One For The Sun - Yngwie Steals The Show - 1984 - (Part Four)

"I can't believe you guys!" the production guy yelled. "Give them back, right now!"

He was walking towards us like those speed walker dudes at the mall. One of Ratt's security guys was hulking behind him.

In a testament to how dumb we could be, I remember being surprised. 

Uhh, what did we think was gonna happen?

We said our farewells to Yngwie and started walking towards them. Some chicks had come over to talk to him by then anyway, so he lost interest in us quick, but at least we got to hang with him for a little while. I was bummed, now it looked like we were gonna miss the show.

"I can't believe you guys!" Little Junior said, and he sure was pissed off for a little guy. (Little Junior was a nickname Jamie came up with for dweebs. We used it quite often.) 

It was starting to get hot, sweat was beading on his little red face, and you could see the veins popping. The Hulk guy looked at us and was shaking his head.

"Hand them over. What did you say to her?" Junior asked, irritated. "These guys say they've never seen you before!" he said, obviously feeling like a dumb ass.

***(For those of you reading along going, "What the fuck is he talking about?" I made a small edit on part three, just for historical accuracy and context. Fish reminded me that we saw Bobby Blotzer, Ratt's drummer, at a club the night before, and he said he would put us on the list if we helped him find some blow, which we didn't. But, we used that excuse at the guard gate with Little Junior, then he sent us to a lady at the next checkpoint who thought we were Ratt and gave us all their passes. Now you are caught up.)

Fish handed him the package, "Sorry dude, we didn't say shit, Blotzer was supposed to put us on the list, she just gave them to us. We were gonna give them back."

"Really? Why do I not believe you?" Junior said, being a little bitch.

He grabbed the pack and looked through it. He was frazzled now, I'm sure he was catching shit from Ratt's road manager and his boss, whoever that was. The Ratt security guy looked at the passes we had on our jackets, and said, "Give 'em up, dudes." He didn't seem too pissed, though. We ripped them off and handed them over. We were bummed, be we got it.

"Stay right here!" Junior said and stormed off. The hulk guy headed back to the bus.

Junior went over to one of the local security guys and said something. The big dude looked at us, started laughing, then tried to keep a straight face while Little Junior was probably telling him to escort us out.

After that, LJ headed back over to the Ratt guys, turning to scowl at us, one more time.

The local security dude smiled and motioned us over with his finger.

"You guys have some balls! Hahahahaha! Goddamn, that's good shit. Listen," he said, looking over at Junior, "don't worry about him, just go on out there. Once he's gone, I'll see if I can slide you guys back in. How's that sound?" Then he made the motion of toking a joint, and a thumbs up with a wink.

"Fucking awesome, that's how it sounds!" I said. We thanked dude and headed out into the gathering crowd, the show was going to start soon.

I was pleased with the arrangement, the backstage was lame, except for Yngwie. There was no beer yet, it was still early. I had a few bucks, I would buy one if I had to, I was there to see our boy, so it was all good. We dodged a major bullet.

There were a bunch of our friends there, so we joined them for a while.

Okay, look, I know the first Alcatrazz album pretty much sucks ass, except for the guitar solos. You can tell, in retrospect, that the whole project was just thrown together to capitalize on the buzz around Malmsteen at the time. Somebody knew they would sell records, just because he was involved. Malmsteen knew what was going on too, Alcatrazz was a stepping stone to his solo career, which was coming quickly. The only guys who didn't get the memo were the rest of the band.

The band was formed with Graham Bonnet, the vocalist, fresh out of Rainbow, and the rhythm section and keyboard player from New England, you know, Don't Ever Wanna Lose Ya.

Don't remember that one? 

A lot of us guitar nerds know Malmsteen's reputation for being difficult to work within a band context, the interviews and quotes are out there. At the time, though, it was a funny realization that shit went down in big bands, just like they did in garage bands and semi-pro bands. Sooner or later, there was always going to be some butthurt. I've been on both ends of that equation, giving, and receiving.

I couldn't wait to see what the show was going to be like, after witnessing the altercation on the bus.

I wish I could tell you who the opening acts were before Alcatrazz, I think there were one or two of them, maybe one was an acoustic act? I don't remember.

