All language subtitles for We Are Twisted Fucking Sister! 2014

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

Before we begin
we would just like to remind you

that the act you are
about to see

is not for the faint of heart.

Twisted Sister has been accused
of using foul,

indecent and profane language
during the course of their show.

If you do not-- repeat--
if you do not wish to subject yourself

and/or your loved
ones to such abuse,

then please vacate
the premises now!

Thank you very much.

Now?! Right.

They look like women,
they play like men,

and they're the biggest bunch of hell raisers
to come out of the States!

It's Twisted Sister!

♪ Good evening! ♪

♪ Welcome to our show! ♪

♪ If you've got that problem,
yeah ♪

♪ Well I think that
you should know ♪

♪ I want to tell you something ♪

♪ I'm someone you can trust ♪

♪ You better take a good
hard look ♪

♪ 'Cause there's a diamond
in this dust ♪

♪ Hit it!
We're no overnight sensation ♪

♪ No Cinderella fantasy ♪

♪ Please no plaudits
or ovations ♪

♪ I've heard it all before
you see... ♪

In the summer of '72

I pretty much determined
that the drug scene

that I had been part of as
a hippie New York City kid

was pretty much over.

And during that summer I had gotten
a subscription to "Fusion Magazine"

and with that subscription
came a Lou Reed album,

a David Bowie album,
and a Mott the Hoople album.

And the cover of "Fusion"
had David Bowie on it.

And I went whoa! Whoa!
What's this?!

This is not the Grateful Dead.

This is something
completely different.

And I changed gears 180 degrees.

And so when The Dolls started
playing at Mercer Arts Center,

that was a new world for me.

Bowie was there,
and Lou Reed was there.

And there was this
glam glitter kinda thing.

You know I strangely
was connected to it,

except I was a musician

and these bands
were not that musical to me.

They were pretty bad actually.

I mean they were awful.

They looked great.
Man, The Dolls looked amazing.

I would go home and go,

"That band, if they could play,
they're gonna make a fortune.

But they do suck."

And I thought, "Wow, if you could get
a band like that, but be good!"

I started to put the feelers out,

you know, that I wanted
to be in a glitter band.

And I get this phone call
from a guy

who kinda sounded
like Rocky Balboa.

And he was like,
"Hey, how you doing?

My name is Mel,
you's inta Glittah?"

"You's inta Glittah?"--
I'd never heard that phrase,

"Youse inta Glittah."
Like You's?

Yeah, I'm into glitter.

"Bowie, Lou Reed,
Mott the Hoople, yeah, yeah."

"We gotta band together,

and we're gonna be like
dressing like women."

I said, "Really?"

I said,
"Are there a lot of groupies?"

He said, "Oh yeah,
you gonna get laid a lot."

And when he comes to my house,

you know, the doorbell rings
and I look out.

And there's this
African-American guy there.

And I go, "Excuse me,
who are you?"

And he goes, "It's Mel."
And I went, "Oh, okay. Whatever."

We get in the car and drive
to the first rehearsal in New Jersey.

And they told me that night,
if you want the gig, you want in,

basically it's yours.

The band had
a kind of template.

There was Michael
the singer,

and Billy the guitar player

who fashioned themselves
as Mick and Keith.

Mel was more
of a jazz-influenced drummer,

I think, but a good drummer.

Kenny on bass
was this great musician

who seemed a little out of place
in the whole thing socially,

but a sensational musician.

So I thought
here's a good playing band.

And we're gonna
be like looking really great--

like, we'll look like The Dolls,

but we'll sound much better,
and we'll get a record deal.

Hello, Stu?
You're gonna freak out.

You should see this act.

The New York Dolls have
nothing on these guys.

One of the first questions
they asked me was would you be,

um, against like putting on any
makeup or anything like that.

And I figured yeah,
okay I could do that.

I never had.
Now this was stuff different

than what I was used to playing.

They were playing
like David Bowie--

like David who?!

This is, like, a little weird.
I didn't say anything,

'cause I wanted to be
like a team player.

So I wasn't really sure
if I liked it,

but when we would play
some of the songs,

like the energy was there.

