Rock Bio Quotes

“We rolled down the boulevard, like so many of my idols had. Movie stars, rock stars. They‘d all walked these streets where dreams were contagious and the energy was thick and palpable.

As we drove, we passed many sites I’d longed dreamed of seeing. The billboard at La Cienega where all the iconic albums appeared. Jay Ward Studios, home of my childhood favorites Rocky and Bullwinkle. Sunset Strip Tattoo. Tower Records. The corner that appears on the cover for Sweet’s Desolation Boulevard in front of what is now the Viper Room.
And then the Whisky a Go Go came into view. We took a left at San Vicente, in search of a parking spot. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see it was already teeming with flaming youth and locating a spot on Sunset would be impossible. Finding a spot on Harratt Street, we trekked up to Sunset, happy to have found a spot within walking distance. We piled out, excited as hell. As we stopped at Clark to cross the street in front of the Whisky, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. From Clark to Doheny, Sunset Boulevard was packed with guys and girls. And they all looked like me. In Madison, I stuck out. I was tall, had hair to my elbows, and wore loud outfits. It got me threatened many times. And complimented occasionally. On this summer night in 1985, I got my ass handed to me: I was not unique. Good Lord. Here were hundreds chasing the same dream, stretching out for a quarter mile. What was I thinking?
We walked over to the Whisky a Go Go. I’d heard of it for years. Legendary. Iconic. Everyone played here. The Doors. Alice Cooper. Van Halen. Now, here it was, staring me in the face. When was my fucking turn?
We took a left, west on Sunset, and trudged uphill, like aqua-netted sardines, packed asses to elbows. Flyers, stickers, tickets for shows all being handed out like confetti. Ticker tape parades for bands that may never make it.

Pants that were lacquered on. Hair like a tesla coil. Perfectly placed smoky eye shadow. And that was the guys. The girls, who all looked like they’d been peeled off the pages of Penthouse, were outrageously friendly, gorgeous, playful, and plentiful. This was a Roman orgy on a summer evening.
It was all I could do not to induce whiplash as we took it all in. The night’s goal was to absorb the Strip and what it had to offer, but I was hoping to see a band, too. At some point we had to see what we were up against.”
― Chris McLernon, Screaming in Hollywood: The Last Gold Rush