Hollywood: Rock Of Ages

by Chris Solberg

  We drove for the 25+ hours and were just entering Dallas when the most bitchin’ lightning storm slowed our speed from 65 miles per hour, to a much slower speed of approximately 2 miles per hour. The rain was hitting the windshield so heavy, you could not see out the windows. All of us were lacking sleep, and already borderline grumpy. Lizzie happened to be driving the equipment van, and Pops was driving the passenger van. Lizzie had the window rolled down and his head sticking out the side, attempting to see the road ahead. Pops followed suit. Once the hail began, they could not longer stick their heads out the window. The hail was hitting the van so hard I thought the windows were going to break. While the hail assaulted our vehicles, the windows began to steam up with condensation from all the moisture trapped in the humid van. We had to pull both vans over and wait out the storm. It was now 9:00 p.m. Well, this storm caused us to lose

  another 1/2 hour. We were due on stage at 10:30 p.m. Do you want to talk about stress? This was a big money gig. Dallas was paying top price for bands out of Hollywood and we were going to capitalize on that.

  Somehow, someway, we made it to the club with a half hour to spare. I had been dressed in my stage gear from Phoenix, Arizona. I smelled like hell, my eyeliner from the day prior was lightly smeared across my eyes and my hair looked like white cotton candy. Lizzie was still in his stinky, dirty shirt from working on the van, just 24 hours prior and the rest of the guys were dressed in various dirty stage costumes they had on from the Phoenix show. We had been up for hours and had attempted to sleep whenever we could. We looked like dead bodies warmed over.

  This was not the time to look like shit! Upon our arrival, the club had professional road crews waiting to take our gear into the back of the club and set all of it up on the stage. The place was huge! There was easily one thousand people at this place. It was an upscale bar in the nice part of Dallas. We stood out like sore thumbs. Ernie and I walked through the back and into our dressing room to take a sink bath. I was half naked splashing in the sink like a bird taking a bath. I splashed some water on my face, cleaned up the smudged makeup, washed my armpits and grabbed a beer out of the backstage band fridge. The club had a full catered food table out garnished with all the favorites. I skipped the food and headed out to see what the club had to offer. This club was years ahead of its time. There were giant projector screens (well before projector televisions were in bars) on all sides of the club playing MTV videos. I must have had a smile on my face that was ear to ear. This is just what I had pictured. I had professional roadies, Ice cold beer and wait... holy shit, our “Glamour Girls” video came on every big screen across the club. People began to cheer, yell and scream. I was really stoked and I walked up to the bar to order another beer. The bartender looked surprised when he saw me. He said, “What would you like?” I said “Corona!” He handed me two, and said to bring the rest of the band over. The bartender continued to introduce himself as the owner of the club. He appeared star struck. My ego at this time just about made my head burst. This guy was completely kissing my ass and I had no idea who he was. He absolutely knew who I was. During this entire moment with the owner of the club, the video continued to play and people were gathered around Ernie and I as if we were rock stars. Here I am in a completely strange town, in a completely strange state, and fans were all around to get a glimpse or a photo of me and the band. The cameras were snapping and people flooded us with questions. As I stated earlier, this was not a good time to look or smell like shit!

  While I was playing rock-star, Pops was playing pool in the back of this club. He was always a good pool hustler. He would act like a drunken idiot in the beginning of a game. He would purposely lose on small $20.00 bets. Eventually he would up the bet to fifty, sixty bucks. We tried to explain to Pops that he should not do this to the biggest, toughest and scariest guy in the club. Pops never seem to care. He never showed any fear in front of anyone. He was always a bad-ass person to have with us. People were always afraid of Pops. He continued to play pool continuously throughout evening. I wandered over to see how he was doing. He had pissed off half of the pool playing locals by taking all of their money. He just laughed and commented about how stupid cowboys are. Pops attempted to start another pool game by inserting two more quarters into the table slot. The pool table gulped up the quarters, but did not release any of the balls. There was a large red and white sign that said, “No Refunds, Play At Your Own Risk.” Pops said, “Fuck that”, and kicked the quarter slot with the heel of his boot. JACKPOT!!! I had no idea pool tables held that much money. Quarters were pouring out everywhere onto the floor. It looked like a triple 777 win on a Las Vegas slot machine. Pops leaned down and calmly started scooping up all the quarters and filling every pocket on his jeans. I think he scooped up over fifty dollars in change. Pops did not care if anyone saw him kick the shit out of the pool table, and he really did not care if anyone saw him take the quarters. As I mentioned earlier, Pops did not care what anyone thought of him.

  We had been at the club for a total of 30 minutes and already had people pissed off at the band. When I say “people”, I mean the local men. Cowboys that were not at the club to watch us perform, they were at the club to pick up on all the girls that came out to see us. We played the show and it was great. It was bitchin’, with people screaming and yelling asking for autographs after the show...I felt like a rock star. After the show, Pops treated me to a extra large order of Taco Bell tacos and Dr. Pepper with the quarters he stole form the pool table. I think that night I ate 10 tacos and a couple burritos. I did not need anything more to eat for the next 24 hours! It’s got to be hard to fathom, but being by ourselves in that Taco Bell with enough money to buy whatever we wanted, was the best part of that night. Cupkake was on tour, and life was good!