And one thing for sure was,

I didn't wanna have to go get
a real job again.

In the '70s,
in New York,

the capital of the world
which had sort of been abandoned

by the grownups at that point

and left to anybody who had
the balls to still live there.

In the city proper you had rap,

which was you
know being born and developing

and punk was growing out
of downtown.

And as soon as you went
over a bridge

or through
a tunnel and left the city...

you were in America,
essentially,

and it was
a different world.

The beauty of that era
was that there was absolutely...

nothing to do
as far as nightlife,

except for go to the movies
or go see a live band.

And there was usually more
happening with the live bands.

And it was great

because everybody just
came out in droves.

The scene at that time, mid-'70s
or so, in the Tri-State area

started originally
like in Westchester County

and some parts of Long Island,

and it just grew
and grew and grew.

What I've understood,

it's the only place
in the country

that had this kind
of intense club area.

And much like there are still
to this day Top 40 bands,

uh, club owners
were looking for

bands that played the hits
of the day.

We were playing Led Zeppelin,

we were playing The Who,
we were playing Jethro Tull,

we were pretty infamous
for that.

And it was all done properly.

It was all done up to snuff

Everybody wanted to see,
oh, could they do AC/DC?

Could they do Led Zeppelin?

How good could they do this?

Nobody wanted
to hear original music.

And nobody played original music
at that time.

And lo and behold,
once you got into the circuit,

and you swam in that stream,

You know, all of a sudden it all
opened up, and there we were.

The first show
at the Satellite

was definitely something
different.

It was like a huge place,

and it actually was right
near Fort Dix Army base

and then right across the street
from McGuire Air Force base.

So you had like the Air Force
and the Army

and all these guys coming here.

The makeup we were
doing was very feminine.

And I remember
being like really nervous.

'Cause I'm thinking well they're
gonna take one look at us

and they're gonna
start throwing stuff.

But there was no one
in this room.

It was a giant bowling alley
that holds 3,000 people.

There was maybe
20 people a night.

Tuesday night, nobody.

Wednesday night, nobody.
Thursday night, nobody.

We kinda get comfortable
into the groove,

that maybe nobody's gonna show
up and we'll learn the songs

'cause we barely knew enough
songs to get through three sets.

We had to play five.
Come the weekend, bang!

There was 3,000 G.I.s--
oh, my God!

I was sick,
physically sick to my stomach.

Looked outside,
saw these 3,000 people,

saw myself in a dress
with a dog collar on,

thinking, "Oh, I am gonna
just get killed.

"This is where I'm gonna die.

It's come to this, dressed
in drag, I'm gonna be murdered."

But for whatever reason,

the soldiers there were just
drunk and wanted entertainment!

Around 16 years old
I was coming to a crossroads

where as an unpopular kid

who didn't have many friends
or didn't fit in

with any cliques or
anything like that,

I, um, came to a point
where I really realized

that I was sort of fading.

I was fading
into the background,

and I was becoming a nonentity.

And I remember literally sort
of shaking myself and saying,

that, you know, I will not go
quietly into the night!

And I was this sort of outcast
but I didn't really care.

I just became my own person.

I always sang in bands.
And that I started to excel at.

So my bands started becoming
the popular bands in the school.

Harlequin was my
post-high school band--

my first band to start to play out
in clubs a little bit.

But somewhere along the way,

I was offered the opportunity
to join a working bar band,

who weren't nearly
the band Harlequin was.

They were called Peacock.

But it was gonna
give me the opportunity

to actually make a living.

And I figured
I would really hone my craft.

So I left a much better band
to join a weaker band.

People just couldn't get over
the way we looked.

There really wasn't anybody
else out there in the scene

that was doing anything
like what we were doing.

We would kiss
during the Bowie medley.

And that would be
outrageous, but cool.

And the chicks would dig it,
and we'd get laid a lot.

We got these dog collars--

pretty severe, you know,
like this high, and studs.

And we got a chain and we would
chain each other together.

One thing we had to be careful
though was to make sure

the amplifiers were
grounded properly.

Otherwise you get
a heck of a shock.

