see you!!
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS Damn Zakk, you’re getting Gi-Normous
Blond Bomber: In every possible facet of Life!!!! :)xo
Mongoose: Especially the ego.
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS 17 days, boss. The Brazil chapter and I thank you for blessing us with your presence- Thanks! † SDMF †
Blond Bomber: I appreciate doing it. Ya know, goose? :)xo
Mongoose: No. You really don’t.
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS :) So many treasures that I’m sure you’ve got there … you’re my Guitar God, Zakk!! True living Leyend!!
Blond Bomber: Truly… . Truly, without question … :)xo
Mongoose: You are a leyend!! Whatever that fuck that is!!!
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS One of the best guitarists… His chords touch my heart. It would be an honor if you follow me:)
Blond Bomber: My chords touch your heart too. Don’t they JDiesel??? Don’t they?? :)xo
Mongoose: They do something to my heart. They clog my ventricles!!
Tweet: Life is a loaded gun - love is a bullet that
sometimes kills amazing lyrics by the awesomely powerful OVERLORD @ZakkWyldeBLS
Blond Bomber: “AWESOMELY POWERFUL OVERLORD” … I really am something, ain’t I Goose??!!! :)xo
Mongoose: OH YOU’RE SOMETHING ALL RIGHT. And when we find out what exactly it is, we will terminate it.
Tweet: Listening to @ZakkWyldeBLS do a version of “Whiter Shade of Pale”. Awesome! #hangovermusic
Blond Bomber: I am quite “THE AWESOME ONE,” right, buddy?? :)xo
Mongoose: As I’ve said before…..THE BORESOME ONE!!!!!!!!!
Tweet: Zakk, YOU RULE!!! RT ©ZakkWyldeBLS: BLACK LABEL FAMILY WORLDWIDE!!!! YOU RULE!!! †TBLO †SDMF
Blond Bomber: I kinda do, don’t I Stallion?? :)xo
Mongoose: Rule?????? Cruel - definitely. Tool - obviously.
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS Just saw you on Californication. Keep rocking! Brazilians love you!
Blond Bomber: How could anybody NOT Love Me!!!! C’mon man!! :)xo
Mongoose: Obviously the Brazilians are starving for good quality entertainment. So I guess you fill a void, kinda, but not really.
Tweet: @ZakkWyldeBLS You’re a funny, funny guy. I like you buddy. I like you. Lol
Blond Bomber: Gosh darn it!!! I am funny ’n people DO LIKE ME!!!! Right JDiesel?? :)xo
Mongoose: Nah, not really bro.
Tweet: Hi, I’m a big fan of yours. I want to someday be as good as you on guitar. Ok, see ya!
Blond Bomber: Who doesn’t? Right, buddy??!! :)xo
Mongoose: Um, John McLaughlin, Jeff Beck, Al Di Meola, Frank Marino, Paul Gilbert…
Tweet: Holy Shit Jesus Balls @ZakkWyldeBLS is following me! I can die and go to heaven now.
Blond Bomber: I have quite a profound effect on people. Don’t ya think, Goose??? !! :)xo
Mongoose: Poor misguided soul.
Tweet: You should all follow the world’s best guitarist @Zakk WyldeBLS
Blond Bomber: If you know what’s good for ya!!! Ya know, Buddy??? :)xo