  ULTRA POP TOUR - HOUSTON, Texas - Cupkake

  Five days in one city is much too long to be in one place for any touring rock band. We arrived in Houston Texas on a rainy summer afternoon. It was extremely humid and the air was as thick as cold cream of wheat. We had to catch up with our laundry and other miscellaneous items that needed to be addressed. We were scheduled to play in the same club for the next five days in a row. Not a usual schedule for the Ultra Pop crew. Lizzie had made some strange deal that if we played this club every evening, food and lodging would be provided.

  The club had a “band house” that was attached to the rear of the club that was actually pretty cool. We had a secret door where you could enter and exit the club as you pleased. The band house was approximately 1000 square feet, equipped with several bathrooms and a kitchen. The club stocked the band house with beer and food. We were several weeks into the tour by now and our attention span was getting shorter and shorter. We had lots of down time during the day and we were constantly looking for some type of excitement. It was the middle of the afternoon, day two of five days. We had played a short, quaint show at the club the night before. It was an ok crowd, but nothing to brag about. Nothing memorable about the show. A typical weeknight show at a small crappy bar in the suburban area of a big city. It was now the middle of the day and unfortunately when we got bored, we drank beer or whatever alcohol we could get our hands on. After depleting our weeks worth of food and alcohol in one and one half day, we were now intoxicated, without more beer or food to pass the time.

  Someone in the band recommended that we clear all the furniture within the living room of the band house for a game of broom hockey. What is broom hockey? I would like to think that we made this game up on the spot, but unfortunately I doubt it. We gathered as many brooms as we could (easily done because of the club next door and the house had two). We decided that doorways on each side of the room would be the goals. The floor in the living room was hardwood, which made the game work very similar to hockey. We used an old tennis ball that we located in the yard out back, had two teams comprised of three people on each team, and away we went. The band house was suddenly the center of a rough game of street hockey. We were bashing the ball arou
nd without any regard of what might break in the house. The ball was hit with the sweeping or fan side of the broom. There were many of times the ball was hit so hard, it would dent the drywall. This game went on day after day and became more violent each hour that passed. Brooms were broken, wallboards were broken and drywall was dented. We basically thrashed the place.

  It was around day three, and all the guys would take off in separate directions after the shows to do their own things. Some might go to a different nightclub down the street, some might go with some girls off to a house party a few miles away. Who knows? It was always an adventure. Pops and I would often stay behind and hang out at the club we were playing and drink and have a good time with whoever might be around. Besides, our “home” was right next door. Why go anywhere else?

  On this day three, immediately after the show was over, it was just Pops and I. We hung out at the bar until closing with a bunch of dudes we did not even know, playing pool and drinking beer by the keg. I remember having a

  really good time and this was without any company from the local woman. For whatever reason, the local bars loved to get the band members hammered after the show. Not sure why, but it worked for me. I was really trashed. It was somewhere around 2:00 AM and the bar manager was shooing us out the back door to go to sleep in the band house. We were not ready to go home and sleep. We were still in the mood to party, even though we could hardly stand up! Finally the bar manager gave us a six pack of beer to take with us next door so we would get out of his hair and he could close the place down for the evening and go home to his family.

  Well, off we went to the band house. The bar manager had the place closed within five minutes of kicking us out. Man, he must have been in a hurry to get home. Here we were, all alone, wide awake, drunk and now... we were thinking of food. We checked the band fridge and learned that there was nothing edible inside that ice box. Pops was checking around the area for something to eat, something to do, just something to keep his mind off... “Hey check this out”, Pops proudly said. He had tried the door that led off the club next door and guess what? It was wide open. The bar manager was in such a hurry to get home, he forgot to lock us out of the club.

  Obviously we went into the club. For some strange reason, we were not one bit afraid to be inside the closed nightclub. We were not worried about getting caught in there whatsoever. After all, it is attached to our temporary “home” right? It took only minutes for the stereo to be cranked full blast, all the lights in the club were flipped on and of course the stage was all lit up and ready for some good ole drunk jammin! Pops and I were screwing around, pouring ourselves drinks from behind the bar and getting completely shit-faced drunk. I had always wanted to pour drinks behind an official bar. We were doing shots, mixing drinks, sampling all the tap beers and having a blast. The bar had a kitchen in the back that was soon to be home to two midnight amateur chefs.

