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Ya
know, I almost had a Waysted t-shirt when I was 14. I saw ‘em
(Well, at least I saw specks identified on the loudspeakers as Waysted
- they were pretty fuckin’ far way) in 1983, opening up for Motley
Crue and Ozzy at the Boston Gardens (now the Fleet
Center), and even at that tender teen Sleaze age, I was well aware
that Waysted were the only ones bringing the ROCK to the
rock show. Crue stumbled through their “Shout at the Devil”
set like lazy, druggy cartoons, and a halfway-to-gone fat Ozzy did
his mad housewife routine, and it was all real razzle-dazzle and all, but
it wasn’t rock n’ roll, it was hollowed-out Hollywood shtick. But, you
know, arena rock shows are a brutal, thuggish experience where the Mob
Rules, and the Mob REALLY dug the Crue, so I somehow ended
up with an over-priced “Aleister Fiend” baseball jersey, cuz I’m
pretty sure I woulda gotten torn limb from limb by Sixx-worshipping
Heshers if I dared buck the system and order up a Waysted tee from
their lonely merch stall. I understand if ya think this is a superfluous
intro, but believe me, in 1983, your tee shirt choice was a REALLY BIG
DEAL. I realize now that if HAD scored the Waysted tee –
it was bad ass, had a chick gagged with an iron chain- than I really
woulda been the absolute TITS when I graduated from arena shows to
snakepit local rock dives the following year, and not just some
short-haired dork in a pussy Crue tee.
See, if you listen to “Shout at the Devil” right now, it’s gonna
sound godawful, a ham-fisted pile of mechanical, pop-metal junk.
Waysted’s seminal debut “Vices”, however, still sounds like a
sleazy, over-the-top, kill for thrills, ROCK N’ROLL record. If we
woulda been smart enuff to see the difference back then, we coulda spared
ourselves from stuff like “Girls Girls Girls”, Alice Cooper’s
flash metal come-back, Warrant,
“Smooth Up In Ya”, and all kindsa nonsense, really. But,
collectively, we all went the other way. Silly fuckin’ us. I hardly think
my meager entry is gonna undo any 80’s-fried damage, but I figure if I can
re-direct at least one young, fledgling cock rocker away from disposable
glam-clunkers like “Bastard” and “Red Hot” (I’m gonna give
ya “Knock “em Dead Kid” and “Ten Seconds to Love” cuz I’m in
a good mood) and to the more sublime debauchery of Waysted
soultakers like “Sleazy” and “Night of the Wolf”, then I
will have successfully paid my debt to Pete Way, truly one of the
very last of the rock and roll motherfuckers.
The Waysted story is such a mad tangle of bleary-eyed visionaries,
wretched hangers-on, drug-wrecked animals and high falutin’ arena rock
stars that it gives me a headache just thinking about it. So, in the
interest of brevity and levity, here’s a truncated-but-thorough rundown of
the events that led up to the rather brilliant sleaze metal classic, “Vices”:
Maybe
you remember UFO, or maybe you’re too young to remember UFO,
but yer rock n’ roll reptile hind-brain surely tells you that you’re
SUPPOSED to know who UFO was. Either way, they were a UK hard rock
band- no other way to describe it, really- who were enormously popular
back home, slightly-less enormously popular in Europe, the biggest fuckin’
band like, ever, in Japan, and pretty close to a perpetual ‘cult act’ here
in the US. They did score a bonafide rock radio hit here in 1974, “Doctor,
Doctor” (from Phenomenon, Chrysalis Records) and
another in 1977, “Too Hot to Handle” (from Lights Out,
Chrysalis), and briefly hit an arena-filling stride in the very
early 80’s, but, despite writing the Spinal Tap blueprint way
before anybody even KNEW big, dumb rock n’ roll excess was funny,
pretty much the lasting legacy of UFO for most Yankee audiences is
original bass player (1969-1982) Pete Way’s black n’ white striped
spandex leotards, which would later get co-opted by both Steven Tyler
and Nikki Sixx. The band, not so much. The outfit- well, who could
forget THAT?
