Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon (10 page)
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Authors: Pamela Des Barres
BOOK: Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon
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The eleventh tour of the United
States started on April Fool’s Day 1977—a month late due to Robert’s tonsillitis. Peter’s wife had left him. Jimmy was weak and listless. He, Richard, and half the road crew were strung out on smack. Bonzo, Peter, and one of the roadies pummeled a security man in San Francisco and, along with Richard, who had stood lookout, were charged with assault. Bonzo turned his Chicago hotel room into so much firewood. After a concert in Houston, fans rampaged, causing half a million dollars in damages. Forty were arrested. When Zeppelin got to New Orleans, Robert got a call from Maureen, who told him that Karac, his five-year-old son, had just died of a respiratory virus. Bonzo flew back to England with Robert on a private jet and was the only other Zeppelin member to attend Karac’s funeral.
States started on April Fool’s Day 1977—a month late due to Robert’s tonsillitis. Peter’s wife had left him. Jimmy was weak and listless. He, Richard, and half the road crew were strung out on smack. Bonzo, Peter, and one of the roadies pummeled a security man in San Francisco and, along with Richard, who had stood lookout, were charged with assault. Bonzo turned his Chicago hotel room into so much firewood. After a concert in Houston, fans rampaged, causing half a million dollars in damages. Forty were arrested. When Zeppelin got to New Orleans, Robert got a call from Maureen, who told him that Karac, his five-year-old son, had just died of a respiratory virus. Bonzo flew back to England with Robert on a private jet and was the only other Zeppelin member to attend Karac’s funeral.
Right from the beginning of the tour, Richard felt something was amiss. “It should never have happened. The whole thing just
went
then. That was it. It was never the same again.
Never
. The whole thing just erupted. It was like somebody said, ‘Here, you fuckers, have
this!’
”
went
then. That was it. It was never the same again.
Never
. The whole thing just erupted. It was like somebody said, ‘Here, you fuckers, have
this!’
”
Two months later Bonzo was bombed out and crashed his Jensen on the way home from his local pub, breaking two ribs. Robert continued his mourning, holed up with his wife and daughter. Jimmy got more strung out on heroin. The band rarely spoke to each other.
“The last tour was fatal for everyone concerned,” Linda tells me. “I left halfway through the tour because John and I got into this huge fight. We were all loaded, he was chasing me all over the hotel, he got me in the bedroom and pinned me down on the floor. I looked at him and said, ‘I think it’s time to go home. I’m leaving.’ When I left, for Bonzo it got worse. The San Francisco disaster, Karac’s death, and then it ended. John was left at home and it was the beginning of the end. He had only ever been at home for three or four months at a time. His wife got to see the insanity. His drug abuse had gotten really bad. You don’t just go home and lose your drug habit.”
It took Robert a long, long time to recover from his grief, and it was Bonzo who convinced him to come to a rehearsal, ten months after Karac’s death. Several months later, in December 1978, the band went to Stockholm to record their next album,
In Through the Out Door.
The reviews were shockingly bad, but the album sold in the millions. They played their first show in two years in Copenhagen, followed by two concerts in England. At a rehearsal for these shows, Bonzo put his eleven-year-old son, Jason, behind his kit and the kid was so good, everyone was dumbfounded, especially his beaming father. Said Bonzo, “It was the first time I ever
saw
Led Zeppelin!”
In Through the Out Door.
The reviews were shockingly bad, but the album sold in the millions. They played their first show in two years in Copenhagen, followed by two concerts in England. At a rehearsal for these shows, Bonzo put his eleven-year-old son, Jason, behind his kit and the kid was so good, everyone was dumbfounded, especially his beaming father. Said Bonzo, “It was the first time I ever
saw
Led Zeppelin!”
There was another brief tour of Europe, but things were bad. In Nuremberg, Bonzo fell off his drum seat after the third song, and it was chalked up to “exhaustion.” In late summer Zeppelin decided to settle in at Jimmy’s new house (he moved to Windsor after a young man died of a drug overdose at his Sussex house) to begin rehearsals for the upcoming U.S. tour.
On September 24, 1980, Bonzo stopped at a pub and drank four quadruple
vodkas, returned to Jimmy’s house, where he continued his endless imbibing at the band’s reunion bash, then passed out cold on the couch at midnight. A Zeppelin assistant dragged Bonzo to one of Jimmy’s bedrooms so he could sleep it off. When Bonzo hadn’t turned up by the next afternoon, he was discovered by a roadie, cold and blue, having died sometime that morning.
vodkas, returned to Jimmy’s house, where he continued his endless imbibing at the band’s reunion bash, then passed out cold on the couch at midnight. A Zeppelin assistant dragged Bonzo to one of Jimmy’s bedrooms so he could sleep it off. When Bonzo hadn’t turned up by the next afternoon, he was discovered by a roadie, cold and blue, having died sometime that morning.
