My Appetite For Destruction (37 page)

O
ne evening Adams, Chuck, and I hit the town for a night of drinking. On the way down, Adams and Chuck were going on about how they hoped to meet some ladies. I felt the same way, but I said, “Y’know, I don’t even want to think about it, because when I do, it doesn’t happen.”

We arrived at the Rainbow, where a friend told me there was a cute girl from Argentina who was dying to meet me. He described her as a petite, well-endowed brunette wearing a tight Slash’s Snakepit shirt. I was flattered but blew it off for the most part. We headed down to the Cat Club, located next to the Whisky. My old buddy Slim Jim Phantom had opened the place a few years before. We went out to the back porch, and there she was. She was a vision of loveliness, cute, innocent, and very sexy. At the sight of me, she became terribly excited, bouncing up and down with a radiant smile. Her name was Carolina, a twenty-two-year-old Argentinean. As attracted as I was to her, the lure of the drugs forced me to retreat home. Before I did, however, I gave her my number and told her she could swing by my house the next day.

Chuck spent the night, and the next morning I asked him if I could borrow his car, telling him I was going to 7-Eleven. Just before I left, Carolina phoned. I gave her directions and invited her over. I scored some shit, and when I returned, Carolina was waiting outside. I smiled and greeted her. I brought her in. Chuck was still asleep. I woke him and asked him to help keep her company; I was going to party in private for a few minutes. I told him, “Just keep her occupied.”

“What do I tell her?” he asked.

“I dunno, tell her I’m cleaning.” And that’s what he did. Guess I was cleaning the bathroom for three hours.

That evening I invited Carolina to stay. In fact, after getting to know her over the next few days, I knew that I wanted her to stay with me permanently. Besides being a virgin, she was truthful and down-to-earth. There were no head games to play with her. I liked her honesty, her lack of ulterior motives. Keeping her around would be no easy task as she was in the States on a visa that was to expire the following week.

As the months passed, Carolina and I fell in love. Her feelings for me helped to disrupt my abusive ways, and I started to party less regularly. I found myself going out more, pulling myself out of the darkness with Carolina on my arm. Caro, as I came to call her, must have been heaven-sent, because by this point, the partying needed to stop, and she gave me the strength to at least try. Slowly, I began to feel whole again. We did loving things together, like buying a dog, another Irish pug. We named her Shadow after the old
GNR
song “Shadow of Your Love.” She became our pride and joy, our little baby.

This could have been one of the most joyful times in my life, but for whatever reason, my family did not approve of Caro. Jamie in particular was a complete pain in the ass. He would be civil around us, but then he would turn around and tell my mom and all my friends terrible lies. He would say mean, destructive shit, like Caro was using me just to stay in the U.S.

Finally it got to the point where there was no way he and I could live under the same roof. Caro and I moved into my Studio City condo. But Jamie was persistent in his attempts to drive a wedge between me and my girl. He sank to an absolute new low when he had one of his Spanish-speaking friends call Caro’s dad in Argentina and fabricate an insane story, saying I was pimping Caro out to turn tricks on the street and I would use the money she brought in to buy drugs.

Thankfully, Caro’s father sensed this was a load of crap and immediately called his daughter. When Caro told me what her father said, I wondered just how far Jamie was capable of going. I knew in my gut that Jamie might be vindictive enough to call
INS
. I just couldn’t risk his talking to some immigration officer, so something had to be done.

I
called Chuck and told him that Caro and I got married. We in fact hadn’t, but I insisted he post it on the web page. Chuck had started a small website for me, “The Official Steven Adler Fansite.” It had grown quickly, averaging over a hundred hits a day, and I knew how news could explode on the web. I figured once my brother read this, or heard about it, he’d back off. The news spread quickly, and I even got a call from the
Hollywood Reporter
congratulating me, stating that they were going to print the wedding news. The plan must have worked because Jamie finally laid off.