We ran into two girls that we had dealings with a few weeks before. I was positive that one of them had stolen my whole week's pay out of my jeans at the apartment one night, and she was on my shit list. I guilted her friend into buying me beers for the rest of the day because they wanted to hang out. I figured they were into me for about $100 bucks.

"But y'all need to stay back when we go upfront for Yngwie, you can't be up there," I warned them.

They were okay with that. This was 100% dude territory, anyway. They could go up front for Ratt, we wouldn't invade their space on that for sure, so the shit worked out.

Alcatrazz was set up to take the stage early. I think it was mid-afternoon. A gang of us local metalheads gathered at the front of the stage, as their techs were finishing the setup. Yngwie had four Marshall double stacks that dominated stage left. It was too funny because all the bass and keyboard gear was all pushed together at stage right in a little group, even the drums were off-center to stage right.

I was like, 'This motherfucker has the whole stage!'

The sun was beating down now. It was hot as fuck. I was sweating my ass off in my leather, but that was the price you paid for Metal. No pussy shorts and tank tops for the kid. Luckily, the little area where we gathered in front of stage left, was shaded by the the the floating beast. There was also a slight breeze blowing in off the lake. There were boats tied off everywhere about fifty yards back, with chicks out there in bikinis screaming and laughing. We had our beers in hand and were ready to rock.

The mystery of the band coming on stage is kind of blown here, you have to enter in broad daylight, coming across a ramp from the shore to upstage right, so we could see them coming from the bus.

Yngwie already had his yellow Strat on, wearing sunglasses now, leading the way as they came across the ramp. He was pumped and ready to go, but the other guys looked like those kids that have to sit on the bench at the little league game, and only get to play one inning. They were not feeling it. I'm pretty sure Malmsteen had a wireless because he started blasting rapid-fire arpeggios and doing a bunch of crazy wang bar shit before they were even across. The crowd roared!

His guitar was so goddamned loud coming off stage, my ears are still ringing.

Some dude tried to do an introduction, but Yngwie came running out and started throwing down, already throwing his guitar up in the air, catching it, wiping his hands up and down the neck, going down on one knee, it was awesome!

The announcer guy looked scared and got the hell outta there fast.

The other cool thing about the floating stage is when you are upfront, you are at the same level as the stage, maybe five feet back, so our boy was like, right there, in our face, up close and personal, Metal as hell.

Right then, I knew we were gonna get exactly what we didn't pay to see... Haha...

The Yngwie Malmsteen show.

They broke into the first song, and I could already see why the other guys hated him so much.

The bass player and keyboard player were like two feet apart, and I don't think they moved the whole show. There must have been some unspoken rule that they better stay the fuck out of the way. They just scowled at everything the entire time, especially Yngwie. They even gave us the evil eye a few times because we were all over on Yngwie's side, egging him on, yelling, screaming, throwing the horns, and celebrating the ungodly guitar wizardry that was taking place in front of us. Nobody gave a shit about those dudes. They had probably been dealing with this from day one, and now that the band was gonna be history soon, they were definitely not having fun.

And, Malmsteen didn't make it any better for them. 

It was hilarious! When the verses and choruses were going down, he was throwing his guitar in the air, running all over the place, copping every Blackmore and Van Halen flash stage move there was, and adding some of his own. I don't think he ever played a whole rhythm passage all the way through. 

There was a lot of BEEERRRP - BAMMMP - SCREEEEECH - PING - BAP going on while Yngwie did the equivalent of a karate match with his guitar, while the verses were "playing."

Graham Bonnet did the best he could to sing over the melee, but he was obviously struggling. 

Nobody cared! Yngwie not only stole the show, he was the show!

Now, some of you may say, "What a dick move, he should've played his parts and served the songs and the vocals."

Did you read my review of the album up there?

Nobody wanted to hear that shit. There were no hit songs on that record. How boring would that have been to watch?

No, this was the shit, man!

And when it came time for the solos?

Yngwie would walk up to us, and absolutely throw down note-perfect, burning leads for hell. 

He did keep his guitar on for those.

We went crazy for it!

So while I'm putting it out there, Graham Bonnet is not Metal. Sorry, some of y'all may love him, but he ain't Metal. (Yes, I know he played with Shenker... still... Not. Metal.)