There’s one million stories to tell about UFO, but let us not stray
from the subject at hand. In ’82, UFO released the tepid “Mechanix”,
an out-of-touch arena rocker filled with simpering, lighter-baiting
ballads like “Terri” and “Back into My Life”, but it
still managed to do good business here, there, and everywhere. Then
again, Triumph and Uriah Heep were both flyin’ high in ’82
as well, and bands were still wearing tight white satin pants, so don’t
take too much stock in who was selling tickets back then. Certainly,
Pete Way knew the score, cuz he split his band of 13 years right after
their US tour with Ozzy, determined to get a band together that
actually ROCKED.
Umm,
I guess it’s up to the listener to decide if Fastway, the band Pete
formed with Motorhead’s Fast Eddie Clark and some
frizzy-haired, skinny Irishman (Dave King, ex-Mama’s Boys) actually
ROCKED or not- I’m sure you remember their semi-hit “Easy Living”,
from their self-titled ’83 debut on CBS, so you can discuss it
amongst yrselves. It hardly matters anyway, tho, because Chrysalis,
who had Way under lock and key in an ironclad contract, wouldn’t
even let him be in his own fuckin’ band. So, Fastway continued on
without one of their co-founders. S’okay, tho, Pete was busy
anyway. The previous year, he had produced Twisted Sister’s seminal
“Under the Blade” and the Cockney Rejects' first foray into
metal, “Wild Ones”, and shortly after his label rapped him on the
knuckles, Pete joined up with Ozzy again, this time as his
touring bassist. And, after the tour was over, he started a whole new
band, the cleverly- and honestly- named Waysted.
Waysted’s initial line-up- the one that recorded “Vices” –
consisted of Way, guitarist Ronnie Kayfield, drummer Frank Noon
(ex-Def Leppard), keyboard player Paul Raymond (Way
stole him from UFO) and iconic frontman Fin ( AKA Ian
Muir, formerly of late 70’s hard rockers Flying Squad, and
fulltime Scotsman). Pete still had one record left on his Chrysalis
deal, so it wasn’t like he had to shop the new band around at all. The
boys got together, had a few drinks, snorted a few lines, shot a few
whatevers, and, In 1983, “Vices” was released.
The
cover of “Vices” features a chick in shorts and a tanktop, chained
to a dungeon wall. Well, one arm is chained, the other one she’s managed
to wrench free, and she appears to be gettin’ ready to lay a vicious
haymaker on the green-skinned Nosferatu/Uncle Fester guy
staring her down. What does this mean? Well, I don’t think ANYBODY
knows that, man. There IS a Waysted wolf logo on the wall
(significantly, MY logo is a wolf, too. And Waysted
have a song called “Sleazy”. And all the records on my label
have half-dressed women on the covers, too. AND I like to keep
chicks chained up in my basement. Well, ok, so one of those is a lie, but
Waysted remains a seminal Sleazegrinder influence,
nonetheless), which suggests that the band is somehow the cause for
whatever is going on there. At any rate, it’s a little too vague to be
sexist (although it was most certainly accused of such at the time), but
you know how it goes, right? Sexist. Sexy. It’s a fine line.
I should mention the back cover photo, too. Pete and the boys are
all dressed up in frilly shirts and topcoats and eyeliner and white
gloves, and they’ve got silver wolf-tipped canes, and with just about any
other band in the world, this would look wildly absurd, but with these
fuckers, it's perfect. Waysted were the most dangerous kind of
savages- noble ones. Gentlemen with blood in their teeth. Dandies in the
underworld. You couldn’t have come up with a more apt image for this band,
this wolfpack of seasoned, well-paid pros with a wild penchant for sin and
diamond-hard sleazy rock. It’s pretty remarkable, really. Without any of
the usual blood n’ thunder images that denoted
Flash Metal bands at the time, Waysted (or at least
designer John Pasche) managed to put together a record cover that
fairly screams with debauchery and rock n’ roll mayhem. “Vices”
LOOKS like it’s really gonna rock, man. And it does.
Cowbells.
