Bringing Metal To The Children: The Complete Berserker’s Guide to World Tour Domination. Rob Zombie

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СКАЧАТЬ diehards who had joined in the success of what just took place. We looked like we had emerged from the trenches of a desert war, having just survived a fury of colliding bodies and flailing limbs, animated by the sounds of Black Label Society. Our union was much more than that of ordinary fans. We were Berzerkers.

      

      Note from Zakk: By the way, this bullshit about me throwing my fucking guitar in the air and it coming crashing down is an utter load of garbage . . . never fucking happened. Like the majority of this waxed-poetic load of bullshit—“emerged from the trenches of a desert war”? Here’s my question: When was the last fucking time Eric got laid? And did he write this crap in between playing with his Star Wars dolls or whatever make-believe shit he comes up with when he’s all by himself? One word: wow.

      

      World Tour Survival Technique: Play What You Love and What Moves You

      IT’S SAFE TO SAY THAT A LARGE NUMBER OF YOU BERZERKERS ARE NOT only interested in learning about my majestic world of Metal, you are also interested in carving a slice of this musical beast for yourself. That is to say, you play guitar or another instrument of rock, and you plan to attempt some global domination of your own. My first words of advice for you are: Don’t Do It, Save Yourself, Run for Your Life, Turn in Your Badge, Sell the Farm, Run and Pray! That’s what I opted to do when I realized that I would be surrounded by JDesus and his odor for the rest of my life—but to no avail, as his stench still permeates the buses, hotel rooms, and stages wherever I go. However, if you decide to travel down the same imminent Road of Doom that I have, a road of countless back-door reamings, sleepless delirium, and tour buses that smell like prison ass, then I have a few pointers to help you out along the way.

      People always ask me, “Hey, Zakk, got any advice for me or my kid about starting a band?”

      Yeah, here’s some advice—play what you love and what moves you. The running joke, I always say, when me and the rest of my Black Label brethren have driven thirty hours, crossed the sea in a ferry for another seven hours, and arrived in some rat-and-piss-infected shithole, is you better love the music, ’cause sometimes the music doesn’t love you.

      But getting back to playing what you love and what moves you—it sounds easy, right? Well it ain’t.

      I knew a guy, a friend of mine, who would basically change his image more often than I change the blades in the razor to shave my wife’s back, chest, and stomach hair. (Barb told me this is the norm so she probably won’t mind that I mention it here.) In the eighties, when the whole Hair Metal thing was going on, the guy threw on the full look: the big hair, bright clothes, and leather jacket—the works. Then when grunge hit, he switched it up to the flannel shirts and beanies and shit. When the Green Day thing hit, I shit you not, I saw him cruisin’ with a green fuckin’ Mohawk! (This is also something I considered for my wife’s back, chest, and stomach as she looks fantastic in green—it really brings out the color in her eyes.) As each phase of music came and went, so did my buddy’s personal style. He had no real identity of his own or belief in what music he enjoyed listening to, let alone playing.

      If you’re doing that shit, you’re pretty much startin’ out a day late and a dollar short. When Hair Metal was big, the grunge guys, like Alice in Chains and Soundgarden, were already doing their thing. When grunge came in, the Green Day guys were already being who they are and playing their music. All of these musical movements were happening underground, while the popular music was going on. If you’re modeling yourself on whatever is the new thing, then you’ve already missed the boat and don’t even know it! So to prevent this from happening to you, just play the fucking music that gets your dick hard—or your labia swollen.

      I remember when I played in a called band Zyris. We were playing our songs and at the end of the show one night we played “Rock and Roll” by Led Zeppelin. Right then and there, I asked myself, “How come our music doesn’t move me like this? We should be doing kick-ass fucking music like this instead of music that we think is gonna get us a recording deal or on the radio that has absolutely zero fucking passion in it.” So ask yourself, “Why am I doing what’s popular when I can’t stand playing this shit?” When you play what you love, then it’s fucking real. You’ll know the difference. Lesson number one—don’t ever forget that.

      While you’re finding your signature sound, you’ve also gotta have the balls to stick to your game plan. What would have happened if Chris Cornell had turned on the radio and heard “Cherry Pie” by Warrant and went for what he thought would be popular at the time? Instead of Soundgarden it would have become Spandex-Hairspray Garden. He may have known what the fuck was going on, but he was like, “I can’t stand this shit.” He played and wrote the shit he dug and steered the ship steady. Nothing for nothing, so did Warrant. They didn’t give a fuck what anybody thought about them. They were like, “This is us. You don’t like it? Go eat a bag of fucking dicks.”

      Not to get sidetracked, but since we mentioned Chris’s name here, I’ve got a pretty fucking funny story.

      I remember getting completely hammered and making the usual roll-through-your-fucking-phone-book-until-somebody-will-deal-with-your-drunken-bullshit phone call. Well, on this occasion, I happened to get Father Edward Van Halen on the other end of my stupidity. Anyway, Ed told me that he had been recording a bunch of new shit and was really happy with the way it was coming out.

      “Awesome, I can’t wait to hear you killin’ it, as always, Father Edward!” I said.

      At this point, Gary Cherone was no longer singing with the band. So I asked Ed, “Who’s singing?”

      Ed said, “We’re thinking about asking Chris Cornell to be the new lead singer.”

      “Oh cool,” I said, “Chris is fucking unbelievable!”

      And then it dawned on me: “Wait . . . How in the fuck is this gonna work?” Then I’m trying to picture Father Cornell jumping around in spandex, doing splits off the drum riser, and then walking up to Eddie and going, “Ah . . . I reach down in between my legs, ease the seat back . . .”

      You gotta be fucking kidding me! It would be a toss-up to see what the fuck would be funnier, this musical comedy delight or seeing George Carlin do his stand-up routine. I love David Lee Roth; nobody can do it like Dave. Chris is the complete fucking opposite of DLR.

      I said, “Cool, Ed. Chris is the man.” I wasn’t about to piss on Ed’s parade by saying, “Ed, have you heard some of Chris’s lyrics? Nail in my hand from my creator. You gave me this life, now show me how to live. You know . . . then just transition into Got a drink in my hand, got my toes in the sand, all I need is a beautiful girl—fucking classic! Hopefully between the fucking spandex and the titanic vats of booze and weed, nobody will notice a fucking thing. After I pissed and shit my pants from envisioning this musical comedy that could only be rivaled by Chappelle’s Show, I thought, “Why the fuck stop here?”

      Hey, Chris, if you’re reading this, here’s a short set list that me and your army of fans would all love to hear you sing. These are very much in the spirit of the musical stylings we would expect to hear from you. These songs obviously represent every ounce of integrity for which you’ve worked so hard for throughout your career:

      

      “She’s Only Seventeen,” Winger

      “Unskinny Bop,” Poison

      “Talk Dirty to Me,” Poison (They’re so fucking badass, I had to list Poison twice!!!)

      “Cherry Pie,” Warrant

      “Wango СКАЧАТЬ