And honestly, as far as my true feelings for Caro went, we may as well have been married. A few days later, my buddy Steffan was hanging out with us. I overheard Steffan ask Caro when she was planning to leave and go back home to Argentina. She never responded because I answered for her. I told Steffan, “Never.” Caro was here to stay. I wanted her by my side forever.

Maybe my brother mellowed after realizing I truly loved this woman, because in August 2002, Jamie arranged for me to travel to Argentina to perform with Gilby Clarke. I saw this as a gesture on his part to gain some measure of redemption. The plan was for me to make an appearance during his band’s encore and be paid handsomely for it. Unfortunately, Caro would not be able to travel with me, as the visa circumstances would have prevented her from returning to the States with me.

In Argentina, we arrived at the hotel, where throngs of people awaited us. We got out of the van, and our entourage had to cross the street surrounded by the masses. I was immediately overwhelmed, so joyful that I was being received this way. I took my time, signing everything the fans shoved in front of me.

Gilby had already crossed the road and was yelling at me, “C’mon, man. Let’s go.” He was very annoyed with me. But y’know what? The unconditional love I felt at that moment was helping to heal me. The trip was definitely therapeutic. It took me a full hour to reach the other side of the road. I rejoined Gilby, who was just irrationally pissy. Once inside our rooms, it was hard to ignore the chanting outside. “Steven! Steven! Steven!”

T
hat evening, I got to spend time with Caro’s family. I met her dad, who was a truly wonderful person and a well-respected businessman in the city. I just fell in love with Caro’s lovely sisters. Her entire family was so hospitable, gracious, and loving. I could see why Caro was the way she was, so loving, so secure.

When Gilby’s band played that evening, they received a very nice response. When I was brought on for an encore, the entire place exploded. The fans charged the stage in a total frenzy, and I again felt this wonderful rush of affection. It’s been said that addicts merely replace one addiction with another during their life. Imagine if I could replace drugs and self-loathing with love and self-respect; that would be one hell of a swap!

We did another show with a similar fanatical response, plus Gilby and I did a TV interview. It was the absolute best experience. I had signed a young fella’s arm our first day there, and when I saw him again, I was blown away
.
He had my signature tattooed on his arm. God bless you, man. God bless Argentina.

Sadly, the boys in Gilby’s band, and Gilby himself, were upset with me. No one spoke to me the entire plane ride home. When we arrived at
LAX
, I hoped to catch a ride with one of the guys. They took off so fast, leaving me in the dust before I could even ask. I had to hail a goddamn cab. But I had been through this countless times before: amazing highs and lows in a single day.

It kills me to admit this, but as happy as I was, I could not escape the lure of the drugs entirely. I was back in my old condo, close to my old connections. Caro would get terribly upset with me, and that helped me make one of my boldest decisions yet. I was going to buy a house in Las Vegas, right down the street from my mom, who had moved to Vegas several years earlier and loved it. I felt this would be an effective way to distance myself from all the temptation.

O
nce we arrived in Vegas, I gleefully hugged my dad Mel, my brother Kenny, my nephew Max, and of course my mom. I was proud of Kenny, although we seldom had much contact. Kenny and his wife had raised my sweet nephew Max, a loving, handsome boy, the pride of our family. We piled into the car and Mom took us to our new home, in the upscale Las Vegas Country Club community. We moved into a beautiful three-bedroom habitat. At my request, we had the interior redone in wood paneling and mirrored walls, and Mom made sure the fridge was stocked with my favorite snacks. I was upbeat about this transition; it was the right move, and it was going to work out.

As the months passed, I found myself battling the devil again, getting bored and restless. So I did what any self-destructive loser would do in this situation: I sought out a new drug connection. I had a bike, and every day I would pedal out to pick a little something up. I wasn’t going near heroin again, but I had no problem hooking up with the other mistress, crack cocaine. It was my private little way to ward off the terrible monotony that permeated my life now.

Caro is the most patient person I know. She’s been exceptionally good to me. We could argue an entire day, but when I awake the next morning, she’s still there to say “I love you.” So many times I felt that I wasn’t doing much for her, so I was happy when she started to make friends in Vegas and was able to get out more often. Whenever we could, we would go see a concert. I always managed to score some backstage passes, something I know she enjoyed.

