Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon (44 page)

BOOK: Rock Bottom: Dark Moments In Music Babylon
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The Pistols had more gigs canceled than they played, and by January 1977 the entire tour was off. The Heartbreakers decided to stay, quickly becoming regulars at the Roxy club and the darlings of the speed-freak leather-and-chain set. One reviewer called Johnny “a junk-sick transvestite Eddie Cochran.” It’s true that Johnny was deep into his addiction by this time, and despite the arrival of his wife and kids from New York, he continued to proudly wage war with the needle. Johnny had broken the “no girlfriends or wives on the road” rule, and Jerry refused to live with Johnny’s wife, Julie, and the kids, leaving Walter and Billy to trip over toys. Said Leee, “They all fought constantly … threw things around and broke things … . Walter and Billy weren’t allowed to have girlfriends in because it would make Julie crazy to have groupies around … .” Leee finally conned the Heartbreakers a deal with Kit Lambert’s new label, Track Records, and the Heartbreakers’
L.A.M.F.
(Like a Mother Fucker) album—including Johnny’s junkie lament centerpiece and first single, “Chinese Rocks”—was recorded all over England. The single reached number one on the alternative chart and at one point outsold the Pistols’ “God Save the Queen.” The European tour, though fraught with the usual madness, garnered rave reviews.
When Tom Petty dared to call his new band the Heartbreakers, Johnny had this to say: “I think we should change our name to the Junkies.” Jerry Nolan
claims that he turned the Pistols on to heroin: “One time I shot Sid up backwards, pointing the needle down the vein rather than up, and he didn’t know you could do that. Scared the shit out of him, but he didn’t want to say nothing. That was the whole trip about the Pistols. Everything was a fuckin’ act … . They were kids. We were a lot older. When it came down to the real nitty-gritty shit, throwing works on the table and cooking up some junk, they got scared.”
The Heartbreakers were deported due to trouble with their visas, and when the problem was finally worked out, Jerry went back to London ahead of the others to remix the
L.A.M.F.
album. When Johnny arrived at Heathrow Airport with
two
passports, Leee had to cry real tears to convince the immigration people not to throw his bad boy in jail. Gigs were well received, reviews were mixed.
Sounds,
October: “The Heartbreakers are great, hot and anybody’s. All you need is a pair of ears and an open mind.”
Sounds,
December: “Why is Johnny Thunders the most arrogant slob ever to stumble across a stage? Sure, we love the New York Dolls, but …” Jerry had already threatened to quit the band several times, and had actually been replaced twice, but he knew it was over when Johnny told
Melody Maker
that Jerry “started screwing up all the mixes.” Jerry retaliated in
Record Mirror:
“There’s one guy in this band I don’t like. I’ve discovered he’s a coward, and I can’t work with cowards. He’s done things behind my back … . He gave in to allow the album to be released. He’s only interested about reading about himself in the papers … . The whole thing’s a joke and I want out.” Years later Jerry had this to say: “Johnny and I still got together for the odd gig, but he could still be such a pain … . He’d get cocky and try to push people around, but if he could push you around, he’d hate you. If you pushed him back, he’d love you for it. If you could smack him down, he’d be your best friend. He needed me for that. He was a little bit of a masochist.”
At twenty-four, Johnny had two kids to feed. He formed a short-lived band called the Living Dead, playing a few nights at the Speakeasy before landing a solo deal on Dave Hill’s (the Pretenders’ manager) Real Records. The single “Dead or Alive” was released in May 1978 and died a quick death. Johnny briefly played with the Pistols’ Steve Jones and Paul Cook, calling the venture “Johnny Thunders’ Rebels,” while he continued recording his solo album,
So Alone,
backed by Jones and Cook as well as a long list of other punk “knowns.” Released in October to grudgingly good reviews, it reached number seven on the alternative charts. Johnny was feeling optimistic and told
Sounds
that his dream was about to come true. “I’ve got someone to finance me to go to New Orleans and I’m gonna try and find a bunch of old black musicians and start a band with them.” But it would be over a decade before Johnny made it to Louisiana.
