It was the first time I had a chance to really sit down and talk with him at length privately. Over one of the Rainbow's large and legendary pizzas, Nikki expanded not only on his plans for the Crüe but his ambitions for a Leäthür Records and RATT business relationship as well.
“I'd love to produce this band.” He said. “If tonight you see the same potential with them that I do, help me talk Alan into signing them to Leäthür.”
“Well, let's go.”
During the brief stroll east to the Whiskey, he pulled out some hand written lyrics to a song that he had written that same afternoon in the studio, ‘This is Hollywood.’ He was excited about it and I liked it a lot. Although I felt song lyrics without a melody were nothing more than a poem it expressed my feelings on the 1981 Sunset Strip scene perfectly. Years later, I was always sorry that it was never recorded until I realized he had morphed it into ‘Dangerous.’
Arriving at the Whiskey, a short line had already formed on the sidewalk waiting for the box office to open. As we both knew the backstage security guards we went through the rear entrance and made our way upstairs where he introduced me to his friends in RATT. We hung out for awhile, had a couple of beers and started back down the graffiti-covered narrow stairs to take our seats in the audience when I noticed something written on the wall that made me laugh out loud .
I said, “Here's a message for you Sixx.”
TO MÖTLEY CRÜE: YOU WILL NEVER BE THE NEW YORK DOLLS NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY. ASSHOLES!
“Nikki, go upstairs and find a Magic Marker, this demands a reply.”
Somehow he found a wide-tipped felt marker almost immediately. Under the scribbled statement, I simply wrote:
SIGNED: THE NEW YORK DOLLS
Nikki grinned. “Perfect! Mike, I knew there was something about you I liked.” That bit of graffiti still remains there twenty plus years later.
CHAPTER NINE
As mentioned, I had actually seen RATT a few Months prior when Images played that first and only Gazzarri’s show. I hadn’t actually paid that much attention to them that night as I was concerned with the business at hand but I did remember being impressed with the singer as well as the (then) lead guitarist, Jake E. Lee.
This night, after their set I did have to agree with Nikki that the band had a lot of potential and I would back him up with his pitch to Alan.
I wasn’t exactly sure what we could do with them business-wise however. Realistically, Leäthür Records was basically a tiny operation as it was just Alan and I running it on a day to day basis. Although I had a lot of faith in Nikki’s musical instincts and felt that he could do a great job producing a RATT LP, my concern was that with another act signed to our little label would dilute the time and energy that was vitally needed at the moment to promote ‘Too Fast for Love’ as well as the Crüe itself.
Percy and myself backstage after the show having fun.
Our short walk back uphill on Clark Street to the ‘Mötley house’ was interrupted only by a quick interlude at one wall of the Whisky wherein a pedestrian on the sidewalk asked Nikki if he was a transvestite prostitute and ‘how much?’ A quick punch by Sixx's hand slamming the guy's face into a glass-covered up-coming show poster on the exterior Whisky wall answered that question post haste.
Left behind were blood and glass fragments as well as a slumped body on the Sunset Boulevard sidewalk. I wasn't worried. Although per Alan I was ‘supposed to keep them out of trouble’ Mötley had become the biggest money maker on the Strip and I was sure the Whiskey owners were not about to ban us from their clubs for a minor street altercation, however bloody.
Arriving at the apartment I was amazed that it was surprisingly quiet. A few hanger-ons in the living room and a handful of very cute leather-mini skirted and fishnet adorned ladies, (a perk of which I had come to develop a taste for due primarily to the bad experiences with many Beverly Hills Princesses I had been involved with in the recent real estate days.)
Nikki led me back to the kitchen which was only occupied by an older, rather conservative looking fellow who was engrossed in some activity on the cheap Formica kitchen table Alan had purchased for the guys at the Goodwill.
He was cutting lines.
“Sit down and enjoy.” Nikki pointed his hand inviting me to a chair.
“Is this what I think it is? Cocaine? I've heard a lot about this stuff but I’ve really never tried it.”
God I was naive.
“Yep, coke man, enjoy....it's on the house.”
Buzzed, an hour or so later Nikki asked me to join him in a project. He wanted to drive a nail into his bedroom door to hang a dart board. It sounded simple enough but given our condition at the time it didn’t prove to be all that easy after all.
“This could take someone's eye out if the door is opened at the wrong time, Sixx.”
“Shit, that would make a great album cover!” Nikki replied.
High as I was, I agreed. “Let's just do it.”
Shortly after our construction venture I found a spandexed cutie or two to keep me company for the night and later passed out on the living room floor's orange shag carpet.
Waking up the next morning I didn't want to disturb Nikki and his overnight guest Lita Ford who had dropped in earlier, but left a note to
remind him of that evening’s radio interview at the Cal-State Northridge College radio station. Although it was not a major signal by any means, it was a well listened to station in the large San Fernando Valley section of L.A. and it was welcomed publicity.
When I got back home there was a message from Alan...
“I'm flying in late this afternoon and will meet you at the station. Can you drive the guys out there and please, whatever you do try and keep'em sober for this interview?”