John Henry Bonham was cremated, then buried a few days later while eight local fans stood watching in the rain. A memorial was held at a church near Bonzo’s precious farm. The coroner ruled the death accidental, caused by “pulmonary edema”—waterlogging of the lungs caused by inhaling vomit. Group members said it was hard to tell how drunk Bonzo had been because he was always drunk. On the last night of his life Bonzo had ingested “forty measures” (forty shots) of vodka.
Bonzo had been telling friends that he had kicked his heroin habit, but Linda feels differently. “He called me from Germany right before he died, asking me to come see him. I just couldn’t. Bonzo absolutely died on heroin. When he died it was
credited
to heroin. He choked on his own vomit from an overdose. That is exactly how he died. You know they called him ‘the Beast,’” she continues sadly. “If he was out of control, nobody wanted anything to do with him—and that was wrong. He died lonely, in that sense. Somebody could have helped him, he could have been okay, they could have woken him up, sent him home … .”
credited
to heroin. He choked on his own vomit from an overdose. That is exactly how he died. You know they called him ‘the Beast,’” she continues sadly. “If he was out of control, nobody wanted anything to do with him—and that was wrong. He died lonely, in that sense. Somebody could have helped him, he could have been okay, they could have woken him up, sent him home … .”
Richard Cole was in jail in Rome, having been wrongly arrested for “terrorism,” when he got the news from his lawyer that one of “his boys” had died. At first he thought it had to be Jimmy “I don’t know what the true story about Bonzo’s death was,” he admits. “No one really knows. I heard all kinds of stories. The smack dealer told me that he sold stuff to one of the roadies that afternoon.” Did he ever see any signs that Jimmy had coerced the band into signing a pact with Satan in return for their massive success? “I didn’t see the black magic. Did you? The stuff about them making a pact with the devil is a load of old bollocks! It would have come out when one of ‘em was drunk, I’m sure—‘Oh, I should never have done that!’ They had their fair share of tragedy, but it was all indulgence.”
When I tell Linda that I think Bonzo had been in over his head, she agrees. “He was in over his head with everything. As his fame and wealth grew, he couldn’t make the transition. He saw his friends more into stability, and he wanted that, but it eluded him. He wasn’t educated enough, yet there was a side to him, the dreamer, who fantasized about it. In the end he took the insanity home with him—he didn’t know how to get out of the madness, he didn’t know how to stop.”
On December 4, 1980, Led Zeppelin finally issued this puzzling statement: “The loss of our dear friend, and the deep sense of harmony felt by ourselves and our manager, have led us to decide that we could not continue as we were.”
KURT COBAIN
A
few months before Kurt Cobain took his life, I had the strange pleasure of meeting him, oh so briefly. I was in Seattle on assignment for
Interview
magazine and my subject was Courtney Love. I was excited and jittery as my friend Victor drove me through the damp darkness while I pondered my questions for this dizzy, dangerous diva. I only knew to expect the unexpected.
few months before Kurt Cobain took his life, I had the strange pleasure of meeting him, oh so briefly. I was in Seattle on assignment for
Interview
magazine and my subject was Courtney Love. I was excited and jittery as my friend Victor drove me through the damp darkness while I pondered my questions for this dizzy, dangerous diva. I only knew to expect the unexpected.
The interview almost didn’t happen. I had just gotten to Seattle and was on the phone when I was interrupted by an emergency call from Courtney, who nervously told me she wouldn’t be able to do the interview the next day because Kurt had a few days off and she was taking him to “this life-enhancement thing.” A journalist’s nightmare for sure. To this day I wonder if they ever got there. A few minutes later she called and asked if I could come over “right now.”
When I arrived I was met at the door by Cali, Frances Bean’s male nanny, who ushered me into the messy living room where Kurt leaned against the wall—hovering, arms crossed in front of him, hunched, wary. His gaze was
piercing, haunted, pointed. I felt like I was being sized up. He nodded to me. I was, as usual, all smiles. “It’s
so
nice to meet you!” All he said was hello. Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low. Then he swooped his baby daughter into his arms and high up in the air, and tumbled with her on the floor, laughing.
piercing, haunted, pointed. I felt like I was being sized up. He nodded to me. I was, as usual, all smiles. “It’s
so
nice to meet you!” All he said was hello. Hello, hello, hello, hello, how low. Then he swooped his baby daughter into his arms and high up in the air, and tumbled with her on the floor, laughing.
