Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed (21 page)

It’s important to note, at least to me, the comparison between the
Against The Law
era and the earlier years. All the early days were the real deal. There was no questioning in my mind, nor should there be in anyone else’s, about our genuineness of our faith and relationship to Christ. We were completely committed to God back then. But somehow the muck and garbage started creeping in and as time went by, it was as if hell was seeping in right behind it. It was almost like it was 1981 on Sunset Strip all over again. We reverted back to our old ways, the old man if you will, and I felt a tremendous amount of guilt over it all.

What is truly a miracle about this weak time in our lives, late ’89 to ’91, is that it didn’t blow up in our face. Call it what you will, but I say humbly that it must have been God’s protection—protection that we neither deserved nor were wise enough to ask for. But all of this could have exploded at any time. I’m equally amazed that with all the booze flowing, I never actually ended up sleeping with anyone. I did plenty of promiscuous acts, but somehow it never went beyond that. It had to be God’s protection over us, with Him knowing that one day we’d come to our senses. And He waited patiently for us to do so, as only God can and will do.

We were primed and ready for a huge scandal. We were acting like idiots and for years the press had looked for any reason to bring us down and call us out as imposters. Now was the time they could have done so, and we were making it all too easy. Sometimes we wouldn’t even try to hide our actions. After many a show, we’d sit at the bar, the same bar we had just played, and drink with everyone. Some fans would look at us with disappointment, and rightfully so. I recall one night after playing Hammerjacks in Baltimore, we sat at the bar drinking and one fan stopped by to talk to us. We were doing shots and obviously getting drunk. He approached with a photo in hand wanting to get an autograph, but as he saw what we were doing, he just turned around and walked away, saying nothing, yet with the most disappointed look it his eyes. It was another sword in my heart.

Yet, somehow, none of this made its way to the press.

This timeframe, about 1990, was filled with religious scandal. Jessica Hahn and Jim Baker. Jimmy Swaggart had just made his infamous “I have sinned” speech about a year-and-a-half earlier after being caught with a prostitute. Religious leaders were dropping like flies, so it would seem only natural that our dirty laundry would be hung out for all to see as well. But it wasn’t.

Not to downplay anything we did, because I was truly embarrassed and ashamed by it all, but I do believe there are different levels of scandal. And truthfully, what we were doing probably just wasn’t big enough news for the press. There was Jim Baker and his affair with his secretary. There was Jimmy Swaggart and his joyrides with prostitutes. And then there was Stryper, a Christian rock band drinking alcohol and kissing strange women. Again, I don’t at all downplay what we did. But in comparison to Baker and Swaggart, we just weren’t enough of a scandal perhaps. For whatever reason, God’s protection was over this band and I think for that very reason, our actions never really saw the light of day.

The most saddening part this time in our lives was the spiritual break-up of the band happening long before the physical break-up. In the mid-80s we used to encourage one another to do the right thing. We held each other accountable, as Christians should. We were always lifting one another up, really trying to strengthen each other to be better stewards and examples of Christ. Yet somehow, in a matter of just a few short years, we went from that to,
“Hey man. Wanna go to a strip club tonight?”
We’d laugh and say to another member,
“Let’s go get another case of beer,”
and we’d always just go right along with whatever was at hand. It’s almost as if we were whispering to ourselves,
“Well, if he wants to do it too, it must be okay.”

Once sin creeps its way into your life, it’s hard to turn around. You can’t pull yourself back up on your own, and certainly not while you’re surrounded by people who are helping you dig the hole. This is why we all need Christ. We can’t do it on our own. I can’t do it on my own, and that’s why I’ve devoted my life to serving God, or at least trying to. I need Him. Michael Sweet can’t do this alone. And in 1990, I needed God more than ever to help pull me out of the abyss—but in order for that to happen, I needed to make some drastic changes. God will only help you if you’re willing to yield to Him and turn your life around.

After that really short tour, it came time for me to do some serious soul-searching and attempt to take some major steps to repair my life and my marriage. How I was going to do that, I had no idea. I just knew I needed change, and fast.