We got a truck really cheap.

And we were able
to make $150 a night,

six nights a week
playing in one club.

You could actually make money.

I mean,
without sounding like my dad,

gas was, you know,
29 cents a gallon

and hotels were $39 a night,

and the truck rental
was like 50 bucks a week.

I mean you could
actually function.

We get the house band gig at
the Mad Hatter in the Hamptons,

which is this big nightclub
in Long Island.

For the summer of '73, 15 weeks
in a row, living above the club.

We're 20.

What do you think?

I mean it was ridiculous.
It was fun.

It was insane.
There were women everywhere.

The place would be absolutely
packed shoulder to shoulder.

People were going crazy.

The only problem was Michael
would get drunk as the night would go on,

and we'd play less music and
Michael would start to, like, drool.

It was, like, well
I shouldn't say funny,

but when you're
looking up at the stage

and you don't see
the front man up there

and you wonder-- and one of your
bouncers or your bartenders

are telling you,
"Bob, he's over here..."

And I'm, "Over where?"

He fell off the stage.
He's on the side of the stage.

I mean what kind of, you know.

But the whole band was drunk.

Mel fell over
on his drum seat one night.

I remember he drank something
like nine Rusty Nails.

He collapsed. Billy fell.

Kenny was drunk all the time.

I was surrounded by alcoholics,
and I didn't drink.

But we're making music

and we're obviously
making people happy.

And the band became bigger

and we finally got
into the second summer.

We were the house band
at the OBI East,

which is a club 10 times
the size of the Hamptons.

...we must have been good.

Unfortunately, we didn't have
the ability to harness it.

Our management really didn't understand
what the hell we were.

It's like trying to put a saddle
on an atomic bomb.

You know you kinda like
hold that sucker for as long as you can

before the whole
thing blows up.

And in this case with Twisted,
no one could control it.

And alcohol eventually
dismantled the band.

Well, we decided to get rid
of Michael and Billy.

So we were trying
to figure out what to do next.

We needed a new singer
and a new guitar player.

We contacted a guy
named Keith Angel,

He was working
with a singer named Rick Prince.

And the two of them grafted in.

And it was great.

Except that in the history
of Twisted Sister,

Rick Prince was there
for a total of nine weeks.

Rick just one day
doesn't show to a gig,

and we never hear
from him again.

So now, the question is,
what do you do?

We don't have a singer.

I'm so sick
of depending on people.

I figured, well, I'll sing.

'Cause I know
I'll show up at the gig.

But I have very limited
vocal ability.

God created Dylan
so I could do cover material.

So basically I become
the lead singer,

and that changes the focus
of the songs.

We do Kinks songs now.

We do Mott songs,
a lot more Lou Reed,

so I can sing.

So now it's a four-man band,
and we're working.

My days in Peacock,

P as in pee, C as in cock--
those of you on the left

can see the pee, those of you
on the right can see the cock--

that's what the keyboard
player used to say.

In Peacock I had a chance
to hone my craft

five days a week,
five sets a night.

But also building
a name for myself locally.

I knew that Twisted Sister was
a name in the club scene.

I used to see them
in the local papers,

and from hearing about them,
people would talk about them.

Mott The Hoople, Lou Reed,
you know, David Bowie,

that was their thing.

I liked all that stuff.
I loved all that stuff.

So I was very interested
in connecting with some people

like who were into that.

This new version
of Twisted Sister,

were winding its way
through the summer.

We lost our big gig at the OBI,
and I could sense that

if we didn't do
something drastic,

this band wasn't gonna last.

And my agent suggested
we get a n-- a lead singer.

And he suggested
this kid Danny Snider,

from a band called Peacock.

And I told Mel and Keith
in the dressing room

that I'm bringing a guy down
who's showing a real interest

in being the lead singer.

I should have realized
from their response

that this wasn't gonna go well.

They went,
"No, there's no reason

why we need a singer.
We're doing fine."

Well, we weren't doing fine.

I remember him coming up
and saying, "I'm what you need,

I can do this,
I can put you over the top."

I said, "Yeah sure,
you know, go away."

