My Appetite For Destruction (25 page)

R
ight after the “Sweet Child” video became a sensation on
MTV
, the band’s growing popularity came to the attention of screen legend Clint Eastwood. Someone must have suggested bringing us into his new film project,
The Dead Pool
. Around the same time, I was asking Dougie, “Dude, can you get us in a movie? Or a TV show? A fucking cartoon? Anything?” So it was a pretty cool coincidence how it all worked out.

Axl would later proclaim the movie to be “a piece of shit,” encouraging fans
not
to see it. It featured a would-be Axl-type rock star, Johnny Squares, played by a then-unknown Jim Carrey, lip-synching to “Welcome to the Jungle.” In the film’s plot, he is murdered in what would be made to look like an overdose so that participants in a pool for betting on when celebrities would die could benefit from the bets they had placed in their morbid game.

We were scheduled for two days of filming. The first was at Forest Lawn Cemetery in San Francisco, where we were cast as rock ’n’ roll friends of the deceased Johnny Squares. We all knew this would be great visual exposure. We were going to be in a movie. It was exciting and even Axl showed up on time.

During the first day of filming I hooked up with this stripper chick who was an extra on the set. She was a local, so we went back to her place. We smoked a little weed and she made us tea. I noticed that she had slipped a brown powder substance into my cup. I assumed it was some kind of spice or something. The last thing I remember, she had my head between her legs and was forcing my face against her groin. “Now I’ll show
you
how to eat pussy,” she purred. She was in control and I was floating, floating away on some silken cloud without a care in the world.

I began to chuckle at her remark as those clouds enveloped me, and then
nothing.
I passed out while she was mounting me. What a time for my first heroin overdose. I woke up in a hospital room the day we were supposed to be filming our second scene for the film. I had no idea how long I had been out. In fact, I had no idea where I was or what had happened, but as my vision cleared it was apparent someone was keeping vigil over me. Someone was at my bedside patiently waiting for me to come out of it, though no one knew if or when that would be.

I blinked. I blinked again. It was Axl. Axl got up and was now standing over me. He smiled. He looked genuinely relieved. He said, “Man, that was close, Stevie.” He was the only one there. Later, a nurse told me he had sat by my bed the whole time. The other guys went ahead to do the movie but Axl stayed at the hospital.

What Axl did was so noble, so selfless and surprising, that I cried, and they were tears of joy. He kind of shifted uneasily when he saw the waterworks, but that was just too bad. I felt nothing but unbridled love for him at that moment and I didn’t care if he saw it.

There he was, blowing off a chance to be in a scene for a major movie release, to stand by me, his own personal vigil, just Axl. Goddamn Axl. Soon as I thought I had him pegged, he went and did one of the most touching, meaningful things anyone’s ever done for me. That was so cool. Thanks, Axl.

Here’s the thing about Axl. He demands emotion. “Love me, hate me, but don’t you dare fucking ignore me.” He will not tolerate a vacuum. Sometimes I think that’s why he would keep our fans waiting for three hours before going on. He demanded an emotionally charged atmosphere at all times. He wanted a life spent on the frantic jagged edge, and that’s why he could deliver that unique urgency in his lyrics: he lived it.

Having Axl there really had a powerful effect on me. I was back on my feet in no time. The nurse called it “the power of youth.” More like the power of stupidity. Anyone with just an ounce of sense would have known to wait for a clean bill of health from the doctor, but not me. As soon as I could get out of bed without falling over face-first, and that happened at least a dozen times, I was leaving. Finally, I ripped the tubes out of my arms and just stum- bled out.

N
ext up was a tour with Iron Maiden. I dug the band; I remembered jamming to their
Piece of Mind
record over and over when I was staying at Brad Server’s back in 1983. I was hanging with Nicko McBrain, Maiden’s drummer, one night in Quebec, a beautiful city. We were checking the sights, having a few drinks, and Nicko starts talking shit to me. I didn’t say anything to start anything, and I didn’t say anything
back
to him either. He was so drunk and he was getting pissed at me for no reason at all. I don’t know why. He is one big wide-body dude, and I thought he was gonna kick my ass. Luckily he drank himself into a stupor and got all pie-eyed and quiet. I just slipped away and grabbed a cab back to the hotel.

