My Appetite For Destruction (19 page)

M
y contributions to the record took six days, start to finish, and I was done. On the other hand, Axl would insist on doing his vocals
one line at a time,
and that took much longer
.
Nobody wanted to be around when he was in the studio because his Talmudic recording methods drove everyone nuts. It was beyond what a perfectionist would demand. And it soon became obvious to us that it was obsession for the sake of obsession. Pretty soon the rest of the band just kind of slipped out to go to the bathroom and neglected to come back. We just preferred to be off campus drinking and partying while Axl was driving the engineers and techs out of their skulls.

While we were in the midst of recording, I remember Mike and Alan really didn’t think the album was going to do shit. They felt that our songs were pretty much standard been-there, done-that hard rock fare. They were surprisingly vocal about it and it got back to us that Mike didn’t think he was working on anything special. I remember a kind of ho-hum atmosphere in the booth at the time, and though I liked Mike, he certainly wasn’t kissing our ass by any stretch of the imagination. There’s a story about how when they shot our first music video, “Welcome to the Jungle,” they felt the same way about it: nothing special. That might have changed because, as legend has it, when they were doing color correction of the final cut in the edit bays a couple of girls from the office slipped in to peek at it because they thought it was the “coolest video ever.”

A
fter my tracks were done, I wasn’t asked to get involved in any of the rest of the recording or mixing. Slash and Axl, however, went to New York to contribute to the final stages of the process. Joining them on the trip was our longtime friend Todd Crew. Todd had been part of the band’s inner circle from the beginning. He was a shit-kicking, hard-drinking, exceptionally cool guy. He played bass in another band called Jetboy that originated in San Francisco. When they kicked Todd out of Jetboy, we were the first band to tell them, “Screw you, you’re done as far as we’re concerned. You’re never gonna do shows with us.”

Axl, Slash, and Todd flew to New York to oversee the mixing on
Appetite.
Todd never made it back. I don’t know what happened exactly, because I wasn’t there. I heard that he and Slash were partying, shooting heroin, and Todd passed out. Slash and Todd must have gotten separated at some point and Todd overdosed and died.

No one could believe it when we got the news back in L.A. It was the most terrible shock that I had ever absorbed at that point in my life, beyond devastating. I didn’t want to eat, talk, or get out of bed. No way there could be justice in a world that would let a sweet beloved friend like Todd slip away. The band had friends who were so close, so devoted, that we considered them to be members of
GNR
who merely didn’t appear onstage. Todd was one of these, and I truly felt I had lost a brother.

A week or so later, Slash and Axl returned. Their mood was beyond dark, and they avoided all calls. It was a horrible, bleak time for all of us, and it wouldn’t go away. Each day there would be about a millisecond after I woke up where I’d smile at the sun; then it would hit me, and I’d spend the rest of the day reeling from my feelings over Todd’s death.

Eventually, the dark clouds lifted because they had to. There was intense pressure from the label to get on with completing the album. If it were up to us, I think we all would have preferred to just lay low for a couple of months, but we were learning that many decisions were not entirely ours to make anymore. Massive amounts of money were pouring into the launch of the album, dates had been set, and commitments were carved in stone. But this is what I loved about my band at this stage in my life. Guns N’ Roses was a living, breathing presence that knew how best to survive. No attitude, no petulance, just an organic desire to live and prosper. We didn’t get rebellious or negative about the pressure; we just found a way to harness the love that Todd had shared with us and decided that rather than wallow in sorrow and self-pity, we could use
Appetite
to climb out of our depression. It worked, and I will tell you this: it worked because we honestly thought Todd would have wanted it that way, and no amount of bribery or bullshit from Geffen would have worked to make us finish
Appetite
if we hadn’t believed that to be so. Death had knocked at the door, made us feel mortal for the first time, and
GNR
used
Appetite for Destruction
to rage against it.

