The Hair Metal Files: Round the Campfire

The sun was finally going down.  It was still hot, but the temperature had cooled off.  Several breezes wafted through the backstage area.  It was a welcome relief from earlier in the day, when the heat and humidity seemed to hang in the air.  I had just finished watching Vince Neil perform and was waiting for him to make an appearance.  While I was waiting, Phil Lewis of L.A. Guns emerged from the inner sanctum with a pimp hat on his head and a girl on his arm.  He approached me.

“Hey mate! What are you up to?”

“Not much, man,” I replied. “I’m waiting for Vince to come out.”

“I haven’t seen him around.  He probably split.  You want something to drink?”

The heat had made me slightly dehydrated, so I took him up on his offer.  He returned from the catering area with a couple bottles of water.

“Sorry mate,” he apologized.  “It’s lukewarm.  Oh well, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

We clinked bottles and drank.  Phil looked wistfully at the Scorpions’ deluxe tour bus, which was parked behind us.

“As much as I miss those things, I’m glad my army days are over,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever I would bring fans on that bus, they would all comment on how nice and big they are, but they aren’t.  Touring on a bus is fun for the first couple of days.  It’s you and your band against the world.  After a couple weeks, you start to annoy each other and dirty socks are everywhere.  It’s disgusting.  I like the way we do it now.  We jet from gig to gig.   I have my own seat and my own room.”

“Where are you guys going after this?” I asked.

“Cleveland,” he said.  “Hey, do you smoke?”

“Once in a while,” I said.

“That’s what I like to hear.  C’mon, we can do it over there.”

We went over to the artists’ lounge and sat around a coffee table.  Phil lit up.

“I don’t do drugs or drink much anymore.  I just really like to smoke. Does that make me a sinner?  What about you?”

“Nah, I just drink occasionally.”

“Cool.  What’s your drink?”

“Amaretto and Coke.  It has to taste good.”

“Yeah.  I just drink red wine and the occasional gin and tonic.  I never liked feeling out of control.”

Phil started telling me about his childhood.  He was born in London and dreamed of becoming a soccer player.  He was good at it, but his life changed the moment he saw Alice Cooper perform “School’s Out” on television.

“I came home with my cleats on my shoulder and I heard that riff.  I had to be a part of that.”

Phil’s first stab at stardom was with Girl, a glam band that also featured Def Leppard’s Phil Collen.

“We couldn’t play, but we looked fantastic,” he said with a laugh. “So pretty.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” I said.  “Phil Collen can play.”

“Yeah, because he actually practiced,” Phil explained. “He was up in his bedroom every night with a book learning how to solo.”

Eventually Phil got sick of trading on his looks.  He moved to the United States and hooked up with L.A. Guns.  Although the band never reached the heights of Mötley Crüe or Poison, they are able to tour all year round.

“I’m not rich, but I’m able to pay my bills playing music.  We aren’t the biggest band in the world, but I know we sound great.  That’s the one thing I’m really proud of.  We sound so tight.”

By now we had been joined by the Scorpions bass tech, who happened to have an acoustic guitar with him.  He handed it to Phil, who started to play Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May.”   The performance was loose and sloppy, but he didn’t miss a note.

“That was awesome,” I told him, impressed.

“Thanks.  It’s a really cool song.”

Phil got up and stretched.

“I never realized that there was a hammock back there,” he said.  “I think I’m going to go lie in it and watch the fireflies.”

“That sounds good man,” I said.  “Thanks for the talk.”

“Anytime, John,” he replied.

We slapped hands and he went to lie in the hammock, with the girl hanging from his arm.