I hated Rainbow with him. I was pissed at Ritchie for going that direction after 'Long Live Rock-N-Roll.' I know they had a hit with 'Since You've Been Gone,' but Richard Marx had hits, too.

They totally fucked up my precious Rainbow. I couldn't stand them after that.

How do you go from 'Kill The King' to 'All Night Long,' goddamnit? How?

I do not, however, put the blame on Bonnet, that was all Ritchie, temperamental bastard. I loved Ronnie James Dio so much, I just couldn't take it. Graham is a fantastic singer and a super sweet guy from what I can tell, he just ain't Metal.

I never forgave Ritchie for that. It's probably his fault my addiction got so bad after that.

I saw Eddie Van Halen do Eruption on the first tour in 1978. It was an inspiring, mind-blowing experience. I'll write about that someday, holy shit.

Seeing Malmsteen so up close and in my face at this show, had similar effects. Just like EVH inspired me to work harder on my guitar playing after I saw him, Malmsteen did the same thing.

I used to practice two or three hours a day. After this, it went up to five or six hours some days, just digging in.

His solos that day were mind-blowing. He literally could not play a wrong note. I learned a lot, just watching.

It was a fucking kick-ass show.

I'm pretty sure those guys were still giving him shit when they were getting back on their bus. They had to leave and drive to another gig. I bet that was a fun bus.

Yngwie definitely left it all on the stage. I saw him a few times after that, but the One For The Sun performance was by far the best. He totally kicked our asses.

The day rocked on, and we proceeded to get loose. There was no acid or anything, (Jesus, please, no,) just some beer and weed, and a relaxed rock-n-roll party vibe with a bunch of our buds. There were some bands after Alcatrazz that didn't grab our interest, so we cruised around did some Simmonz promotion. We had shows coming up.

Our good buddy, Allen Woody, was the bass player with the Peter Criss Alliance band that was playing that day. I had no idea that they had already started playing, but somebody yelled, "Hey! That's Peter Criss!" 

We wandered up closer to the stage to get a look and saw Allen up there. 

I said, "Hey! That's Allen Woody!"

Dude, Woody was a fucking badass, he belongs in the bass players hall of fame, but why he was in this train wreck was beyond me. I'm sure he was being paid well. Peter was absolutely lit, and he sat on a stool and sang. The songs were this weird conglomeration of styles, as was everyone in the band... Definitely...Not...Metal.

We bailed.

I mean, I loved KISS as a kid, but it bummed me out seeing Peter like this.

After the show we saw Allen coming out of the backstage area, he goes, "Dudes! What's up, Mikey?" He was happy to see us, making the signal, (you know, the toking a joint sign,) "Here, come on back!"

He walked us back in the roped-off area, "They're with me," he said to a different security guy, and we went back over to our table.

"This is the weirdest fucking band I've ever been in, Mikey," he said, in an exhale of smoke, as he hit a joint, sitting at the table.

"Don't get me wrong, Peter is great, but I'm not sure what he's going for, ya know?"

He handed me the joint back, with a cough, smoke wafting in his ZZ Top looking beard, one eye closed. 

"Y'all want to meet him?"

"Fuck yeah!" we said in unison.

Peter had been over by his bus, surrounded by girls and hangers-on, Allen went around and got him, and brought him to us. The sun was going down on the lake, we were all fairly lit, and here is one of our childhood heroes, in the flesh. He looked way different without makeup.

Paulie immediately starts telling Peter how much he meant to him as a kid and all that good shit, and Peter was totally digging it. They totally hit it off. He held court with us there for a little while, feeling no pain, talking in his strong Brooklyn accent, and every time he would talk about anything with KISS, it was "Those fokin' guys," sounding like Joe Pesci or somebody.

In the end, Peter bids us farewell, takes his laminate off, and puts it over Paulie's neck. It was like a fucking 'Metal of Honor' moment. I remembered back to all of those living room shows we did as kids, painted up like KISS.

Peter was super cool to us.

Allen said, "Hey man, we're outta here," and he handed me his laminate.

"Fuck yeah, dude! You are the man!"

Fish had scored a pass off some chick he had been dealing with, so us boys were lookin' good.

We were back in. Sweet. Fuck you, Little Junior.