His big heroin habit putting all big dreams on hold, Johnny put the Heartbreakers
back together more than once and played some solo gigs, dubbed the “So Alone Revue.” Once the rock press’s darling, Johnny was now crucified in print whenever he staggered onto a stage. February 1979 found the Pistols’ Sid Vicious dead from an overdose, which encouraged Johnny to write one of his most poignant odes, “Sad Vacation.” But Sid’s OD didn’t do a thing for Johnny’s deep-down junkie soul. He was starting to resemble a propped-up, blue-hued skeleton with spiky black hair. In July a small label released a live Heartbreakers set recorded at Max’s Kansas City.
Sounds:
“As people these guys are odious creeps … but plugged in they are MAGIC.” Nick Kent at the
N.M.E.
disagreed: “The whole enterprise stinks and there is absolutely no reason for even the most rabid Heartbreakers fan to purchase this piece of shit.”
At a gig in Detroit Johnny came across an old hero, Wayne Kramer from the MC5, and they decided to start a band together, calling it Gang War. Johnny’s family soon followed and for eight months tried to set up housekeeping in Dexter, Michigan. “One time I was comin’ into Detroit Airport,” Johnny told a journalist, “right? … and I had these red leather trousers on, and they make you look real big … they make your balls look real big … and … uh … the cops are lookin’ at me real weird … and we get picked up by a Rolls-Royce and we get about three miles down the highway when
five
cop cars pull us over, and say to me, ‘What’s that stashed down your trousers?’ … and I say … ‘Well, what do you think it is? … and this is goin’ on for twenty minutes, so in the end I hadda wind up whippin’ it out in the middle of the highway.”
Gang War was another short-lived project that lasted one tour, and the Thunders party landed back in Manhattan, where Johnny soon found himself the topic of a nightlife documentary produced by Christopher Giercke (who also became Johnny’s manager). The camera shadowed Johnny into seedy, danger-driven areas on his constant search for a fix, which had become his reason for waking up every day. The Trouser Press Rock Predictions for 1981 insisted that Johnny Thunders was “legally dead” (though still playing in a band) next to a cartoon of the guitarist surrounded by drug paraphernalia, holding a syringe, with several more hanging out of his arm. Audiences didn’t expect Johnny to show up at all, and when he did, they hoped for the worst and usually got it. If he forgot all the words or didn’t bother to plug in, they cheered. For a while Patti Palladin performed with Johnny People always asked her if he had died. She said, “He’s got a lot to live up to, y’know, he always will. The Dolls were so fucking brilliant, it must create a constant pressure—plus the obsession with his death plays such a major role in his career now, it seems his success is gauged by it. I suppose the value of his catalog would soar.” Fed up with the junk life, Julie took the kids and disappeared, and Johnny never saw his wife or sons again. It tore him apart. Little Dino was only three months old.
Johnny Thunders—a defiant mask of decadence. (MARCIA RESNICK)
When Johnny took yet another new band to Sweden, rampant headlines followed him all over the country. The mania started when he arrived (very late) for a television show so blasted he literally couldn’t stand up. The show didn’t air but the newspapers had a ball: BURNT OUT, WASTED—A DRUGGED HUMAN WRECK—“He looks terribly wasted as he walks over to his guitar. He sat shivering in a black dressing gown. No photos are allowed. When we are about to leave, he mentions tonight’s show in Sundsville. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t do it,’ says Johnny.” And no wonder. The show in question was for an “anti-heroin cause.” Within minutes after taking the stage, Johnny hurtled headlong into the audience and was promptly arrested. During another TV appearance, Johnny was surprisingly forthcoming when asked why he started taking drugs: “Like a lot of kids start because they’re bored and lonely, y‘know? It makes them feel like they’re alive, I guess. I would
never
turn anyone on to drugs. It’s a hard thing to handle and once you get into it, it’s
really
hard to get out of.” At the end of the interview he asked people to “have a heart, y’know I’m still a human being.” Somehow he made it to London, where he stayed with a friend, Tony James. “He stayed here for two weeks, but it seemed like three years. Things kind of fall apart all around Johnny … . It was like the chaos in that scene from
E. T,
when he’s pissed. It’s just extraterrestrial Thunders.” One night Johnny was joined by ex-Doll Sylvain Sylvain, who told the
N.M.E.
that there was “a certain charisma about a guy that everybody thinks is about to drop dead.” As usual, Johnny was stopped at Heathrow Airport on his way back home and was arrested when they found his works and heroin supply. He spent a few days in prison and was fined fifty pounds.