S
lowly the work carried us through our painful recovery. To this day, when people come up to me and tell me that
Appetite
is the greatest record in creation and is the soundtrack for their lives, I believe that some of the magic in that album is owed to our love for Todd. The agony we had to work through pushed us further than any musicians had ever pushed themselves to deliver their absolute best onto that vinyl. And somehow we knew it; we knew we had cooked up something very special.

We got ahold of everybody who was anybody in our lives to get together at the Hell House for the “unofficial world premiere.” It was to be our first listen to our new album. Wes, Del, the Naked Skydiver chicks, Jo Jo, everybody was there sitting around like kids waiting to see
The Wizard of Oz.

Slash cued up
Appetite for Destruction
for the first time ever and as soon as “Welcome to the Jungle” came on, everybody cheered. Slash and I turned to each other and hugged; we were so happy. We listened to both sides, pretty much saying, “Oh yeah, that’s working, that sounds cool,” throughout. Everybody,
everybody,
was very impressed with what Axl did with his vocals. Funny thing though, I don’t think Axl was even there. God knows what he was doing. Actually, I don’t even think God knows what Axl is doing half the time.

“Paradise City” came on, and at the end of it, where it’s got my drum fill that sounds like a double bass, I noticed something different. I know I did that fill only once in the studio. But Slash had the idea to repeat it somehow. I asked him right then and there, and he admitted the idea came to him in the studio. The second fill is actually the first fill played backward. There was a moment of tension as Slash looked at me like, “So I did it and it’s done.”

I smiled. “Dude, cool. Totally fucking cool.” I had always played it, live onstage, with just the one fill. But it worked and it was completely all right with me because I respected Slash’s call, and I knew in my heart that he did it to make the album as awesome as it could be, and that was my wish too.

I
guess I can justify my going along with Slash because I felt the fill worked and somehow improved the total climax to “Paradise City,” or maybe it was because I was Steven, the smiling softie, the let’s-all-just-get-along member of the band. Or maybe my self-esteem sucked and I wasn’t willing to fight Slash in a battle I knew I’d already lost. Regardless, I didn’t spend much time thinking about it, because the record was done, in the can. While we waited for its release, we found ourselves with a lot of free time.

Slash took a vacation in Hawaii. He had been partying really hard and needed to dry out. Physically, he was torn up pretty badly. His hands were trembling, shaking all the time. The trip was a personal get-it-together thing for him. There are some amazing party stories about us, but the truth was that we were all starting to show the wear and tear. It ain’t the years, it’s the mileage, and we had been on an incredible journey, working and partying harder than any dozen men. It was really starting to take its toll.

The fact is, when it came to drugs, everyone in the band was very private and secretive. Nobody told anybody anything about their preferences. Plus, we were all pretty greedy bastards. So when we were holding, we wanted it all. It wasn’t like we were eager to turn one another on to our limited, or unlimited, supply. A few weeks later, Slash returned from the islands in considerably better health and spirits. We were a team again, ready to roll.

I
n May, we were given a great opportunity to do a single show with Alice Cooper in Santa Barbara. We all were huge Alice fans, and it would have been our first really big show. Alan went out of his way to hook it up for us. The venue was a beautiful outdoor theater. The bill was officially booked, and we were so fucking excited. Imagine opening for one of your all-time favorite heroes.
Killer
is one of the greatest albums ever recorded: “Under My Wheels,” “Be My Lover,” “Desperado,” “Halo of Flies,” and the title track. I remember wearing out the grooves on both sides of that LP.

On the day of the show, we all piled into our new white van (we got another one after Slash totaled the first), while Axl was just standing there, outside. We were yelling to him, “C’mon, Axl.”

He was all like, “Naw, I’ll meet you there; some chick is gonna take me.”

“Fuck that chick. C’mon, for the band.”

That was our saying back then: “We’re doing it for the band.” That was our thing; we always said that. “We’re gonna get drunk tonight—
for the band
.” Or “We’re going to come on her face—
for the band.
” I don’t know what Axl’s issue was, but he insisted he get to the concert his own way, and what Axl wants . . .