  We figured out how to fire up the professional stoves (not sure how) in the back kitchen and got the fryer nice and hot for the biggest batch of french fries any one human would ever attempt to eat. We cooked three 5 lb bags of french fries in that deep fryer, but had no intention of eating them. What could you do with fifteen pounds of french fries? I located the ground beef and prepared my famous 6 pound “Houston 3:00 am drunken meaty-meat, colon blocking-patty.” I know it was six pounds because we weighed it on the kitchen scale before cooking it. Oh yea, don’t forget the one pound brick of deep fried cheese to top off the artery clogging monster. I don’t quite remember what happened with all the food, because I was a little tipsy when I was playing chef. I attempted a big bite out of the gut busting burger, and then I recall chucking it at Pops. After that, not sure where it went. We cooked various foods that we found throughout the evening, making a complete mess of the kitchen. It was now 4:00 am, and Pops had located the fire extinguisher that was for the main kitchen. Pops thought it would be very funny if he soaked me with the fire extinguisher while I was in the kitchen cooking everything under the sun. Not one bit of warning came before I was hit with the contents of that extinguisher! I heard a very distinct hissing sound of a fire extinguisher going off right behind my head. It was not a water extinguisher like the good old days. Nope! This was a chemical fire extinguisher, containing a white powdery substance that was a fire retardant. This thing was blowing off several pounds of white dust that is obviously used to put out a three alarm grease fire. The entire kitchen was coated with this white powder and Pops and I did not have any worry or care that we had just destroyed the clubs kitchen. The white dust was blown into the ovens, the fryers, the freezers and food prep areas of the restaurant. Pops chased me around the entire club with the fire extinguisher, laughing like a crazy person, now spreading this horrible dust onto every item in the bar and club area. The bar looked like a white-out at the North Pole. Nothing went untouched by this messy extinguisher! Nothing! Pops continued to giggle while running around with this empty canister that just moments before contained five pounds of fire retardant powder. As I sat on the floor laughing my ass off, Pops had located a second fire extinguisher and ran toward the band house. Oooooh crap! Pops! No! No! NO! I was to late. Pops had run through the entire band house blowing the fire extinguisher onto every item in the band house. That included all of our open suitcases and personal items.

  I recall sobering up really quick, because now we had brought the mess into our housing area. The band was going to kill us! The owner of the club is going to kill us! We had to think fast. We were too drunk to think so we both said, “Screw it, lets stay in the band van.” We went out and slept in the van (passed out in the van). We woke up early the next morning in the van. The first thing I noticed when we woke up were a couple of Houston Police cars parked outside the club. It took me a minute to realize that the police were there because of the mess left at the club. Do you want to see two guys panic really quick? I looked at Pops, and he looked at me. It did not take any genius to realize that we were the guilty parties involved in the mess. We were covered in food debris and white powder from the extinguishers. It was time to get the hell out of there!

  We snuck out of the van and went down the street to a local laundry located a few blocks away. We put our shirts in the wash and cleaned up in one of the slop sinks in the laundry. Pops and I cleaned up really well. We were able to take a damp cloth and wipe our pants off and remove most of the white fire retardant off of our persons. Returning to the scene of the crime soaked from washing our clothing should have giving everyone around the clue that we obviously cleaned ourselves up so we would not get caught. The entire band was at the club looking over the disaster area and as previously mentioned, the police were there investigating the mess. Thank god we had Deputies dumber than Barney Fife on the case because you should have heard their theories on how all of this occurred. They may as well have told us that aliens came down from Mars, had a party, and caused the big mess. I was so relieved that the police had no idea or clue what had happened. I wonder if they ever caught the aliens that made the mess?? Ha! Ha! Ha!

  Kings

  The Endless Summer - Cupkake

  1988 would prove to be one of the greatest summers on record for me or anyone that would come to visit us at the El Cerrito Hollywood apartment. Vinnie and I had planned this out for months before, but to actually be living in Hollywood was almost unreal. Not to mention, this was my first time living on my own. Vinnie and I found this place by driving around looking for the best apartment to service our needs. As we arrived at the apartment

  complex located at 1805 North El Cerrito, smack in the middle of Hollywood, we knew this was where we needed to live. Keep in mind, we were not looking for a nice quite place to raise a family, we were looking for a place to raise the dead!

  We moved into apartment 111, located on the bottom floor. This was the coolest location because we were next to the front gate were everyone had to enter. This made it very easy for us to quickly make friends in the building, and announce our
Hollywood arrival. This apartment at the time was fairly clean, sporting the newest in window shades and wall to wall carpet. As we moved in, all the neighbors stated that the old tenants that occupied

  apartment 111 was an up and coming band called Guns N Roses. Vinnie and I were not sure how true that was, but it was cool to hear! Our immediate neighbor told me that she was happy to see us, and explained that she was fed up with the obnoxious noise that pulsed from the apartment at all hours of the night. Little did she know, that she, and all of the building’s tenants were in for a big surprise! Vinnie and I quickly made this apartment home, and decorated the apartment with Rock-N-Roll posters and other strange items. I don’t think that we were there but one week before we had visitors stay with us for the entire weekend. There was a swimming pool down the hall that had so much action, it was hard to pass up. We would run back and fourth all day long with plenty of beer in hand. Where did the beer come from? Everyone that would visit always asked the simple question; “Do you guys need anything before I come over?” What do you think our standard answer was? Of course, “Yep, you can bring beer, we are almost out. Oh, and pick up a 20 pound bag of ice too!” Almost out of beer may have meant that there was only a twelve pack. At first, our apartment did not have a fridge or freezer. We had a big orange ice chest that we could keep beer in. No there was never any food inside the ice chest. Well, you would have the occasional bobbing carrot, empty mayo jar, or partially eaten pickle floating in the warm, dirty water left over from the melted ice. Bon Appétit!