There was only one way to accomplish this feat. Even though it was only 10 am, I had to get back up there as fast as possible. After a quick shower and a change of clothes I headed to the apartment, arriving just as Lita was getting into her new gun-metal grey Pontiac Trans-Am in the driveway, barefoot and wearing only a green surgeons ‘scrub-shirt.’
For a moment I regretted my perfect health.
Inside the apartment I was presently surprised to find the guys all wide awake, showered, dressed and ready to go. Mick had driven in from the Marina and Vince, who had spent the previous day surfing in Huntington Beach had also found a ride in to Hollywood.
Still, we had lots of time to kill before the interview. While Nikki and I talked some business, Tommy spent a couple of hours on the phone, and later Mick and I became involved in a serious discussion regarding Nostrumdamious. I was impressed that he was so astute on the 18th Century Physic’s work.
None the less, the guys were nervous and I could sense they needed a drink to calm down.
“This is our first radio interview, Mike,” Vince remarked while pacing the floor. “What do we say?”
“Look Vince, just take it easy, it's only a College radio station, it’ll be good practice for the majors. Just answer the DJ's questions, and try to throw in some humor or candor. When you’re in that studio pretend you're on a stage like the Whiskey or 'Troub where you're in control of the audience, you're becoming pretty good at that.”
That seemed to make him only more nervous and frankly for whatever reason (probably the coke hangover) me too, as now I needed a drink as well. Vince was right. It was after all, our first interview. But I had promised Alan....
Remembering that they were only getting $25 each per week to eat on I suggested we cruise down to Carney's ‘The Train on Sunset’ for some chili-cheese burgers, my treat at the very least to kill some time before we had to leave for the radio interview.
It was a good move as it became a welcomed moral booster. The large Carney's crowd was intrigued by the look of the guys chowing down and we were constantly being interrupted from our burgers and fries for autographs and pictures. They knew they were ‘somebody.’
Little did they know however, the g
uys were each only making $25 per week.
After a brief stop back at the ‘Mötley house’ to freshen up we took the rather long drive over the hill to Northridge for our 5 pm appointment at the station. We pulled in the parking lot as the sun was going down, and sure enough there was Alan, pacing nervously outside the building.
“They're dry as a bone Al.”
“Thanks Mike, thanks a lot. Let’s go do it.”
We went into the studio where we met the DJ, a very amicable, friendly fellow who seemed to put the guys somewhat at ease, at least until the tape began rolling and his questions started .
“So, we have with us tonight The Mötley Crüe.”
‘The Mötley Crüe?’ I cringed.
“Unique image I must say. Who were your musical influences?”
Silence and no answers. You could’ve heard a pin drop.
Then Nikki, after some fidgeting said something to the effect of "Well, uhh... I don't know really, uhh... maybe the Scorpions? Cheap Trick?”
As hard as the DJ tried to drag more answers out of the band and liven up the interview, his efforts were of no avail. It was like talking to stone statues and it went on and on like this for at least fifteen minutes.
To my relief Alan interrupted. “Can we stop the tape?”
“Sure” the DJ responded, pressing a button on the console.
Tape stopped, Alan opened his wallet and pulled out two twenty dollar bills.
“Mike find the nearest liqueur store and get some alcohol, please. Anything.”
“You got it,” I said, holding back a laugh.
I found a small convince store around the corner and bought a case of beer and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Back at the studio the boys devoured it like hungry tigers on the prowl. It was relief at last.
It wasn't long with the tape once again rolling that the interview took on a whole new lively dimension. The guys were open and candid, the DJ's questions were answered with wit and lots of jokes were cracked back and forth. Sample cuts we had brought along from the then still in-progress Too Fast for Love were played and I was sure the future listening audience would be intrigued and entertained at this interview with a then hardly known band.
Overall it ended up being somewhat of a successful interview, thanks in no small part to the Budweiser Brewing Company and a whiskey distillery in rural Tennessee.
CHAPTER TEN
As the word on the Strip spread that there was a new guy on the Crüe management team, my phone began ringing constantly. It seemed that every band in Hollywood wanted to be a part of the action that was rapidly becoming Mötley Crüe and Coffman & Coffman Productions. I could understand and didn’t mind. After all, this was how I came to be involved with the band in the first place.
I would ask most callers to simply send us a demo tape as I knew that Alan had no real interest, at least at that time, in any other acts with the possible exception of RATT. However, I did give a listen to each tape received out of respect for the bands dreams.
Only a few actually grabbed my attention....
One was a group called S.I.N. I liked their music a lot as they had an updated Deep Purple feel with a grinding Hammond keyboard sound and an Angel type image. Without even bothering to mention the band to Alan at the time, I did call them back and arrange a luncheon meeting at the Silver Spoon coffee shop in West Hollywood with Rik Foxx, the bassist and Vince Gilbert, the keyboardist.
For whatever reason, Vince and I hit it off immediately. Maybe it was that we were the same age and had the same sick sense of humor, the Irish backgrounds or shared a love of Hammond organs and Leslie tone cabinets which I had played in my late teens. Whatever it was, I'm proud to say that we created a friendship that day that has endured both good times and bad and still is strong, after all these years.