Alice and his whole band were great
.
At the time Alice’s band featured Kane Roberts on guitar, this bodybuilder dude who dressed like Stallone’s Rambo. Eric Singer played drums. He went on to join my heroes in Kiss. Kip Winger was on bass, and he did a successful solo project a few years later.

They were giving us a fantastic opportunity, a great break, by letting us open the show. Hell, our record wasn’t even out yet. We were ready to go, but sure enough, someone was still missing. Next thing you know, we’re supposed to be on in five minutes and everyone is screaming, “Where’s Axl?” We stalled as long as we could, but we really had to get out there out of respect for Alice.

At eight o’clock we hit the stage as scheduled. Without Axl, we just did our best and improvised. We did “It’s So Easy” and Duff sang. After that, we just performed blues jams. We would always include a blazing blues jam in our sets, so we still managed to rock out for the audience, and I don’t think they felt incredibly cheated. Izzy and Duff screamed a few words here and there. Duff’s tech, Mike “McBob” Mayhue, may have sung something too. Bottom line was, without Axl present, we didn’t deliver the true Guns N’ Roses as promised. We just played, packed up our shit, and got out of there. Because of my worship for Alice, and my feeling about what Guns N’ Roses was about, it was one of the most humiliating nights of my life.

Afterward, we were all pissed, and for one infuriating moment, we all considered kicking him out of the band. But we realized there was nothing we could do. The album had already been recorded and Axl was an integral part of our image and sound, so we never actually talked about getting another singer. I know this sounds like Axl got off easy, but we couldn’t even dwell on it for that long. Shit was happening with the album release and we had to keep a calm head to make decisions.

Alan called us in for a meeting and he chose El Compadre, the Mexican restaurant across from Guitar Center on Sunset. He knew that by having it there, he would have the most luck in potentially bringing in all of us because we loved that place. Accompanying Alan was a white dude in his late twenties sporting an outrageous mullet cut. Alan said, “Boys, meet your new tour manager, Dougie Goldstein.”

Dougie extended his hand to shake each of ours. He sported an infectious smile, ear to ear. He just seemed
so cool.
He was genuinely excited about working with us, and his enthusiasm was real. He told us that from that point on, we wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He assured us that if we had any problem, anything at all, we could count on him. He had a winning way about him, a confidence, and we believed him. After the meeting, we decided to celebrate and hit up some other bars on the Strip. We all piled into Alan’s truck. There wasn’t much room for that many of us, so I said, “I’ll sit in the back.”

He responded angrily, “Fuck that, Steven, you’re a member of this band. You’re just as important as everybody else. Let me sit back there.” I thought, “Now, that’s cool. That’s walkin’ the walk.” During the months that followed, I went on to believe I could trust him; I felt that I could tell him anything. I felt very close to Dougie, and in retrospect maybe
too
willing to share with him.

Later that month, Alan came to us and announced, “You all gotta get passports, we’re going to England.” Our
Live!? Like a Suicide
EP was hot, hot, hot and loved by both rock critics and our rapidly growing legions of fans.
Appetite,
our full-length record, wasn’t out yet, so to promote our shows we prereleased a single, “It’s So Easy,” in the UK for our tour.

At last, I was off to see the world as I’d always dreamed. This was my first time out of the country, and I was bringing my rock band with me. We partied from the time we got on the plane until we passed out in our London hotel rooms. It was nonstop insanity. We were all pretty much travel virgins, except for Slash, who was actually born in England in a town called Stoke-on-Trent. I suggested we swing by the old homestead while we were over there, but Slash had no interest in visiting his birthplace.

When we arrived in England on June 19, it was cold and gloomy, and it remained like that for the duration of our stay. We were scheduled for three shows during the next ten days, and as I was a bit of a history buff, I became completely fascinated with the place. At night I would look at the narrow gaslit cobblestone alleys and think to myself, “Wow, Jack the Ripper probably stalked these very streets.”