Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed (11 page)

But now, today, it’s my birthday and I’ve just finished a long sound-check. All the gear and stage props are in their proper place. The “No Devil” and “No 666” signs are flashing on cue from the lighting director. The sound system is rumbling loud. My guitar sounds great and the 2000 seat Shibuya Public Hall will soon be filled with music fans that likely have no idea about the message behind our music. This makes me nervous. I carefully consider how I should relay our message between songs.
“Do we pray at the end of the set?”
We decide not to.
“How much should we share of our message between songs?”
I’m just not sure.

We do however get together to pray after sound-check and after we’ve had our make-up applied.

About the only words I speak to Kyle during this first part of the trip are to ask her about our make-up and wardrobe. Despite me keeping my distance, she does a great job at making us look our best. Regardless of our distance, she remains a professional, and a caring one at that.

Make-up and wardrobe are in check. The sound and stage setting is in place. We’ve prayed as a group asking for wisdom and strength. All we have left to do is make a few statements for the fans in Japan that will haunt us for the rest of our lives.

This feels like it’s important, so I guess we need to do this. We follow the person in charge to the stage. The hall is still empty. He walks us over to stand in front of our yellow and black amps. He assertively directs us to
“Say something for people of Japan.”

“What do you want us to say? What’s this for?” we ask.

“Just say something for the people of Japan. Not much time. We need quickly,” he says in broken English.

And so we did. Turns out saying something to the people of Japan should have been a little more thought out on our part. They ended up using those interview segments to close out the video as a segment they called “A Message From Stryper.” I wish I had known it would be forever etched in the video history of Stryper. All of us would have planned our speech a little better. I can’t watch those interviews without cringing. They’re embarrassing partially because they’re incongruous with our typical interview style. It’s not as if we were new to the world of being asked questions on camera. We had done dozens and dozens of on-camera interviews by this point, but because of the rushed manner in which we were thrust into these interviews, with no real understanding of who the intended audience was, it came across somewhat insincere and quite corny. But, we were young, and just doing the best we could to get our message out.

My uncertainty on how to relate to a non-English speaking audience is evident during the show, and upon later review of the video, it’s clear I’m a young performer unsure of what to do and what not to do.

We open the show strong coming out of a building keyboard intro going into “Makes Me Wanna Sing” and then we rip into “Loud N Clear” and “From Wrong To Right.” The show feels good at this point but I’m beginning to over-think what I will say between songs.

Our first break comes after “From Wrong To Right” and Robert approaches the front of the stage where we toss a stack of about 50 Bibles into the audience. I can see people scrambling to get their hands on a copy. I should say something
. “Keep it simple,”
I think to myself.

“Stryper rocks for Jesus Christ! You guys having a good time?”

“Maybe that was too simple,”
I second guess myself.
“Should I say something else?”

I don’t. Instead I start playing a riff on my guitar to buy some time until Robert returns to the kit. When he does, we start in on “You Know What To Do” and then go straight into a newer song, “Surrender.” I had revised the lyrics to “Surrender” while in the studio recently. I’m still second guessing what to say and I lose focus on the lyrics. As a matter of fact, I forget them all together.

There’s nothing more nerve racking to a singer than realizing you have no idea what the lyrics are to your song, four bars before the opening line. The more you focus on trying to remember them the harder it is to do so. 4 bars away. 3 bars away. 2 bars. 1 bar. Time to sing. Still, nothing. My mouth opens in hopes that my brain will catch up with it. No such luck. I make up lyrics on the spot having no idea what is coming out but hoping I can regain my composure. Heads in the audience are still bobbing and fists are still pumping, so whatever I’m doing must be working.

I made it through “Surrender” and another break is coming up but I decide to let the music speak for itself, so I go straight in to announcing “Together Forever.” I forget the words again and resort to an older version of the lyrics. Thankfully, Tim moves quickly to the keyboards for “First Love” and it sounds great. I’m proud of the job he does on this tour. We considered bringing Kenny Metcalf to play keys, but it wasn’t in the budget apparently. As with most financial decisions, I don’t question it although I am curious how we can fly God knows how many pounds of signs, equipment and a drum kit the size of a tank, yet we can’t afford a keyboard player.

