For me, The Dirt is the type of book that all “tales of the rock lifestyle” should aspire to. Drugs, car crashes, bean burritos, drugs, Mick Mars being replaced with an animatronic replica, the occasional playing of music, more drugs: The Dirt has everything I could ask for between two covers, and since its release, I’ve been willing to fight anyone who dared to presume any autobiography could even come close to that sort of perfection. However, England’s Observer Music Monthly ran an excerpt from a forthcoming release that might knock Motley Crue off my bookshelf and out of my heart.
Ladies and gentlemen–wait, maybe the ladies should leave the room–I present Slash: The Autobiography:
I went through an interesting succession of girlfriends at this time; just a handful that I’d see over at my place, each on different nights. At some point during these months my manager had the brilliant idea of having me present some award to someone or other at the MTV Video Music Awards. I can’t even remember who we gave it to, but my co-presenter was Traci Lords, the porn star, so we met backstage and then started dating immediately…But Traci didn’t want any part of being seen in public with me…From what I understood she wanted to keep a low profile because she didn’t want to be exposed as a groupie slut or one of the porno chicks that guys like me dated. I was never one of those guys who was judgemental about that stuff and never understood those who were; in fact the only reason I knew her was that I’d seen her in this movie where she was bent over holding her ankles and she looked amazing. I truly appreciated that, so I figured everyone else appreciated that, too. I didn’t get her whole charade at all….
I found a house just off Laurel Canyon, and it was forever known as the Walnut House. I was pretty out of control at the time. I remember showing up to meet the contractor to talk about redoing my bathroom and thinking that breaking out a few lines would be a good way to break the ice. He and I stood in the bathroom as he walked me through the work that needed to be done. ‘Yeah, yeah, cool, man,’ I said. I slapped down the toilet-seat cover and cut out four thick lines of coke. ‘You want one?’
He looked pretty uneasy. ‘No, no thanks. I’m on the job,’ he said. ‘OK, right, that’s cool,’ I said. ‘I’ll do yours, then.’ ‘It’s not just that, it’s also eight o’clock in the morning,’ he said, smiling apologetically….
I remember that Izzy had taken a cymbal and a broomstick and some strings and had made a sitar out of it. Needless to say, Izzy was pretty fucking high….
We would be hanging out and sharing a bit of blow, but I couldn’t figure out how Steve was always that much more wasted. He’d just get this twinkle in his eye and say, ‘Hey man, butter tray,’ and point at the fridge.
‘Yeah, OK, Steve. Sure,’ I’d say. I’d go to the refrigerator, fix myself a drink, and come back with nothing to report. I didn’t think he actually wanted me to look in the butter tray. He was that fucked up that I didn’t take it seriously.
‘Did you see?’ he’d ask, grinning wildly. He’d just keep pointing at the refrigerator and saying, ‘Butter tray.’
‘Yeah, man, I saw it,’ I’d say. ‘That’s a great refrigerator you’ve got there. Really nice butter tray, man.’
‘So, Steven, what are you trying to say?’
Tom Mayhew discovered it eventually. Steven had a steep supply of coke piled up in that butter tray of his…
Around then I stopped talking to everyone I knew and started doing a great deal of drawing.
Throughout my life, my drawings have always reflected what I was into at the time. During this period, I drew nothing but dinosaurs and assorted graphic designs and logos….
I can only hope that the book includes some of the dinosaur drawings, but from the thankfully extended and apparently uncensored excerpt, Slash and co-writer Anthony Bozza might have the Crue beat. One note, the first edition of Slash’s new book comes with a complimentary trip to rehab, so be sure to get that pre-order in.