An all-consuming thump of a bass drum. A Stones-fried cock rock
riff. “Love Loaded” is pure swagger rock, and one of the truly
classic album openers of the 80’s. The lyrics, as the title suggests, are
pure sex-talk nonsense (“Love loaded/Exploded/Love me tonight!”), but one
things is abundantly clear right from the start- Fin, with his
bluesy rasp and Ozzy-like werewolf howl, is about a fuckin’ million
times better than yr average flash metal
singer. Cat sounds like he’s been raging arenas his entire life, or
something. And ok, so there’s some Eddie Van-styled fret-flash
going on that kinda derails the Supersleaze of the song, but goddamn is
this isn’t prime raunch n’ roll. Waysted possessed a casual
mastery of their craft, and I tell ya, play this alongside Ratt or
Motley Crue or whoever, and it is abundantly clear that Waysted
were in a whole different league.
“Women in Chains”, which I’m sure even Waysted will tell you
was a weird choice for a single, is driven by a loopy tribal drum-beat,
creepy whispering, and a thick bass riff from Way that could quite
possibly be the inspiration for Spinal Tap’s “Big Bottom”.
It's also got no guitars, haunted house keyboards, insane laughter,
an obscene phone call (“Sucking and sucking and sucking!”) and lines like
“You been bending over/get lost!” I have no explanation for “Women in
Chains”, but I will remind you that Waysted did a LOTTA
fuckin’ drugs, man.
“Sleazy” is a raucous, arena-ready anthem that recalls prime 70’s
glam, only snarled-up with flash metal
chug and pyrotechnic, Steve Stevens-styled guitar fills. Most
importantly, it’s a grand declaration to the life-style we all enjoy so
much today. “I’m sleazy/And that’s the truth!” Fin yelps, and we
can only applaud him, man. I’m sleazy, you’re sleazy, and
Waysted is sleazy. Now that we’ve all admitted it (admitting you have
a problem is step one, after all), we can freak freely out on society’s
margins like the hairy, slavering sex/drugs/booze/volume beasts we are.
When they make the Sleazegrinder movie, I want this one to play
everytime I walk into a room.
“Night of the Wolf”, with it’s acoustic, crooning intro, is the
BIG, SWEEPING EPIC of the album. A minute in, skull cracking
drums and a crunching, Judas Priest riff kicks in, and the song
gallops along like it’s on some bloody mission. It’s a massive, brawling,
powerful song, the kinda thing Iron Maiden would have done if
Maiden were, you know, COOL. For the most part, Waysted
preferred slinkier, less full-throttle numbers, but “Night of the Wolf”
proved they could rock the whole shithouse down to the ground, if they
were so inclined.
Side
two (I love saying that. I cannot wait until we give up this pussy digital
media and get back to rock RECORDS) opens with the classic hard
rocker “Toy With the Passion”, fueled by an AC/DC
boogiecrunch and a soaring, 70’s rock chorus. If this one woulda made the
radio in the summer of ’83, I mighta gotten laid a lot sooner, man.
“Can’t Take That Love Away” is pure glam-pop, a gooey glitter rock
confection that rides on an impossibly catchy chorus. It sounds like
Thin Lizzy, if Thin Lizzy were prone to writing prom dance
songs. “Hot Love” is another hook-heavy glam rocker, and sounds
like something Joan Jett woulda wrote if the London Quireboys
were her backing band. It’s as bubblegum as it is the blues, it’s got
honky tonk piano and a big ‘ol sex drum beating away, and if there ever
was a song that was meant to play while you were steamin’ up the backseat
of your parent’s Cadillac with some lipstick-slathered teen hussy on a
sweaty summer night, “Hot Love” is it, baby.
“All Belongs to You” is the kinda uplifting swagger rock anthem we
used to take for granted back in the 80’s. Maybe we shouldn’t have, cuz
they just don’t make them anymore, and baby, I miss ‘em. “Midnight
sure feels better then daylight” Fin offers in the opening line.
“Feel those wheels turnin’ round/1,000 miles away from home”. It’s an ode
to the road, ya know, and all the mayhem and redemption that it offers,
and it perfectly captures all the promise and excitement of being young,
wild, and free. If you could direct me to ANY band capable of this
kinda song in 2004, then maybe I’ll stop listening to 20 year old albums,
but I don’t think anybody even knows how to write songs like this
anymore. Suffice to say, “All Belongs to You” is simply what rock
n’ roll is all ABOUT.