Warren DiMartini, the lead guitarist for Ratt, came wandering by, and we struck up a conversation. I was asking him about Jake E Lee and George Lynch. Jake was in Ratt before him, so I was wondering what had happened. Warren was super cool, but he wouldn't say anything about Jake. Warren and George were good friends, though, and he told me George was always bumming this Marshall amp off him that sounded killer and would try to keep it. It was the amp he recorded Out Of The Cellar with. He said Lynch used it on the new Dokken record that was about to come out.

DiMartini is a badass. That boy can rip. He was super cool and humble, too, so was Robin Crosby. Robin was cracking the fuck up about us getting their passes.

"Total rock and roll move," he said, "Well done, fellas."

That dude knew how to party, too.

I never saw DiMartini take a drink or anything. I got the feeling he was the leader of the band, but I could be wrong. Ratt had been around for a long time. It's my understanding that Warren had all of the sweet riffs, though, especially Round and Round, so that gave him clout. He was a nice guy, but very serious.

We didn't see Steven Pearcy or Bobby Blotzer much, they stayed on the bus, which probably meant, booger sugar city. The revolving door of chicks going in and out was a sign of the cocaine train. We weren't much into coke then, it was too expensive and wore off too fast. Pearcy came out to talk to some guy at one point, and he had a huge cold sore all over the side of his face. Maybe that's why he was laying low.

We saw Little Junior a few more times, I think he left us alone because he was embarrassed, and we had fallen under the protection of people we knew who were working there, and guys in the bands. It was our turf, anyway.

As the sunset and the lights came on, Kick Axe took the stage. 

They had a drummer that had his bass drum raised up, on its side, so you could see his pedal underneath it, hitting up, on the drum.

That's literally all I remember about them.

I wasn't a huge fan of Ratt until I saw them play that night.

Those fuckers threw down!

They definitely had the crowd from the start. The chicks loved them.

They were a fucking well-oiled machine with great songs, killer vocal harmonies, and excellent, dual Metal guitar pyrotechnics.

I was well oiled by that time, too.

I leaned over in Paulie's ear, "They are pretty badass, man!"

"They'll be ah eat," he said. 

Paulie liked a little more, throwing down on the drums. I understood.

But, Ratt was definitely Metal, no doubt.

I walked across the ramp a few times and came up behind the backline with my newly minted, all-access laminate.

The floating stage was pretty small for a major production, it seems like they could have easily made it bigger if they wanted. There was shit crammed everywhere.

It was cool seeing everything from back there, though, with the lights shining out on the huge crowd going crazy, seeing a band behind the scenes that was obviously about to break, big time.

I wanted to be doing that shit so bad.

After seeing the US Festival the year before, then bailing on LA to come back home to get with Easlo, and finally having the singer we had always wanted, I could just taste it. It was within our grasp.

I fucking loved this shit, I lived for it, it's all I wanted to do.

As we rolled out of there in the early morning hours, I was full of hope for the future. I knew we could stand toe to toe with any band we saw that day, and smoke the asses of most of them.

And yes, you do want to smoke ass when you play in a Metal band.

I know, in lots of music, holding back, subtlety, lots of dynamics, all that shit, is very cool...I get it. That's not what we are talking about here, check the title.

But, with Metal, any good Metal, you are just fucking going for it. You are balls to the wall, going for it all the time. (Unless it's an intro like Don't Talk To Strangers by Dio, or a bass breakdown like Steve Harris does in Rime Of The Ancient Mariner. Otherwise, you know what the fuck I mean.)

That was one of the reasons I loved Malmsteen so much when he first arrived on the scene. Yes, every solo sounded the same, but it was a goddamned awesome solo! You wanted to hear it over and over. He went for the gusto, every time.

Here, we are on a blog, we have the technology, I'll let him speak for himself:

(If the link doesn't show, google Yngwie, "Less is more.")

He has a point, ya know.

Even if you don't like shred guitar, you gotta give it up for Yngwie, man, that's good shit.

Total Metal.

What a fucking day, man.

We were driving across the dam, on the way home, basking in the killa-ness of the day. I looked over at Fish, I could see the stage lit for load out, off in the distance, out his window, and said...

"Bob said it was cool!"

Bwahahahaha!