THE SAINT
08-01-2015, 04:05 PM
MOTLEY CRUE (Vince Neil)
(Vince Neil – The Dirt)
1333813339
One of our first big fans was David Lee Roth. Just a year before, when Van Halen played the Long Beach arena, I was in the parking lot bootlegging concert T-Shirts. Now, Roth was introducing my band. Though we all knew it was not because he loved the music but because he liked picking up the girls who came to see us, we were flattered. We were unsigned, nothing band. He was a rock star.
After our first show at the Troubadour, David came up to me, “Vince,” he said, “Do you know anything about the music business?”
“Yeah, you get gigs and play music,“ I answered.
“No,” he said, “That’s not whatcha do. Meet me tomorrow at Canter’s Deli on Fairfax at three P.M.”
The next day, David pulled up in his big Mercedes Benz with the skull and crossbones painted on. He sat me down and launched into a monologue on the rock business. He named hustlers to avoid, scams to watch out for, and contract clauses to eliminate.
“Don’t go with a small distribution company,” he said between mustard-dripping bites of pastrami. ”You have to have your records in Tahiti. If they’re not in Tahiti, they aren’t anywhere else.”
And he went on: “Don’t just sign with any manager. Don’t take a deal only for the money. You have to watch where the money goes, and how it comes back.”
Everything he had learned in the past seven years he shared with me out of the sheer goodness of his alcohol-addled heart. I had no idea what he was talking about, because I didn’t know anything about the music business. I proved that the very next day, when I turned around and made one of the biggest mistakes of my career. I signed a ten-year management deal with a construction worker who knew less about the industry than I did.
"The bedroom Tommy and I shared was to the left of the hallway, full of empty bottles and dirty clothes. We each slept on a mattress on the floor draped with one formerly white sheet that had turned the color of squashed roach. But we thought we were pretty suave because we had a mirrored door on our closet. Or we did. One night, David Lee Roth came over and was sitting on the floor with a big pile of blow, keeping it all to himself as usual, when the door fell off the hinges and cracked across the back of his head. Dave halted his monologue for a half-second and then continued. He didn't lose a single flake of his drugs."
(Vince Neil – The Dirt)
1333813339
One of our first big fans was David Lee Roth. Just a year before, when Van Halen played the Long Beach arena, I was in the parking lot bootlegging concert T-Shirts. Now, Roth was introducing my band. Though we all knew it was not because he loved the music but because he liked picking up the girls who came to see us, we were flattered. We were unsigned, nothing band. He was a rock star.
After our first show at the Troubadour, David came up to me, “Vince,” he said, “Do you know anything about the music business?”
“Yeah, you get gigs and play music,“ I answered.
“No,” he said, “That’s not whatcha do. Meet me tomorrow at Canter’s Deli on Fairfax at three P.M.”
The next day, David pulled up in his big Mercedes Benz with the skull and crossbones painted on. He sat me down and launched into a monologue on the rock business. He named hustlers to avoid, scams to watch out for, and contract clauses to eliminate.
“Don’t go with a small distribution company,” he said between mustard-dripping bites of pastrami. ”You have to have your records in Tahiti. If they’re not in Tahiti, they aren’t anywhere else.”
And he went on: “Don’t just sign with any manager. Don’t take a deal only for the money. You have to watch where the money goes, and how it comes back.”
Everything he had learned in the past seven years he shared with me out of the sheer goodness of his alcohol-addled heart. I had no idea what he was talking about, because I didn’t know anything about the music business. I proved that the very next day, when I turned around and made one of the biggest mistakes of my career. I signed a ten-year management deal with a construction worker who knew less about the industry than I did.
"The bedroom Tommy and I shared was to the left of the hallway, full of empty bottles and dirty clothes. We each slept on a mattress on the floor draped with one formerly white sheet that had turned the color of squashed roach. But we thought we were pretty suave because we had a mirrored door on our closet. Or we did. One night, David Lee Roth came over and was sitting on the floor with a big pile of blow, keeping it all to himself as usual, when the door fell off the hinges and cracked across the back of his head. Dave halted his monologue for a half-second and then continued. He didn't lose a single flake of his drugs."