THIRTY

In November of 1990 when we came off the road from supporting
Against The Law
, we found ourselves without a record label for the first time since 1983. Through a series of industry maneuvers, mergers, and acquisitions, our key-man at Enigma, Wes Hein ended up at Hollywood Records. We had a clause in our agreement that if Wes ever left, we were free to leave as well, a “key-man” clause. But by this time, our sales were plummeting. Capital/EMI had acquired Enigma, and there were talks of other mergers. Enigma was no more and Wes was now at Disney/Hollywood Records. And we were without a record label. The worst part was nobody really seemed to care or even notice outside our inner circle.

I started talking to Wes about bringing us over to Hollywood Records, and he eventually got everyone else on board, as only he could do. They put up a small amount of money for us to do another album. We were going to record two new songs and re-package the hits for a “best of” compilation record.

But I was done, mentally and physically. The idea of igniting that creative fire and touring again made me sick.

I had already started talking to Robert and expressed to him that I needed a drastic change in my life. I was ridden with guilt over my lifestyle, and it was tearing apart my marriage. He knew the writing was on the wall as well, and if change didn’t happen, I’d be leaving soon. It wasn’t threatening talks that I was having with Robert but instead heart-felt conversations about how unhappy I was. So together we explored options.

Ultimately Rob and I agreed to clean up Stryper. I agreed to stick by Rob and he agreed to be supportive in getting Stryper back on the right path. It wasn’t as if Rob was resistant to cleaning up our act—I think he wanted to as well. But if I’m being perfectly honest, what I think he wanted the most was to keep the band together, and he could see that changing the scenery was something incredibly important to me so that made it important to him as well.

Throughout our career it’s always been kind of a “Robert and me against the world” mentality. The saying that blood is thicker than water holds immensely true in our relationship. I appreciated Robert during these times for wanting to get on board with my idea of change. I think deep down Rob wanted it, too. We probably all did. It was exhausting being who we were, or who we were pretending to be, on the
Against The Law
tour. Aside from the obvious physical exhaustion that our lifestyle provided, it was also spiritually exhausting trying to be something we weren’t.

From the days at Whittier High when Oz’s outburst got us into trouble, we had seen reoccurring patterns of defiance from Oz. We can all be a little defiant at times, but Oz seemed to take it to a new level. I recall in the early ’80s Oz getting punched by Tommy Lee’s bodyguard/bouncer outside the Troubadour in West Hollywood. After a few drinks, Oz decided to moon Tommy and started mouthing off about something. A few seconds later, Tommy’s fist came flying through the crowd in full force, past my face and Robert’s face, as he tried to punch Oz for his “body language.” A few moments later, Tommy’s hit man came over and started punching Oz. That incident was a blur and one of those moments you look back on and think, “How did that happen?” I guess if you show your backside to someone for no apparent reason, you’ll most likely find out.

So aside from being exhausted from all that was going on in my life, it was uncomfortable for me to consider the idea of discussing change with Oz.

I couldn’t, and still sometimes can’t, approach Oz with my thoughts like I can my brother Robert. At least that’s the way I perceive it. I’m sure Oz might say otherwise and probably even say that I’m difficult to approach. It certainly isn’t the case all the time but from my point of view, it can be a little uncomfortable talking to Oz about issues that he doesn’t agree with, no matter the magnitude or significance of the topic. I can open up to Robert, and although we may not see eye to eye, he will at least understand my point of view—but I feel Oz can take a bit more of a defensive approach. Don’t get me wrong, Oz and I have been the best of friends over the years and often he’s been the only one I felt comfortable talking to, but when it comes to certain issues, discussing them with Oz can be a challenge.

At this time, I was entering a chapter in my life where I wanted to get my act together. I wanted to regain my spiritual composure and really focus on my marriage more than my music, and I could talk about these things with Robert, and I did. Robert is even-keeled, slow to anger and a good listener, so I chose to share my concerns with Rob for fear of rebuttal.

