RECORD STORE TALES #1132: Youth Gone Not-So-Wild

I love admitting to my past musical sins.  Perhaps others will learn from my mistakes.

I was in grade 11, a mere 16 years old, when the music video for “Youth Gone Wild” hit the airwaves.  Skid Row were the latest thing, a band promoted by Jon Bon Jovi himself, from his home state of New Jersey.  We didn’t know yet that the lead singer, Sebastian Bach, identified as a Canadian.  He grew up in Peterborough Ontario, just on the other side of Toronto.  In fact, I didn’t know that I already had something of Bach in my music video collection.  I had a brief clip of him, with teased up hair, in a prior band called Madame X.  This band was led by Maxine Petrucci, sister of Roxy Petrucci from Vixen.  They featured a young Sebastian Bach and Mark “Bam Bam” McConnell whom Bach would play with in VO5.   I wasn’t into any of those bands.  I was pretty hard-headed about what I liked and disliked.

In Spring 1989, I first encountered “Youth Gone Wild” on the Pepsi Power Hour.  It could have been Michael Williams hosting, but whoever it was, they hyped up this new band called Skid Row.  I liked getting in on new bands from the ground floor.  Made them easier to collect when you started at the start.  At that point, I wasn’t even sure how many albums Judas Priest actually had.  I was intrigued enough to hit “record” on my VCR as the music video began.  I caught the opening “Ba-boom!” of drums, and sat back to watch.

While I wasn’t blown away, I kept recording.  The key was the singer.  If the singer sucked, I’d usually hit “stop” and rewind back to where I was.  The singer passed the test:  he didn’t suck.  I kept recording.

After about a minute, I pressed the “stop” button, and lamented that this new band wasn’t for me.  What happened?  What did Skid Row do to turn me off so quickly?

I can admit this.  I’ve always been open about the fact that I was very image-driven as a teenager.  We all were!  With the exception of maybe George Balazs, all the neighborhood kids were into image to some degree or another.  I was probably driven by image more than the average kid, consuming magazines and music videos by the metric tonne.  So, what exactly was wrong with Skid Row?

I’ll tell ya, folks.  It was serious.

The bass player had a chain going from his nose to his ear.

I just could not.  I couldn’t put a poster on my wall with some band that had a bass player with a chain that went from his nose to his ear!  No way, no f’n way.

I pressed rewind, and prepared to record the next video over Skid Row.

That summer, the glorious, legendary summer of ’89, I went with Warrant.  I bought their debut album sight-unseen, based on a blurb in the Columbia House catalogue.  Warrant were the selection of the month.  “What the hell,” I thought, and checked the box to order it immediately.

Meanwhile, Bob Schipper and the girl I liked, named Tammy, were really into Skid Row.  They knew all about my issues with the nose chain.  They got under my skin about it a bit, but I wouldn’t bend on Skid Row.

“18 and Life” was the next single, a dark power ballad that was easy for me to ignore.  “I Remember You” was harder to pass on.  It was the perfect acoustic ballad for 1989.  You had the nostalgic lyrics, which Bob and I both connected with.  Somehow, we knew that 1989 was the absolute pinnacle.  We knew this would be the summer to beat!  Bon Jovi and Def Leppard were still on the charts.  Aerosmith and Motley Crue had new singles out with albums incoming.  We walked around singing “Summer of ’69” by Bryan Adams, except we changed the words to “Summer of ’89”.  We just knew.  “Got my first real six string…” we sang.  And we both had our own fairly new guitars that we could barely play.

“I Remember You” was a massive hit, and still I resisted.

“Because of the nose chain?” Bob Schipper questioned me.

Absolutely because of the nose chain!

I stood firm for two years.  Bob Schipper went to college, and Tammy was long distance and not meant to last.  I felt a bit like an island by the time 1991 rolled around.  I felt alone.  My best friend was gone, I had no girlfriend, and most of my school friends went their own ways.  I was a loner like I’d never been in my life before.  Music was my companion, and my beloved rock magazines were my library.

That’s how Skid Row eventually got me.  Sebastian Bach had a good friend in Drew Masters, who published the excellent M.E.A.T Magazine out of Toronto.  Drew’s praise for the forthcoming second Skid Row album, Slave to the Grind, was unrelenting.  He caught my ear.  I was looking for heavier music in my life, not satisfied with Priest’s Painkiller as one of the heaviest albums I owned.  I wanted more rock, and I wanted it heavy.

The other thing that got me was the collector’s itch.  When I found out that Slave to the Grind was released in two versions with different exclusive songs, I was triggered.  I had to have both.

“I’ll make a tape, and put both songs on my version!”  It was a pretty cool idea.

Costco had Slave to the Grind in stock.  They had the full-on version with “Get the Fuck Out”, the song that was excluded from the more store-friendly version.  Columbia House stocked the tame version, which had a completely different song called “Beggars Day”.  I bought the CD from Costco, the vinyl from Columbia House, and suddenly I was the only guy in town who had the full set.  I made my cassette with joy, recreating the Skid Row logo on the spine, and writing the song titles in with red ink.

“Get the Fuck Out” was track 6, side one.  “Beggars Day” was track 7, side one.  I still have them in that order in my mp3 files today.

Sure, there was an audible change in sound when the tape source went from CD to vinyl, but I couldn’t afford two CD copies.  Little did I know how cool it would be later on to have an original vinyl copy of Slave to the Grind.

I loved the album.  I loved all three of the ballads.  The production was sharp.  There were excellent deep cuts:  “The Threat”, “Livin’ on a Chain Gang”, and “Riot Act” were all as great as any of the singles.  Furthermore, the singer had taken it to new heights of intensity and excellence.

I let Skid Row into my heart that day.  It was a good decision.  Skid Row accompanied me through times good and bad, lonely and angry.  They were my companion through it all, and they’re still pretty good.  It was meant to be!