I do remember one time during this tour when probably a couple of hours after the show had ended, I walked into the greenroom, where about twenty fans were waiting around to meet the bands. Like I said earlier, the guys in my band were not into meet-‘n’-greets, record signings, nothing like that. So I walk in, and it’s completely silent. All the kids looked bummed out; they all had their heads down, a real sad scene. So I go, “Hey, c’mon, this is a fucking party!” Suddenly everyone looks up at me, and the place erupts. It felt great. A big “
YAAAYYY!
” filled the room. One of the guys had a few joints and I lit one up after another and passed them around. I talked to everyone and signed autographs. I was so surprised at what a difference a little affection could make. I mean, as far as lifting these kids’ moods it was like night and day. It was really rewarding for me, and I always wished we had done more shit like that as a band.

The Maiden tour brought us back through Canada, back to the U.S., and ended in Sacramento, California. Our gear was set up, and about two hours before we were to go on, I hear that Axl can’t do it, his vocal cords are shot. Although a lot of our fans were going to be upset, the band was aware of Axl’s true intentions and understood what was actually going down, as you’ll see soon.

So at the last minute, local Sacramento band Tesla filled in. I think they even used our equipment. I was disappointed because the next show was going to be back at the L.A. Forum, a place where I saw so many bands when I was growing up. “Aw, man. I always wanted to play the fuckin’ Forum.” Our buddies in L.A. Guns got the gig, and they continued opening shows for Maiden. At Irvine Meadows Amphitheater, all of us minus Axl got up onstage with L.A. Guns and performed two songs to an ecstatic audience. We had bowed out of those shows at the last minute last time, and many of the kids went specifically to see us, so we felt obligated.

J
ust a few days later, our dreams came true again when our long-awaited tour with Aerosmith kicked off in Illinois. I remember there was this one-way road to the venue that went on for miles. So we took a helicopter from the hotel right to the backstage area. It was so cool, so rock ’n’ roll. After the show we were in the dressing room and all the guys in Aerosmith came in, Tyler, Perry, Whitford, Hamilton, and Kramer, and said, “You guys rock. You guys definitely rock.” That was the first time we met them, and it couldn’t have been any better in a dream. Our heroes telling
us
they liked the way we played. And one of the main reasons they were impressed was because Axl’s voice was fucking incredible, godlike in its range and intensity.

That was because he had dropped out of the end of the Iron Maiden tour to give his voice a good rest. You see, Aerosmith meant so much to him, and so much to us, that he didn’t want to blow out his voice. He wanted to be well rested. And hearing Joe Perry tell us we kicked ass made it all worthwhile.

There was one show we played, I think it was in Indiana, where they even sold out the seats
behind
the stage. We definitely brought
a lot
of those people in. Everybody was singing along with the songs with a ton of energy. There was so much excitement, I had to yell to Tom as loudly as I could, “Get me a bucket. Get me a bucket!”

I must have sounded like I was in a damn Monty Python movie. Playing the show felt so great it actually made my stomach turn cartwheels and suddenly I had to vomit. As soon as the song ended I puked right in the thing. After I shed the jitters, it was even more fun than I could ever have imagined. I was like a little kid up there, sneaking under my own tree on Christmas day.

Aerosmith are my heroes. Period. I respect Steven Tyler more than any other front man in the world. He really was the coolest, greatest, most down-to-earth guy. Besides the fact that he was an amazing performer, and a rock legend, he was truly the nicest, most genuine guy. Remember, he’s a Tallarico and I’m a Coletti, so we share a little linguine lineage too.

The management told us to keep the drinking and drugs out of sight, as the boys in Aerosmith were all recovering addicts. After some of the sound checks in the outdoor theaters, Tyler and I would go out in golf carts and race around the venue.