The album ends with a masterful flash metal
reworking of Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love”,
fulla power and pathos and honest-to-god URGENCY. At this point,
you should be quite convinced that, at least in 1983, Waysted were
the GREATEST ROCK BAND EVER. This may wear off an hour or so later,
but there’s no way you can walk away from this record without feeling like
you just got completely, totally, and utterly ROCKED. I still
listen to it all the time. You should, too. It’s not quite as good as
drugs, but almost. And it’s cheaper, and lasts longer. Hell, I’m still
catching a buzz 21 years later.
As
I mentioned at the top, Waysted toured “Vices” with Ozzy
and Crue, to mostly indifferent US audiences. That did not stop
them from engaging, fully and shamelessly, in the stuff of their album
title, throughout the tour. As such, band members began dropping like
flies, either getting fired by a (ahem) wasted Way, or just
cracking under the pressure and headin’ for the hills. By ’84, Kayfield,
touring guitarist Barry Benadetta, Noon, and Raymond
were all gone. Pete recruited another back-up band of savages, and
they recorded the meaty “Waysted” EP (Music For Nations,
1984) and hit the road with Dio on their legendary “Holy
Diver” tour, which resulted in a spectacularly quick descent into
bottom-of-the-barrel debauchery and drug-fueled mayhem by everyone
involved (In Waysted, I mean. I’m sure Ronnie James was
quite well behaved). By the time it was over, only Way and Fin
were left standing. They boys managed to cobble together another band
fulla ex UFO and Fastway dudes and released the bluesy “The
Good, The Bad, and the Waysted” . In 1985, Fin left the band,
and Way soldiered on with the Tygers of Pan Tang dude (John
Deverill) as the new Waysted vocalist, but they never got past
the demo stage, and Waysted split in ’87.
Way
went back to UFO for awhile, and also released a few Mogg/Way
albums with UFO frontman Phil Mogg (natch). Most recently,
he reunited with Fin and Paul Chapman (the guitarist who
replaced the original Waysted casualties in '84) and began work on
a new Waysted record. As of 2/04, it’s still in the works. Yeah,
but will they still rock? Has Pete Way gone soft in these drugless,
flash-free times? Well, in a recent interview on
getreadytorock.com, they asked Pete if he listened to any
‘new bands’, and he said, “They all sound the same to me. I listen to
Buckcherry, the Cult, and Sisters of Mercy.” Which is
pretty much the same thing I’d say, so my guess is yeah, it’s gonna rock.
And hell, even if it doesn’t, who’s gonna argue? It’s Waysted,
man. See, in an age of hairspray and lipstick and high-pitched screeches
and tragic Van Halen rip-offs, Waysted chose, simply, to
NOT FUCK AROUND. They played dirty-ass rock that was as powerful as
the most blistering, punk-fried Flash Metal
band, but instead of following any woeful signs o’ the times, they just
did their own thing, baby. And that thing they did was called Rock n’
Roll. It’s pretty amazing, really. So many bands of the
flash metal era require at least a little suspension of
disbelief to truly appreciate ‘em, a little “You gotta remember, this was
198whatever….”, but not Waysted. “Vices” rocked in 1983, and
it STILL ROCKS, right now. Which is really more than you oughta be
asking from a band in pirate shirts and eyeliner, ya know?
Goddamn, I wish I would bought that fuckin’ t-shirt when I had the chance.
Anyway, truth of it all is, Waysted didn’t commit
Flash Metal Suicide at all, WE
did, by opting for the dumb, flashy stuff instead of the good, rockin’
stuff back in the days when we actually had a choice. But it’s just like
Jim Thirwell once told me, man. People ALWAYS go for the
dumb bits. Redemption is just one dusty record away, tho. “Vices”
remains a classic of sleazy hard rock. Even after all these Waysted
years.
Further:
Pete Way official website
( with bitchin’ audio interview clips!)
Paul Chapman official
website
-Sleazegrinder
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