Tales Of A RATT (19 page)

Anyone who tells you a virgin can't get pregnant needs to go fuck themselves. I'm here to testify.

When she told me, I tripped out in a big way. It was a huge, life-changing moment for both her and I. The only reason i’m discussing this is because I know she speaks of it when she does her spoken word shows. She tells me that I have to go and tell Frank and Gloria.

Frank Zappa.

I'm going, "There's no fucking way!” I couldn't go in front of Frank and tell him that I had knocked up his baby girl during a one-night stand! That's like going in front of Don Corleone and telling him you won't do business with him, right after you've shown him your prize race horse!

Only, it wasn't going to be a horse's head was going to wake up next to!

I couldn't do that. There was no way that was going to end well.

Moon and I were good buddies. We cut up a lot, and talked about random shit. She was a good friend. Then, somehow, we get drunk one night and our lives are turned on their asses.

I haven't talked to Moon in many years, but Moon is a beautiful person.

“Invasion of Your Privacy” was a chance for us to solidify our position as one of the dominate bands of the era. We did that, I feel, but it fell a little bit short in terms of super-stardom. Our egos were getting bigger than the reality of our press, and as a consequence, we were falling short of our potential.

You can blame the management for cracking the whip so hard and so often. You can blame the general discourse and bickering that was soon to come. You can blame the sheer burnout that was the result. But, somewhere along the way, around the end of 1985, RATT became something different. We weren't the raw, lean and nasty band we were on the EP, just TWO YEARS EARLIER! We were becoming something else. Something cannibalistic in nature. Something that was slowly, and deliberately destroying itself with its own success.

Marcus, and our cat Meeka, Marc was 7.

Marcus, Michael, and Me, skiing Mammoth, 2008

Marcus, Me, Michael, my good bro Mike Smith at Dodgers game, 2008.

I always said, "If I ever get a gold record, I'm buying a Trans-Am.” I've always loved Trans-Ams. We were home for four days to shoot the "Back For More" video, and Out of the Cellar was gold.

I went down and bought a Trans-Am. It's odd, thinking about it. My dad died in a Pontiac. Interesting, how my favorite car was also a Pontiac. Thankfully, the omens didn't carry over, because I sure had a hard-on for Trans-Ams.

I remember going down to the lot and doing all the stuff that goes along with buying a new car. I don't remember what the financing was, but I put down something like $5000. They took pictures and everything, then called me back later in the day and said they couldn't do the deal.

I was like, "What? That's bullshit!” But, they wouldn't sell. So, fine. Fuck 'em.

I went to another place and got another car. I didn't care. In the end, all I wanted was my red Trans-Am.

That was when we were shooting the "Back For More" video. We were in off the road just long enough to do the video. In fact, my car is in the "Back For More" video. If you watch, when Warren and Juan leave the restaurant and get into the bright red Trans-Am, that's my Trans-Am. Robbin and me were in a Mercedes, and Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee were playing cops. They drag me out of the car and act like their kicking the shit out of me on the curb.

So, I had my first official "toy" as a result of RATT. There were many more soon to come.

Of course, I didn't get to drive that Trans-Am much before we were back out on tour. Which was fine. It gave Jeni a good car to drive. That was nice. We'd never had nice cars, or anything like that. I mean, we had a couple that were good. There was the demo Mustang from Manhattan Beach Ford. That one was nice. I had a Cougar that wasn't bad. But, we had never owned a brand new car. That Trans-Am was our first one.

Jeni was a good woman. She made a lot of sacrifices during those early years, and when we made it, she kept it tight. She didn't overspend, or anything like that. I bought her a BMW, and some other nice shit, but we didn't get extravagant. Except for cars. When we got back from that first tour, I went car nuts.

When we were home shooting "Back For More," it was the summer of 1984, and we were home for four days. Two of those days, we were shooting the video. One of those days, I bought the Trans-Am, and on the fourth day, I saw Dokken for the first time.

Don Dokken was having a party. He calls me up, and is like, "Yeah, me and the guys from Great White are having this party. Why don't you stop by?”

So, I came by and parked my "pretty, red cock on wheels.” Don knew I was getting the car, and of course, he had already told everybody.

"Man, Blotz just went out and bought a brand new fucking Trans-Am!”

So, everybody was coming out to look at it. There were a lot of people at this party that were fans. I didn't even know most of them. The fans were "RATTING out" in very short order; coming by to say hi; professing their devotion to the band; all those things that fans tend to do when they see their idols.

This one chick pulls "Out of the Cellar" out.

Now, mind you that Don Dokken was out of his mind with envy. His band hadn't broken yet, although “Breaking the Chains” had been released and had minimal success, and he wasn't dealing well with the fact that RATT had. They were signed with Elektra, but they weren't yet headed where we were. I was in the middle of a huge tour while he was sitting at home. We were all over MTV every half hour, and he wasn't. He was just eaten up with jealousy.

Then this chick puts in the "Out of the Cellar" cassette. Don comes into the room, and just flips out.

"Who fucking put that in?!? Who put that in?” This poor chick is like, "I did.” He looks at her like she just took a shit on his carpet, and he wants to rub her face in it.

Don pulls the cassette out of the player, and starts yanking the tape out of it! He's flipped! This tape is ruined, and piling up on the floor around his feet.

I just looked at him, like, "Are you out of your mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I split the party. It was just too damned weird. Don was my friend, and had been for years and years. And, it wasn't like I left with him not being my friend anymore. Not at all. It's just that when Don has an episode, like Don tends to do, it's better to call it a day, and try it again, tomorrow. You know what I mean?

Don is, and always will be, a little bit crazy.

A lot of people were freaked out that Don would have the balls to do something like that right in front of me. But, with Don, if you know him, you sort of understand.

It's like watching a shark go into a frenzy. Their eyes roll back white, and they just lose all rationale. That's Don! He couldn't have time to think, "There's Blotzer, standing there while I do this jack-assed, juvenile, off the wall act.” He simply descends into an absolute reckless abandon.

In a way, I actually savored that moment. Especially in light of what happened in 1998 with Don. Because, it was like, "You fucking little geek. Everyone just saw you do that in your prissy little jealous rage, and all it did was make me look better. What the hell are you thinking?”

So, I just left, which made him look even worse. I didn't make a big scene. I didn't act all pissed off. I just said, "Hey, see you later!”

That night was a pretty shitty night, all things considered.

When I left Dokken's party, I went up to Hollywood to hang out at the Rainbow. When I was getting ready to leave, the valet pulled my Trans-Am up to the front door.

I looked up and saw Blackie Lawless from WASP standing there. He was walking by with whatever chick he was banging in his coffin that night. He takes a look at my car, then at me, and he squints his eyes, as if to say, "You fucking cocksucker.”

What's he do? He jumps on my car, drops an elbow on it, and puts a dent in my brand new Trans-Am! I jumped out of the car and came around swinging, but people got in between it. He squirted away to his ride and took off down Sunset Blvd.

I jumped back into the car and took off after him. I chased him down Sunset and was doing everything I could do to get him pulled over. We were flipping each other off, and yelling. Granted, Blackie is probably 6'4" or 6'5", and could probably kick my ass, but I didn't care. I was going to get a piece of his sorry ass one-way of the other. I could have chewed his fucking eyeball out. He never did pull over.

I was really disappointed that.

Irony of ironies, it was probably Don who popped that dent back out for me.

Go figure.

1984, in a limo going to the Grammys in a pink suit.

1984, New York City. A shoot with Mark (Weiss guy) Weiss, for Faces Magazine cover for New Years Eve. Photo by Mark Weiss.