The chat with Courtney was amazing. I was there for hours, drinking lots of red wine that Hole’s guitarist, Eric Erlandson, had so graciously provided, getting tipsy, bonding with the outspoken blonde. She spoke often of Kurt, how lucky she was to be his wife, how much she loved him (“On a personal level, just in terms of his fidelity and that kind of stuff, he’s amazing”), how talented he was (“I married one of the best songwriters of my generation”). I felt as if I’d met a kindred spirit grrrl and thought we would never lose contact. But I didn’t see Courtney again until July, and by then everything had changed.
There was a serious drought, a dangerous apathetic lull in the world of rock before Nirvana stumbled out of Seattle. The Pistols were long gone. The airwaves were thick with torpid, droning leather metal, or sickly sweet Vegas showroom crooners, lugging around huge soulless voices. Where was the necessary angst? The prodding, provoking, pinching, and pointing that was rock and roll?
Kurt Cobain never wanted to lead that particular alternative parade. He tried to supply us with the questions, but seemed to know there would never be any answers. He condemned racists, homophobes, and sexists; he splayed his tortured heart because he had no choice. The “spokesperson of a generation” tag that was thrust on the frail, reclusive outcast became the cross he had to bear. Someone else might have been able to handle that heavy crown of thorns, thrive on it even, but Kurt was stunned and confused by his sudden importance—and ultimately crushed by the burden.
The suicide rate in the logging town of Aberdeen, Washington (pop. 17,000), is twice the national average. The town’s incidence of unemployment, domestic violence, and alcohol and drug abuse is high, and the median household income is about $23,000. Once a thriving timberland, Aberdeen has become a ghost town full of boarded-up buildings and dotted with dismal trailer parks—and thriving bars.
Kurt Cobain was born in Hoquiam, Washington, raised in the flats of Aberdeen, and, by all accounts, the first few years of his life with his mother, Wendy, a homemaker, and his father, Donald, who worked at the local Chevron station, were warm and cozy—almost idyllic. There was music on Wendy’s side of the family, and before the age of two, Kurt had his own toy guitar and, at seven, had started a record collection that included the Beatles, the Monkees, and his favorite,
Alice’s Restaurant
by Arlo Guthrie. Perceptive, curious, and enthusiastic, Kurt was also diagnosed as hyperactive and dosed with the drug Ritalin, which kept him up all night and asleep at his school
desk, until an allergy to sugar and red food dye was discovered. Seemingly always in some kind of mischief, Kurt blamed it all on a fictitious character he called “Boda.” Sometimes Wendy even set a place for Boda at the dinner table, but Don wasn’t so good-natured, and Kurt often got a belt-whipping. He excelled in art, and even though a picture he drew graced the cover of the school newspaper, Kurt didn’t think it was good enough. In third grade he started taking drum lessons, sometimes wanting to be a “rock star” when he grew up (“I wanted to be Ringo Starr,” Kurt later said, “but I wanted to be John Lennon playing drums”), sometimes a stuntman like his hero, Evel Knievel.
Alice’s Restaurant
by Arlo Guthrie. Perceptive, curious, and enthusiastic, Kurt was also diagnosed as hyperactive and dosed with the drug Ritalin, which kept him up all night and asleep at his school
desk, until an allergy to sugar and red food dye was discovered. Seemingly always in some kind of mischief, Kurt blamed it all on a fictitious character he called “Boda.” Sometimes Wendy even set a place for Boda at the dinner table, but Don wasn’t so good-natured, and Kurt often got a belt-whipping. He excelled in art, and even though a picture he drew graced the cover of the school newspaper, Kurt didn’t think it was good enough. In third grade he started taking drum lessons, sometimes wanting to be a “rock star” when he grew up (“I wanted to be Ringo Starr,” Kurt later said, “but I wanted to be John Lennon playing drums”), sometimes a stuntman like his hero, Evel Knievel.
Kurt in the air. When he wasn’t onstage, he wanted to sleep. (CHARLES PETERSON)
Kurt’s suburban bliss was shattered at eight years of age when his parents divorced. After work and on weekends, Don spent most of his time away from home, either playing sports or coaching. Bitter and resentful, Wendy even wondered if she had ever loved him. Since Kurt and his dad fought about his lack of interest in sports, he must have blamed himself for the split and the family upheaval that followed. Kurt was left-handed and Don had tried to get him to switch sides, but he couldn’t do it (or
wouldn’t
do it). Years later Kurt said that after the divorce, he “always felt ashamed.” In the mortgaged house where Wendy still lives, Kurt’s scrawl is still visible on his bedroom wall: “I hate Mom, I hate Dad, Dad hates Mom, Mom hates Dad. It simply wants to make you be sad.”
wouldn’t
do it). Years later Kurt said that after the divorce, he “always felt ashamed.” In the mortgaged house where Wendy still lives, Kurt’s scrawl is still visible on his bedroom wall: “I hate Mom, I hate Dad, Dad hates Mom, Mom hates Dad. It simply wants to make you be sad.”