The ‘Original’ S.I.N. L-R Carl, my future nightclub/studio partner Vince, Rik, Howard and Art.
Rik was an interesting fellow as well. He looked like a miniature version of Blackie, as well as perhaps Nikki's older brother.
Rik, Nikki and Blackie backstage at the Roxy.
It turned out that the three were indeed good friends and in fact Blackie was in Rik's former New York band Alien, with Frankie Starr (later of The Four Horsemen). Blackie had summoned Rik to the West Coast to play bass with his new project, W.A.S.P. Despite the friendship, a collision of egos occurred within only a few weeks of rehearsals and Rik was fired from the band, resulting in Blackie having to step in on bass at the last minute on the first W.A.S.P. LP.
I told them I'd talk to Alan and get back to them. Although it sounded cliché, it wasn't the usual agent's ‘not what we're looking for at this time’ but indeed a serious promise.
The second band that caught my interest was Hellion. I met over dinner at Mirabelle's on Sunset with lead singer Ann Boylen. The girl was so sharp and astute in the ways of the music business that I decided right then that she didn't need us. I was frank and told her that up front.
She was flattered and disappointed at the same time.
The second and lesser reason I didn't want to get involved was that I personally found her very attractive. I didn't mention that factor to her of course, but I knew myself well enough to know that somewhere down the line this attraction would interfere with my professional management duties were I to become involved with her band.
She did ask me for a favor that night.... Bass player Bryan Marr had just quit Hellion due to mutual musical differences, yet she and Bryan remained friends.
“If you hear of a heavier band than mine that needs a bass player, something along the lines of Iron Maiden, can you suggest Bryan?” she said. “That's what he wants.”
“Sure, I'm always hearing who needs what around town. Feel free to give him my number.”
That statement would come back to haunt me on a personal level within a year.
The next morning there was breakfast meeting with Alan. He told me the record was ‘in the can’ just waiting for the final mixes that would be complete within a few days. The album artwork was finished and went on to say that the sleeves were being printed in Grass Valley and would be shipped down to my house in L.A.
I took this as great news. Most of my time was still being spent on the phone to club owners trying to get the ever-elusive out of town tour going. If we had a professional LP I could send them, it would show the bookers that we were serious and an act they should hire.
“What's our ETA?”
“Cases of the finished product will be in our hands within a week, Mike.”
Alan also mentioned that the record pressing factory In Compton that would produce the final product in mass had invited us down for a tour of the facility that afternoon.
“Like to go with us?”
“Sure, sounds interesting, Al.”
Bullshit. Although it sounded like a grade school field trip to a potato chip factory, it actually indeed did turn out to be interesting.
The guys came along and the plant manager guided us through the entire record manufacturing process from melting the raw vinyl, the actual pressing of the records from the steel masters to finally the packaging and shipping operations.
Nikki, Vince, Mick and Tommy listened attentively to our guide and asked a number of very intelligent questions.
Later in the week, the usual routine of trying to sell the band to out-of-town bookers was consuming all of my time, not to mention cooking my long distance bill. If I heard ‘Mötley Who? We've got plenty of bar bands around here’ (wherever ‘here’ happened to be) one more time I was going to throw the damn phone against the wall. Alan was growing impatient as well, constantly asking me what progress we were making.
Four letter word: None.
He just couldn't get it through his head that nobody outside of L.A. had ever heard of the Crüe, save for those few small self-promoted shows in the rural areas, and that the band was not a draw elsewhere.
Frustrated, I suggested an idea. Let's get a bill toget
her using Motley as headliner, probably using RATT or W.A.S.P. as support and maybe one or two other bands and promote our own show in an outlying yet heavily populated Southern California area. Oxnard came to mind. An hour North of Los Angeles, I felt it was perfect. Large Hispanic community, there were lot's of teens looking for something to do on a Friday night and there was a definite lack of entertainment options. I remembered the loyal audience that I had built for Images.
We took a drive up the coast to check out the Oxnard Civic Auditorium. It would work perfectly. A very nice venue, around 1500 seats that I felt we could come close to filling if we promoted the hell out of the event. Great stage and lighting too. Alan agreed. The rental price was right and the management seemed anxious to have us there. Honestly, I think they would have been happy to have anybody there.
A date was booked about a month away and Alan gave them a deposit check.
Upon our return to L.A. we received a message from the record factory that ‘Too Fast for Love’ was pressed, packaged and on the dock.
Indeed, we finally had our product.
Alan rented a truck and directed Stick and a couple of other roadies to make the pick-up at the plant.
I had sent out pre-release press notices to all the local record stores and one small independent outlet in Cerritos called and wanted to host a record signing party for us on the following Saturday afternoon. They themselves would promote the event and promised that there would be a large crowd.
A large crowd? Well, maybe it wasn’t all that large but it wasn't disappointing for a slightly known band. Probably around 200 kids turned out, anxious to meet the act they had heard so much about locally.
Metal, Madness & Mayhem - An Insiders Journey Through The Hollywood 80s Page 7