Life on Planet Rock: From Guns N' Roses to NIRVana, a Backstage Journey Through Rock's Most Debauched Decade

Life on Planet Rock: From Guns N' Roses to NIRVana, a Backstage Journey Through Rock's Most Debauched Decade

Lonn Friend

Language: English

Pages: 197


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

For the generation coming of age in the years from 1987 to 1994, "RIP" magazine was every bit as crucial as "Rolling Stone." "Life on""Planet Rock" describes how Lonn Friend, the editor of "RIP," became the Zelig-like chronicler of the biggest musical moments of that time--from introducing Guns N' Roses (in nothing but a top hat, underwear, and cowboy boots) to sitting in during the making of Metallica's "Black Album." "Life on""Planet Rock" provides revealing portraits of artists as varied as Kurt Cobain, Gene Simmons, Alice Cooper, Axl Rose, James Hetfield, Steven Tyler, and many more. Part oral history, part candid and humorous memoir, it is a wormhole back to a fast-moving time in music that saw tastes flash from new wave to hair metal to grunge, told as only someone who was there through it all could tell it.

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Mardell, thank you for the push into the place of least comfort. And to Ron Meyers, goo goo ga joob, wherever you are, my friend. My deep appreciation to Larry Flynt, the man who set my foot on journalistic turf with no strings attached; to Jim Kohls, Tom Candy, and, above all, the staff, writers, and photographers of RIP magazine, without whom this book would have been considerably thinner—most notably Richard Lange, Kristina Estlund, Stella, Janiss Garza, Katherine Turman, Craig “Purple Reign”

afraid to unite those two attitudes. And remember, the biggest bands will sell the most magazines. So make sure you have a lot of KISS features.” His tone was half-serious, his stature somewhat intimidating. But the message was obvious: You get big, we get bigger. And as I would come to learn in the months and years ahead, with Gene Simmons it was all about size. When my brief lesson was over, he turned his attention to Cheryl, morphing into the goddess enchanter without missing a beat. Gene

Boulevard in Beverly Hills. There was an awesome gourmet Chinese restaurant around the corner called Tse Yang, where I’d taken lots of cool rock folks. It was extremely upscale, but the management loved it when I brought in musicians. I was anxious the morning of our lunch. This was not Mötley Crüe or Ratt. I worried that the Hustler connection that had served me so well within the community of follicle freaks and fun boys might not wash with this new breed of somber rocker. I wondered how I

by Motörhead and the last Guns N’ Roses club performance the world ever saw. But Planet Rock had changed drastically in the span of twelve months. There was a seductive new sound emerging from the rainy streets of Seattle, a town better known for its Boeing aircrafts than for its badass beats. Though the bands that would be kings were still yet to be crowned on a global scale, it was obvious to all in attendance that the shift was on. My relationship with the extraordinary individuals that

me. It wasn’t the Forum on my birthday in front of twenty thousand mad-eyed Guns N’ Roses fans. It was the morning before the first day of my new job in a $250-a-night Manhattan hotel room, and the audience was considerably smaller but far more attentive. “Listen, fellas, I need to tell you something. I haven’t even started my gig yet and I’ve no fucking clue what I’m doing, but I don’t believe in accidents. What do you say I try to sign you guys to Arista Records?” “More beer!” cried Bill Ryan.

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