A flurry of Thunders’s material was released early in 1982—old demos, bootlegs, and a cool single on the New Rose label, “In Cold Blood.” After another tour of Europe with his band, Cosa Nostra, Johnny wound up in Paris, filming another low-budget epic entitled
Personality Crisis
about a guy addicted to heroin. It was never completed. Johnny recorded an acoustic song, “Hurt Me,” for New Rose, which came out in late 1983. And despite all the flagrant bad press in Sweden (or because of it), Johnny made it to number twenty-two on the Swedish charts. He also fell in love with a Swedish girl, Susanne, who started traveling with him. He even cut down his drug intake.
Then, one more time, Johnny re-formed the Heartbreakers and played to a sold-out crowd at London’s Lyceum after drinking eight double vodkas when his dealer didn’t show up. “Hey,” he yelled to his howling fans, “any of you kids in the audience old enough to get a hard-on yet?” Johnny played ninety-five concerts in 1984, from Russia to Japan, but was still after that elusive big record deal. Chris Geircke remained Johnny’s manager and the two had become close friends. He still had the hope that he might be able to teach Johnny “leadership, standards, and certain rules.” When Johnny’s biographer, Nina Antonio, asked Chris if Johnny was “very ill” when he met him, he responded, “Well … a while back I took Johnny to
corrida
… a bullfight, you know … and it sickened him so much he almost passed out. Every thrust from the matador’s sword was more wounding, more terrible to the animal. It was in great pain, but it would not fall. Does that answer your question?” He hoped Johnny might finally lose the “junk-sick rock star” label. “I mean three years ago, out of twenty-four hours, he would sleep twenty-two … . All that has changed now. His level of methadone is down now to fifteen milligrams … . It’s all up to Johnny … .”
In 1985, during an interview for Nina Antonio’s book, Johnny admitted to her that heroin addiction had wreaked havoc with his life. “I was very young when I started using heroin, young an’ innocent and I thought I knew it all, right? But I didn’t know it all and I wouldn’t have conformed to it even if I did … . I had nobody to warn me off … to tell me I wasn’t right … . I loved taking drugs, right? I thought I was havin’ a real good time, takin’ drugs and playin’ rock and roll … but I wasn’t … . It’s easy to start, right? It’s when you come to stop you find you got problems. Like, I’ve been on all sorts of methadone programs an’ it’s, well, it’s horrible. You find that you get to kinda depend on drugs in certain situations, an’ it’s much harder having to deal with them straight; but really drugs just cocoon you … cut you off from the real world … alienate you from the entire fuckin’ world; but the problems are still around, y’know? After the drugs you always still got the same problems.”
The drugs, the illness, and the problems followed Johnny to Paris and then back to London, where he and his band struggled through some new demos at Tin Pan Alley studios. On hand were Mike Monroe from Hanoi Rocks and the Dead Boys’ Stiv Bators. “Johnny Thunders is very important,” Stiv said. “People should respect that. I mean, I never told him because he’s big-headed enough, but a lot of time when you just seem to be spending your whole life slogging around bars and cheap dives, you need an inspiration … you need a dream or an image, and Johnny gave it … . It was just his general attitude … . Nobody else was like him … . I guess the last time I saw Johnny was in a bar in New York. He was attacking the drummer out of Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers because they’d stolen his name. Johnny Thunders is a rare breed. A very rare breed.”
There was another American jaunt, a successful trip to Japan, then Johnny
wanted to clean up (one more time, again) so he could present himself to Susanne’s parents as the model man. But on the long trip to Stockholm, Johnny ingested too many Valiums and the meeting at the airport was a predictable mess. After only one night with the Sundqvists, Susanne angrily bid him adieu. Soon Johnny was ruining friends’ apartments all over New York, Paris, and London before hooking up with a fellow he called “Chief” who became his newest manager. The gigs started up again, and another solo album,
Que Sera Sera,
was recorded before Johnny flew to Stockholm to attempt a reconciliation with Susanne. While he was there, his hand got fractured in a car door, and the American tour had to be postponed.

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