As the set rolls on, I’m finally becoming more comfortable and really starting to enjoy the show. “Loving You” moves in to “Soldiers Under Command”, where I only forget a few lyrics but it no longer bothers me. We’re having fun and the crowd is responding in kind.

In the studio weeks earlier when cutting the vocals for “Soldiers Under Command”, I attempted a ridiculously high note at the end of the song and nailed it. So as we roll through the same song on stage, I debate attempting to re-create this scream live, but given my lyric amnesia I play it safe thinking my vocal chords might too develop a case of forgetfulness. I can live with ad-lib lyrics being forever etched into history, but a sour note or botched scream I’m not so sure. So as the note approaches, I decide to take it down an octave.

As we come out for the encore, “C’mon Rock”, I notice half-a-dozen yellow roses lying at the front of the stage so I pass them out one by one to the girls in the front row. I’m loosening up quite a bit at this point and wish we could continue on. At one point I even jump on Robert’s drum riser, grab his gong mallet and just start beating away at one of his massive gongs. I may as well give it some use, we paid good money to fly it across the Pacific. We close the show with “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and head back stage all smiles from a rough, but successful night.

The other shows on this tour went much better, but unfortunately this is the one that is captured on video.

We then head to Osaka, back to Tokyo for two shows at Yubin Chokin Hall, and then wrap up our first tour of Japan in Nagoya. We pound out the last shows as a professional rock band would. I get more comfortable on stage in Japan as each show proves to be as successful as the last.

On the train ride back to Tokyo in preparation for our return to the states, we’re all proud of the job we’ve done here. God granted us an opportunity to bring His message to the masses in a way never before done, at least never before done in yellow and black spandex.

The adulation we receive in Japan will later only be rivaled by that of Puerto Rico.

I’m curious as to why we are so popular here. There are very few Christians in this country, so each time we step on stage during this tour I’m slightly skeptical as to the reception we will get, yet as the shows progress, I’m pleasantly relieved to always feel more-than-welcomed. I can only assume our music is about to cross big boundaries.

I’m tired yet excited to get back to Amigo and listen to the final mixes for
Soldiers Under Command
. I sit next to Kyle on the plane ride back to Los Angeles.

SEVENTEEN

“The Church of Satan Welcomes You” was scribbled backwards in red lipstick on the mirror in my room at a low budget motel we were staying at one night during the
Soldiers Under Command
tour.

That tour was my first realization that being in Stryper could become difficult mentally at times. Fortunately I was still young in my faith and I was eager to take on whatever challenges might be thrown my way, without complaint.

Today, if I saw strange messages mysteriously written on my hotel room mirror, I’m not sure how I would handle it. My immediate reaction to this backwards lipstick message was laughter. I assumed that one of the guys in the band was playing a practical joke on me. How else would someone know this was my room? It had to be Rob, Oz or Tim.

But after inquiring further, I discovered it was not a joke. I was a bit thrown off by the whole thing and I suppose I became even more uncomfortable when I realized that this was real.

How could someone have known this would be one of the rooms we’d be staying in? Furthermore, how did they get in the room before I arrived? I never did find out. And surprisingly, it didn’t scare me enough to do anything about it. I just grabbed a paper towel and cleaned it off without giving it much thought.

It was on this tour that I realized I would encounter some strange people in my life, for the rest of my life. Ironically, it became almost impossible to predict who would be “strange.” Christians hated us. Christians loved us. Satanists hated us. Satanists loved us. Atheists hated us. Atheists loved us. It was impossible to predict who was going to support us and who was going to curse the very sight of us. We couldn’t spot our enemies visually—therefore, we couldn’t spot our friends either.

Just because someone was wearing a Motley Crue shirt and a pentagram around his neck didn’t necessarily mean he was our enemy. And someone wearing a “Jesus Saves” T-shirt was equally as likely to throw a rock at my head as someone wearing a “The Devil is my Friend” T-shirt. Although to be perfectly honest, the “Jesus Saves” T-shirts probably cast more stones, at least at the time.

