- Paperback: 320 pages
- Publisher: Gallery Books; Reprint edition (April 15, 2014)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 9781451694581
- ISBN-13: 978-1451694581
- ASIN: 145169458X
- Product Dimensions: 6 x 0.8 x 9 inches
- Shipping Weight: 12 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
- Average Customer Review: 224 customer reviews
- Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #422,717 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
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Sex, Drugs, Ratt & Roll: My Life in Rock Paperback – April 15, 2014
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About the Author
Stephen Pearcy, founder, lead singer and songwriter of the popular rock band Ratt, led his band to critical praise and multi-platinum success. Formed in Los Angeles in 1982 from the remains of his band Mickey Ratt, Ratt was known for their flamboyant appearance and rebellious attitude. Pearcy currently lives in Los Angeles.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Sex, Drugs, Ratt & Roll
YOU’RE TALKIN’ TO ME
IN 2009, I PACKED myself off to rehab in Pasadena, California, in an attempt to wean myself from that nagging booze/pills/grass/heroin habit I’d picked up over the last several decades. There was an initial period of hell, better known as withdrawal, followed by a long stretch of a much more annoying kind of torture: therapy.
It’s the price of getting clean, I guess. They help you ditch the drugs, make it so your bandmates no longer have to stick mirrors underneath your nostrils to see if you’re still alive when you go into one of your increasingly frequent nods in the recording studio—and then you have to sort of humor them when they say, What else about you can we clean up?
I was assigned a decent, flabby therapist named Dr. Harold Roberts, who had the nerve to imply that I might have a few other addictions to my name, too.
“What I’d like to ask you, Stephen, is, have you ever considered yourself a sex addict?”
I laughed. “How would I even know?”
“A sex addict might, for instance, spend the majority of his waking hours trying to procure sex.”
“I’m a rock singer,” I said. “If you have to try to get laid, then there’s definitely something wrong.”
“Did you ever have a period of your life when you went from partner to partner, without due regard for their personalities?”
“Yes. The 1980s.”
“Okay.” Dr. Roberts laughed. “All right. Humor can be a defense mechanism. How many partners might you have had?” He said it casually, but I could see his interest was growing.
“You know that guy John Paul?” I said. “Lives in Italy?”
“The Pope?” Dr. Roberts asked.
“More than him.”
“Again with the humor,” said Dr. Roberts.
“My stamina in the mid-’80s was unparalleled,” I began. “I was tearing down three chicks a day when we were on the road, under ideal conditions.”
“Three? But I don’t even see how that’s possible.”
“It’s possible when you’re organized. It’s possible when you have a team.”
They were well-trained and faithful soldiers—Phil, Joe, and Road Dog—each one ready to scout the hottest trim around and slap passes in those girls’ hands. They’d continue throughout our show, scanning the audience, knowing my type perfectly. After the encore, there would be twenty-five giggling blondes lined up, all incredible tits, flat stomachs, and golden asses. I just had to pick.
“But of course you’re exaggerating,” Dr. Roberts said.
“Now,” I continued, “if you want to throw down on tour, you have to learn how to do it right. You space out the trim—one before the show in your dressing room, one midshow, during the drum solo, and then obviously, one at the hotel that night.”
A momentary silence filled the room.
“Or on the bus.”
The doctor was writing something down in his notebook.
“But you must stay organized. For instance, always make sure to take a Polaroid of each of your girls. Write her phone number on the back with a Sharpie. Then hand that off to your security guy to stick in his Rolodex, so that you have it for next time you come through Jacksonville or Corpus Christi.”
“Mr. Pearcy, this is compulsive behavior, don’t you agree?”
“No, it’s smart behavior. I grew up with this, man. I was at Van Halen shows for a long time before my band broke, and I knew the best bands had their systems down. I always told my guys when we got big, we’d do it right.”
The doctor and I stared at each other for a while. It was nice and quiet in that office. You pay through the nose if you go to rehab, at least if you go to some of the posher places. The one I went to, embarrassingly, is the place where Dr. Drew filmed his celebrity rehab show. I liked the cleanliness and general high production value of the whole place, though.
“Back in the day, I used my itineraries to keep track of every single chick I ever met or put myself into. I kept them my whole adult life. Had stacks and stacks and stacks of them. They got burned by my super-pissed girlfriends. I’d just write the girl’s name, her phone number, the city I met her in, and a rating. You know, seven, eight, maybe a nine. Once in a while, a true ten. And if we had sex, I’d mark it with three x’s. And if we did something else, I’d write that. Then I’d try to add some sort of signature description, like ‘see again.’ Or ‘fly out.’ Or ‘kinda funky.’ ”
“Do you have anything else that you want to tell me, Stephen?” Dr. Roberts said. “Anything that you’d like to get off your chest?”
Where do I start?
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If you want to know about the albums, the songs, the band ... keep waiting for another book. Sadly.
Pearcy comes off as shallow, lust filled, and at the end of this therapeutic romp is still as immature as ever. It's ashame that he took the opportunity to write a book and essentially wasted it.
It was one hell of a ride, and those book brought me right back.
First, I am actually very surprised at how well it's written. It tells Stephen's story starting from an early age, and it flows well. However, it inserts some alternate reading points throughout, and others' viewpoints, and these keep it fresh as you read. Obviously, most readers will be RATT fans, and there is RATT data here, and Mickey Ratt stories. Many will also want to read about 'King' and there are numerous references to Robbin.
I actually found the stories raunchy, yet not stomach turning. I mean I knew what went on 'during the day' and only one reference made me feel like something was totally uncalled for (girl left outside Bobby's hotel room). Actually, Stephen took the middle road a few times, I can't say the high road, but he didn't dive into the sin more than waist deep a few times.
I was very interested to see what SEP said about the other members of RATT, and I found him to be complimentary about them and especially their musical talent. He was obviously open about the feuds, and every fan knows he and Bobby had/have some personal stuff between them. However, there is no slanderous insults by any means.
I actually started this book yesterday afternoon, and finished around midnight. I completely surprised myself by wanting to read it straight through. I knew there would be Gladiator stories (RATT and Motley gang), but there were a lot of other 'celeb' stories in there also.
The funniest parts are SEP's stories with his rehab doctor/therapist. BTW, what I've seen lately from RATT live, tells me the band and SEP are vibrant and refreshed. I'm just as impressed with this book and think SEP has got things going in the right direction. Looking forward to new music and new stories!
The tales of backstage and tour bus antics were amusing, for the most part. I would have given this book a solid 3 stars...if not for:
There is a scene in which Pearcy describes how he and a member of his crew found a girl unconscious outside Bobby Blotzer's hotel room and they proceeded to pull her pants and underwear down and then basically sexually penetrate her while she was out of it. That is so vile and repulsive and basically rape. I can't believe he would even include that in the book, as if it was funny. I was horrified to read that, and it takes a lot to shock me as far as rock autobiographies go. So yeah, that definitely took it down to two stars for me.