I knew I wanted out, but perhaps there were solutions I hadn’t considered. Robert provided a way for me to share my feelings in hopes that just by talking things through, I might find the answers myself. Maybe it was our bond as brothers and growing up together.

We had agreed, through Wes and Hollywood Records, to record two more songs. Rob and I were discussing doing this without Oz. It was the easy way out with less stress and fewer complications. I wasn’t ready to deal with the situation so Robert had a phone conversation with Oz and they eventually settled on Oz playing on one of the two songs we’d be recording. Oz played all guitars on the song “Can’t Stop The Rock,” and I played all guitars on the song “Believe.”

On February 17, 1991, our beautiful daughter Ellena Rae was born. Ellena’s birth helped me to see what was important and what was not. Daily, my focus grew less about Stryper and more about my family. I’m not sure if it’s the same emotional bond for every dad that has a daughter, but Lena’s birth brought some sense of structure to my life and helped me to realize the importance of family first, music second.

Although Kyle and I weren’t supposed to have any more children, Lena’s entrance into this world indirectly brought stability and healing to a broken marriage and a wounded relationship. When Lena was born, it took the doctors an exceedingly long time to revive her and get her breathing on her own. We prayed earnestly for her, and not long after, she cried out and gasped for air. We almost lost her. It was a miraculous moment that seemed to bind our family together in a way like never before. Mikey and Lena both seemed to be miracle babies, and each separate experience of seeing my children born drew me closer to God and ultimately, closer to my family.

Soon after Ellena’s arrival into this world, the band completed recording and on July 20, 1991 we released
Can’t Stop The Rock
, a collection of hits with two new songs. Only a handful of tour dates were planned to support this album. None of us was really in the mood to tour, at least not relentlessly as we had done in the past. And I had a beautiful new baby girl at home who was now the focus of my life.

But in August we scheduled to do a show at The Whiskey in Hollywood, which would be followed by two dates in Germany. I was feeling sick at the Whiskey show and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. The next morning I was feeling worse, much worse. I went to the doctor and discovered I had pneumonia.

As we were scheduled to go to Germany soon, I notified our agent and the guys that we’d need to cancel those two shows. The doctor said I’d be out for at least two weeks. I thought that was optimistic because I felt like I was on my deathbed. Within an hour or so after I notified everyone of my condition, I was down for the count. I got a call back from Rob saying that they felt it would be best if they went over to Germany and fulfilled their obligations. He said this hesitantly, knowing I wouldn’t be happy.

He was right, I wasn’t happy—but not for the reasons they may have assumed. Although I applaud their commitment to the shows, I felt betrayed, not to mention belittled. Was my contribution so insignificant to this band that they felt they could go and do shows without me, and that the fans wouldn’t care?

I couldn’t believe that the guys were going overseas without me while I felt as though I was breathing my last breath in bed. Maybe I was getting a taste of my own medicine since I was so dismissive of Oz’s involvement with the recent recordings. But somehow it felt different. I was the front man for Stryper, but I felt as though they were saying “
Eh. You get your rest. It’s no problem. Nobody will even notice you’re gone. We’ll go play these two shows and be back before you know it.”

That was it. That was the turning point for me. If there was any doubt in my mind whether or not I would remain in this band, this moment sealed the deal. Ten years together and it came down to this—me sick with pneumonia and my band saying,
“Hope you feel better. Get well soon. But you know, the show must go on.”

By this time there was so much animosity and distance between all of us, I didn’t really care what happened.

They returned from the Germany run. I read reports that many fans were disappointed. No kidding. I don’t blame them. If I paid to go hear my favorite band, that’s exactly what I want to do—hear my favorite band, not 75 percent of my favorite band, with the missing 25 percent being the primary voice of my favorite band. I’d be a little upset too. The shows could have and should have been postponed.

December rolled around and we hammered together a string of dates that started in the Northeast and took us through the Midwest and down into Texas. Oddly enough, despite our declining popularity, we sold out two nights in a row at The Union Bar in Minneapolis. This 13- show run wrapped up on December 22, 1991 at the Celebrity Theater in Anaheim, California. I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be my last show with Stryper for almost 10 years.