No other band that I know of has had such an inability to distinguish their friends from their foes. Most bands can spot their antagonists from a mile away. Not us. We had an equal number of fans and enemies on both sides of the religious fence.

This was a strange and eye-opening reality that came to fruition during the
Soldiers Under Command
tour.

Very few people were indifferent about us. If you knew about Stryper at this point in our career, you most likely had a strong opinion one way or another. If you were a Christian you either loved us dearly or hated the very thought of our existence. If you were a non-believer, you were equally as likely to accept us for our music and appreciate our freedom of speech as you were to be upset that a “Jesus Band” could possibly infiltrate the world of rock and metal that you held so sacred.

Imagine not being able to spot people who may be opposed to you so passionately they are willing to go to extreme lengths to see you fall, even die. Yes, we received death threats. At one point we were receiving several death threats per week by mail. Most writers seemed harmless and immature, but occasionally they knew just a little too much about our personal lives. We would turn those letters over to the police, but to my knowledge nobody was ever arrested for these threats.

I suppose going into this band, I just assumed that most of the haters would be non-believers. I guess I was naïve. It shocked me the first time I saw Christian’s protesting one of our shows, and this would become a regular routine throughout the
Soldiers Under Command
,
To Hell With The Devil
and
In God We Trust
tours.

I was young and innocent in my spirituality during this time in my life, and as a result, I was willing to do anything required to keep spreading the message that I felt called to share. There was a sense of true innocence in my faith, and all I cared about was serving God. I believe because of this, God started to bless me and this band on a level we never dreamed possible. We were starting to get a taste of success, and it tasted good.

I think back on how little I had then, yet how little I complained about it. If I got a PB&J sandwich for dinner at a show, I was happy and content.

I complain more now than I used to—I believe in part because I forget. I forget that sense of innocence I once had. As I get older, I get tired and exhausted a little easier and that opens the door to bitterness if I allow it. Back during the
Soldiers
era we just never allowed that door to open. Once it does, it’s a difficult one to close as we would discover in years to come.

Had it been 2012 instead of 1986 when someone wrote a welcome message on the mirror in my hotel, I likely would have cancelled the show on the spot. But not then. In 1986 I was ready to conquer the world. Today, I’m a bit less tolerant than I once was.

The tour for
Soldiers Under Command
started in October 1985 and continued almost non-stop through the end of April 1986. It was the first time we had hit the East Coast and we were playing everything from clubs to small theaters and even a few high-school auditoriums. We loved it.

A notable stop on that tour was performing at the Dove Awards in Nashville in April. To say the audience looked like deer in headlights doesn’t even come close to describing what I saw when I looked out from the stage when we began our performance. It looked more like a congregation of Southern Baptists expecting to see a film about The Ten Commandments but instead they were watching a Farrelly Brothers movie. They were shocked to say the least. And I even dressed conservatively that night, wrapping a scarf around my waist just before we went on stage so my spandex pants wouldn’t offend anyone in the first few rows.

I can’t say that I was surprised by the crowd’s initial apprehension. After all, it was artists like Sandi Patti and Michael W. Smith who were the big winners that year. We didn’t exactly fit in. It wasn’t until 1988 with the
In
God We Trust
album that we would win a Dove Award. We’d win two that year—“Hard Music Album of the Year” and “Hard Music Song of the Year” (for the title track).

Those awards shows are always scripted and often have somewhat embarrassing banter between the co-hosts before and after each performance, but I think our night takes the cake. After we played, the male host Pat Boone, said something along the lines that he would rather kids see Stryper than Motley Crue or The Rolling Stones. I was about 10% offended by that. Basically he was saying, “All rock music is garbage, but if you must listen to it, you might as well be listening to Stryper.” I don’t blame Pat for that statement. I’ve presented at the Dove Awards on multiple occasions and I know that the script is written for you. There’s very little room for ad-libbing. Pat was just saying what was on the teleprompter. He probably thought it was a little offensive too. Pat actually supports us and rock music. He even put out a “metal” album once. So I’m sure he, like many who present at these awards, probably feels a bit awkward about some of the statements he has to read.