And I said, "Okay."
And as I'm walking away,

Jay Jay pragmatically--
always the pragmatist--

said, "You know, give me
your phone number just in case."

We played a show
at the Rock Palace

at Lake Carmel
on Labor Day Weekend of '75,

and after that night
that we played,

Mel and Keith
took the truck.

And said basically,
"Fuck you and Kenny.

This is ours
and we're done with you guys."

And we were faced with
having to break up

or start all over again.

Sometime around mid-October,

I said, "Kenny, you wanna
give it another shot?"

He said, "Yeah.
How you gonna find people?"

I said, "Well I can call my old
guitar player from high school,

Eddie Ojeda."

I was always
in a working band,

I was always playing
for a living.

When Jay Jay first told me,

you know, about putting a band
together and stuff,

I was kinda surprised
that you could go out

and play rock 'n' roll
at that time, in a band.

I thought you had to play,

you know, either funk or--
you know,

Funk is cool-- but something...
you had to play dance stuff.

We were looking around
for a drummer

and found Kevin John Grace and
basically trying to put together

some of the same material
we had.

We tried doing a
four piece, and it was cool.

We were doing more
like Rolling Stones stuff,

more middle of the road rock.

I was now exposed as a singer.

So we used to do songs
and I would berate the audience

and try to get them
to clap along with us.

Hustle them in any way I could
to try to get a reaction,

because we sucked,

or I thought we sucked
or I didn't have any confidence

in what we did, and I figured
well, if I can't get them to--

if we can't play better,

I'll beat them to death
until they clap.

It was fun but it
wasn't-- it was like,

we would have been
just a cover band.

It woulda been just
a fun cover band.

I had a desire to get back
to where I just was--

forget about exceeding that.

I already-- I'd felt, like I
said, the 2,000 people in the bar.

I felt the power of a band.

I wanted that, man,
I really wanted it.

So we knew we had
to do something.

So we decided,
let's get a singer.

And so...

I called Dee again.

And he invited me to come up
to Hunter Mountain.

The band was booked
for a weekend.

We could audition,
and if it worked out,

we could rehearse,
and we could play that weekend.

This was going
to be my big audition

and my big shot at stardom.

So we finally gave him a chance,

and we were amazed
at how good he was.

And one of the greatest things
was, like,

uh, he didn't drink!

After I did my audition,

Jay Jay took me outside
and he sorta said,

"Well, I own the name,
and I own the P.A. system.

Are you cool with that?"

And I said, "Yeah, okay."

And he goes, "Alright,
we'll see how it goes."

I was never officially told,
"You're in."

It was just,
"We'll see how it goes."

So I've been sort of on a trial
basis for the last 35 years.

You know, I don't know,
I'm waiting to get the call.

So we started rehearsing
with Kevin.

And that was a problem 'cause Kevin's
drumming was not really that good,

and we knew
that was the next issue.

Jay Jay had
a friend named Tony Petrie,

who he had worked
with years ago.

Jay Jay said,
"This guy Tony is a hard hitter,

he's a great drummer,
and he's in."

So, uh, we started rehearsals
behind Kevin John Grace's back.

We established a pattern
in Twisted Sister

that you don't fire a guy
till you have a new guy ready

because you can't afford
to lose dates.

So we rehearsed with Tony,
we got Tony all prepped.

We tell Kevin it's over.

And now with the band of me
and Dee and Tony and Kenny and Eddie,

that band now makes
the frontal assault

on the Long Island bar scene.

Let's go!

Come on, babies!
You all know the words, it's--

Hey man!

♪ Hey man ♪

♪ Ah leave me alone you know ♪

♪ Hey man ♪

♪ Well Henry, get off the phone,
I gotta ♪

♪ Hey man ♪

♪ I gotta straighten my face ♪

♪ This mellow black chick just
put my spine out of place ♪

♪ Hey man ♪

♪ My school day's insane ♪

♪ Hey man ♪

♪ My work's down the drain ♪

♪ Hey man ♪

♪ Well she's a total blam-blam ♪

♪ She said she had to squeeze it
but she... then she... ♪

♪ Ah don't lean on me, man,
'cause you can't afford the ticket ♪

♪ I'm back from
Suffragette City ♪

♪ Oh don't lean on me, man ♪

♪ 'Cause you ain't got time
to check it ♪

♪ You know my
Suffragette City... ♪

I remember my father
was at a show.