On New Year’s Eve 2002, I was invited to check out former Mötley Crüe vocalist Vince Neil’s band. They were great, and I was so happy when Vince himself invited me onstage to perform an impromptu version of Zep’s “Whole Lotta Love.” Vegas resident and Quiet Riot vocalist Kevin DuBrow joined us too. Kevin was so much fun that evening. He had the greatest bluesy voice and his trademark striped mike stand and ever-present suspenders. Kevin will be sorely missed; he left us way too soon, a victim of a cocaine overdose in 2007.

Afterward I was approached by an excited fan, Ryan. Now, Ryan was a nice genuine fellow, and he brought Caro and me a round of drinks. He told us he owned a very successful ticket service. We exchanged numbers and agreed to get together soon. We started hanging out often, with him taking Caro and me out regularly. As we got to know each other better, Ryan suggested a way to get me playing regularly again. He was close to Slash’s Snakepit guitarist Keri Kelli. Ryan wanted to get us together, potentially to form a new band. He also offered to be my temporary manager. I happily agreed and a real bond began to develop.

I gave Ryan the names of some people I would have liked to work with, and he did his best in securing them. I had suggested another former Snakepit member with whom I was already friendly. This was Eric Dover, the vocalist. I also wanted my buddy Steffan to join us on bass. They turned us down, however, much to my regret.

So Ryan went to work and tapped the old L.A. band Love/Hate’s vocalist, Jizzy Pearl, who was currently singing for Ratt. This built some momentum, and soon, Brent Muscat, my old buddy from Faster Pussycat, was joining us on rhythm guitar. Keri’s buddy Robbie Crane completed the lineup.

I will always owe a debt of gratitude to Ryan for helping me put my band together. I had the idea to tour, solely playing the songs that I had helped write for
GNR
so many years before. We would perform nearly all the tracks from the now legendary
Appetite for Destruction
album. The name for our new band: Adler’s Appetite.

I flew to Orange County, California, to join the guys for our first rehearsal. Keri had a house, as well as his own studio, in the OC. The guys had already learned the songs. It was magic and felt so right, particularly because note for note, Keri sounded like Slash. Brent took the loose rhythmic approach that I loved so much about Izzy’s playing. Robbie pounded the bass like the pro he is. Jizzy, well, Jizzy hit those high notes with the kind of vengence that made Axl famous.

Ryan booked our first show in Arizona, which served as a warm-up gig for our official debut. It was in Boulder Station Casino at the Railhead Lounge. Word got out to the press, and
Rolling Stone
sent a reporter over to spend three days with the band, interviewing me, Ryan, and my mom, who had decided to come along.

If anybody doubted my claims about being unfairly treated and the way I was fired from Guns N’ Roses, they can now consider the fact that since Axl axed me, he’s found an excuse for kicking
everybody
out of the band. He put together a new Guns N’ Roses, complete with a cast of unknowns.

I told the
Rolling Stone
reporter, “I’m giving the fans just what Axl offers: one original member and the music they love so much.” Whereas Axl’s band sounds disjointed and soulless, our band conveys the hungry, underdog spirit that the original Guns N’ Roses possessed.

W
hen the
RS
story came out, I was deeply upset. It was basically a “Where are they now?” type of article. I was given a few paragraphs, but unfortunately, they only used the stuff I had revealed about my still being a drug user. We had covered so much positive, uplifting stuff, but for the sake of selling their rag, they focused on the negative.
RS
ended the article with a quote from my mother revealing her constant fear of my suicidal tendencies and what it might lead to: “I dread the day that I receive the
call.
”

I was so pissed about the sensationalistic content of the article that I swore off ever speaking to them again. Just a few months later, however,
Rolling Stone
redeemed themselves in my eyes. In their “100 Greatest Albums of Rock ’n’ Roll” issue,
Appetite
landed the number 64 spot. They specifically cited my drum technique having a powerful effect on the overall sound of our band.