“It just destroyed his life,” said Wendy. “He changed completely. I think he was ashamed. And he became very inward—he just held everything in. He became real shy.” He also became deeply angry and emotionally withdrawn, and his health problems escalated. He had regular bouts of chronic bronchitis and was diagnosed with a severe curvature of the spine, scoliosis.
Kurt lived with Wendy for a little over a year until she settled in with a guy Kurt called “a mean huge wifebeater.” He then moved into his dad’s prefab house until Don married a lady with two kids, after promising Kurt he would never remarry. At every opportunity Kurt lashed out at his stepsiblings, resenting every toy his dad bought for them. When Don talked him into joining the junior-high wrestling team, Kurt made sure that his dad saw him voluntarily lose an important championship. Don took him out hunting, but Kurt refused to shoot anything. His only solace was listening to Queen’s “We Are the Champions” over and over on the eight-track in his dad’s truck. Don had joined the Columbia House record and tape club, and at ten years old, Kurt glommed on to Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Kiss. Even when Don applied for legal custody and it was granted, Kurt wanted out of his dad’s house. Wendy suggested that Kurt move in with his hip uncle Chuck, and he excitedly agreed.
For Kurt’s fourteenth birthday, Uncle Chuck gave him a choice—a bicycle or a guitar. Guess which one he chose? Kurt took guitar lessons and started writing songs. Instead of hanging out with the kids at school, he holed up in his room and practiced for hours on his secondhand Sears guitar.
Creem
magazine became his bible, and the Sex Pistols and the whole punk scene, a fascinating new option. Kurt’s early music was mean and nasty, and he turned his ten-watt amp up loud, annoying the neighbors. He also started smoking pot.
Creem
magazine became his bible, and the Sex Pistols and the whole punk scene, a fascinating new option. Kurt’s early music was mean and nasty, and he turned his ten-watt amp up loud, annoying the neighbors. He also started smoking pot.
When Don insisted that Kurt join the Babe Ruth baseball team, he didn’t
make it up to bat very often. Instead, he sat on the bench with Matt Lukin, talking about music. Matt played in a local band, the Melvins, and Kurt told him that he was going to start his own punk band. In art class Kurt met the Melvins’ leader, Buzz Osborne, and he was so thrilled to know people in a working band that he started humping the Melvins’ equipment when they played gigs in Seattle. “When I first met Kurt Cobain,” Buzz said, “he looked like a teenage runaway” Buzz made tapes for Kurt to listen to: Black Flag, the Buzzcocks, the Circle Jerks. Kurt spiked his hair and started spray-painting rude slogans on cars and buildings.
make it up to bat very often. Instead, he sat on the bench with Matt Lukin, talking about music. Matt played in a local band, the Melvins, and Kurt told him that he was going to start his own punk band. In art class Kurt met the Melvins’ leader, Buzz Osborne, and he was so thrilled to know people in a working band that he started humping the Melvins’ equipment when they played gigs in Seattle. “When I first met Kurt Cobain,” Buzz said, “he looked like a teenage runaway” Buzz made tapes for Kurt to listen to: Black Flag, the Buzzcocks, the Circle Jerks. Kurt spiked his hair and started spray-painting rude slogans on cars and buildings.
After bouncing around living with various relatives, Kurt finally convinced his mother to let him come back home. Wendy was about to dump another husband, longshoreman Pat O’Connor. After catching him cheating on her, Wendy threatened to shoot O’Connor with one of his own guns, then took his entire collection and hurled it into the Wishkah River. Kurt saw the whole thing, paid some kids to fish the guns out, then sold them to buy his first real amplifier. He started hanging out at Melvins rehearsals, where he met fellow guitarist Chris Novoselic and his girlfriend, Shelli. They started spending time together, drinking and listening to music. Kurt eventually dug up the courage to audition for the Melvins, which he screwed up bad. “I was so nervous that I forgot all the songs,” Kurt told Michael Azzerad for his Nirvana bio,
The Story of Nirvana: Come As You Are
. “I literally couldn’t play a note. I just stood there with my guitar and played feedback with a blushed face.” But the Melvins were impressed that Kurt was already writing his own songs.