He told me some amazing stories about his battles with drugs, how in the old days he would be dancing off to the side of the stage and he had his assistant there, ready with a syringe all filled up. He also confessed that in his famous black-and-white-striped outfit, he had a mini-pocket inside the scarf where he stashed quaaludes, Valium, Percodan, a fucking pharmacy in his folds. Then he looked me right in the eye and said, “Don’t let
yourself
get too mixed up with that shit.”

I looked him right in the eye. “No worries, Steven, I won’t.” Ha.
Famous last words . . .

One night Steven and I brought about ten girls back with us to the tour bus. We told them to get naked. Steven assumed the role of a director. “Now you three, suck his dick. You, sit on his face while he eats your pussy. You two, make out.” Steven Tyler, rookie porn director of the year. And me, the new king of porn. That was the most memorable night of the tour and one of the top ten memorable nights in my
life.
Tyler is nonstop fun.

We got to New Jersey to play at Giants Stadium, and after an amazing show, I went back to the hotel really looking forward to seeing Cheryl again. I began having some serious thoughts about our relationship because I figured I had gotten myself pretty well set up with a kick-ass successful rock band and had good money coming in as a result of it. And I don’t know, maybe the heart to heart with Tyler from the other night was making some headway into my thick skull. Maybe it was time for me to settle down a bit.

So as soon as we met in the lobby, I took her to my hotel room and said, “Take off your clothes.” We made love like never before. She could sense my passion and responded with just as much enthusiasm. We lay in bed afterward and as far as I was concerned, this was
the one.

I
n the middle of the tour, we were flown out to England to perform at the annual Monsters of Rock festival at a racetrack in Castle Donington, England. It was August 20, 1988. Opening the show was a German metal band, Halloween, then us, then Megadeth, David Lee Roth, Kiss, and Iron Maiden. To get us there quickly, a Concorde, the world’s fastest commercial jet, was chartered. It took only three and a half hours to cross the Atlantic. A normal flight would have taken like eight. The entire cabin was first-class, prime rib, Sennheiser earphones for the sound system, and your own gift bag when you got to your seat. I looked out when we were at our highest cruising altitude, like sixty-five thousand feet, and I could see blue, dark blue, then indigo, then if I craned my head to look straight up, black! Also, if you looked straight out, you could see the curvature of the earth, just slightly, but it was there. Pretty fucking cool.

We arrived the day before the show. Lars from Metallica was there and we were snorting
anything
that looked like powder. We were doing this pink shit, I don’t know what it was. It could have been crushed-up baby aspirin for all we knew.

Lemmy was there too, and he had a pile of speed on the table about a foot in diameter. All he did was speed. He offered me some, and I just did a little, a real tiny bit. It felt like fiberglass going up my nose. Dave Jr. (that’s what we called Megadeth’s bassist Dave Ellefson) and Dave Mustaine were there too. We had partied many times prior, including smoking up a little heroin.

In the middle of the afternoon we hit the stage. It was a madhouse. Over a hundred thousand kids were cramming against the front. The racetrack was selling these big thirty-two-ounce beers. The kids were drinking, and they weren’t about to go through this whole fucking crowd just to urinate at a stall, so they pissed in the bottles. Before we went on, we were standing at the side of the stage looking at the size of the crowd.

Suddenly, we saw what looked like a swarm of giant locusts flying through the air; they were actually hundreds of these plastic bottles of urine soaring over the crowd. We were like, “What the fuck?”
Bam, pop!
People were getting hit in the head and splattered with pee. But it wasn’t going to change anything. We had gotten spit on, we had bottles of booze and beer thrown at us, and we had gotten in shoving matches with fans and other bands, so what’s a little projectile piss?

I was surprised to see so many Guns N’ Roses banners waving in the crowd. By the time we went on there were 120,000 people screaming and jumping up and down. It was really an impressive sight for us all. Everyone was so out of control, and we had to stop the show several times because people kept rushing the stage. Axl asked the crowd to settle down and back up. People were getting crushed at the front of the stage. It wasn’t until the next day, after we flew the Concorde back to the U.S., that we were told that two kids were killed during our set. They were trampled to death.