The Story of Nirvana: Come As You Are
. “I literally couldn’t play a note. I just stood there with my guitar and played feedback with a blushed face.” But the Melvins were impressed that Kurt was already writing his own songs.
Kurt worked on his music instead of schoolwork, and by the eleventh grade, he was smoking a lot of marijuana and skipping classes. One of his best friends was gay and Kurt took a lot of flak from jocks in school who beat the crap out of him and called him a faggot. For a while Kurt seemed to enjoy the notoriety (“I was a
special
geek”), but it proved to be too much trouble and he ended the friendship. The only other person Kurt got close to his last year at Weatherwax High was a girl named Jackie. The night Kurt was about to lose his virginity, Wendy busted into his room in a fit, calling Jackie a slut. After dropping out of school a month before graduation, in June 1985 Kurt went back to his dad’s house and seemingly went straight for a few weeks. He stopped smoking pot, pawned his guitar, and actually took the navy entrance exam, receiving one of the highest scores in the country. The navy recruiter came to the house two nights in a row, but when Kurt was supposed to sign on the dotted line, he went down to the basement, smoked a joint, came back upstairs, and said two words: “No thanks.” Then he packed his things and left his father’s house for the last time.
special
geek”), but it proved to be too much trouble and he ended the friendship. The only other person Kurt got close to his last year at Weatherwax High was a girl named Jackie. The night Kurt was about to lose his virginity, Wendy busted into his room in a fit, calling Jackie a slut. After dropping out of school a month before graduation, in June 1985 Kurt went back to his dad’s house and seemingly went straight for a few weeks. He stopped smoking pot, pawned his guitar, and actually took the navy entrance exam, receiving one of the highest scores in the country. The navy recruiter came to the house two nights in a row, but when Kurt was supposed to sign on the dotted line, he went down to the basement, smoked a joint, came back upstairs, and said two words: “No thanks.” Then he packed his things and left his father’s house for the last time.
After spending a few months crashing with friends, Kurt finally got a place of his own, which he decorated with blood-spattered baby dolls hanging by their necks. “There was beer and puke and blood all over the carpet,” Kurt later said. “Garbage stacked up for months. I never did do the dishes.” He got
a job as a busboy, then as a janitor at Aberdeen High, but never managed to pay his rent and was thrown out. Kurt then spent his days in the library, reading and writing poetry, sleeping in a cardboard box on a friend’s porch, in Chris Novoselic’s van, or under the North Aberdeen Bridge—usually after an evening of spray-painting the neighborhood with slogans like ABORT CHRIST, GOD IS GAY, and NIXON KILLED HENDRIX. He eventually landed with the Shillinger family after befriending one of their six kids and lived there eight months, doing his daily chores like everybody else in the family. Wendy was employing “tough love” techniques and never looked him up.
a job as a busboy, then as a janitor at Aberdeen High, but never managed to pay his rent and was thrown out. Kurt then spent his days in the library, reading and writing poetry, sleeping in a cardboard box on a friend’s porch, in Chris Novoselic’s van, or under the North Aberdeen Bridge—usually after an evening of spray-painting the neighborhood with slogans like ABORT CHRIST, GOD IS GAY, and NIXON KILLED HENDRIX. He eventually landed with the Shillinger family after befriending one of their six kids and lived there eight months, doing his daily chores like everybody else in the family. Wendy was employing “tough love” techniques and never looked him up.
Kurt’s first band was a trio he called Fecal Matter, but after playing a few gigs and recording a four-track demo (“Bambi Slaughter,” “Territorial Pissings”), they split up because Kurt didn’t feel the other two had enough dedication. While he honed his music, Kurt continued to rampage around town with his can of spray paint, finally getting arrested as he was painting the words HOMO SEX RULES, He was taken to the station, where the cops cleaned out his pockets and found a guitar pick, a can of beer, a mood ring, and a tape by a band called A Million Dead Cops. Fined $180, Kurt was given a thirty-day suspended sentence on the charge of vandalism. That summer of 1986 Kurt got briefly hooked on the opiate painkiller Percodan and shot heroin for the first time, knowing there wasn’t enough of the drug in Aberdeen to get him into serious trouble. Kurt was high-strung and agitated, and started cracking his knuckles, scratching his face, and constantly tossing his hair. And he was getting paranoid. He thought everybody knew the savage thoughts going through his head. The opiates gave him relief from the hatred he had brewing down inside. Always looking for a new way to get wasted, Kurt discovered shaving cream propellant, which he inhaled for a buzz, joyously turning his friends on to the experience.
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