And my father was pretty blunt
about it. He says,

"You guys were pretty boring till you
brought him up on stage."

♪ Ohhh, Wham Bam
Thank you, Ma'am ♪

♪ Suffragette City ♪

♪ Suffragette City ♪

♪ Suffragette! ♪

♪ Oh, Suffragette! ♪

So then when Dee joined
the band, he said,

"Oh, let's wear make-up
and, you know,

and go back to that look."

Hear that, babies?

It may be hot
but we're gonna make it hotter!

♪ Doo doo doo-doo
doo doo doo doo ♪

♪ You've got your mother
in a whirl ♪

♪ She ain't sure if you're
a boy or a girl ♪

♪ Hey, babe,
your hair's alright ♪

♪ Hey, babe,
let's go out tonight... ♪

Little by little we just started
getting really flashy

and putting on more make-up
and doing up the hair

and, you know,
the clothes and stuff,

and stealing our mom's clothes
and things like that.

But I only actually took
one-- two shirts from my mother.

It's not like
I stole all her clothes.

♪ You love bands when
they're playing hard ♪

♪ You want more
and you want it fast ♪

♪ They put you down,
they say I'm wrong ♪

♪ You tacky thing,
you put them on... ♪

As far as the image went,

I was, like I said,
looking to get more adventurous.

Then I met Suzette.

Well I was 15 and
I borrowed my cousin's I.D.,

who was much older than me,
but I looked-- I didn't look 15.

So I snuck in, and I went
to go see the girls band, Twisted Sister.

I thought they were gonna be
a bunch of girls, but they weren't.

They were a bunch of men trying
to look like girls.

I was a little blown
away when this big guy--

'cause Dee's 6'1"--
and he was wearing,

I think,
like eight-inch platforms,

with little hot pants.

He did not look attractive.
He was scary looking,

but incredible on stage.

And Dee mistaked me smiling as,
like, I was coming on to him.

And Dee slowly
walked over to me,

and he bent over on the side
of the stage

and he kinda gave me one
of these.

And I kinda felt like I was being
like sucked into the vortex.

She thought I looked ridiculous

and if I was gonna do it
I should be better at it.

So she started pushing me
to wear lipstick.

And I was,
"Hey, I'm not a fag."

This was a bizarre thing to say.

I'm wearing stockings
and hot pants when I meet her,

and thigh-high leather boots
and gloves.

You know-- "I'm Dee,
Blow Me" my shirt said.

But to me that was
like the line.

You know,
you're wearing lipstick?

I'm not wearing lipstick.
And I remember she said,

"Well, I got this little tray
of lip glosses."

And here
at the bottom is just clear.

And at the other end
was a hot bright red.

She says,
"Just put some clear on."

And I'm like, "Well okay, clear.
But you know.

I'm not gay." Okay.

Clear lip gloss.

And I quickly ran out
of that compartment

and the next one
was a little beige-ish.

So I went through that one.

Well, it was
about a line of a dozen.

By the time
I ran out of the final one,

it was as red as red could be.

I was just full blown red.

We thought
that it would be a great idea

to get a band house.

The idea being
that we would live together,

we would create together,
we would bond.

And we rented a house
in a really nice neighborhood

in Massapequa, Long Island--
Old Harbor Greene.

And we all moved in.

We worked all night
and then we'd come home.

We'd go to sleep.
We'd wake up.

We'd see each other
in the kitchen every day.

So this was our lives.

One, two, three, four!

♪ When I was in a
rock 'n' roll band ♪

♪ And I was playin'
a one night stand ♪

♪ And I said I wanna
be your man ♪

♪ And it was fine ♪

♪ But T said that
we hadn't made it ♪

♪ Although so invaded ♪

♪ The situation is jaded
and it's a crime ♪

What happened,
rather than bringing

the band together
and bonding us,

my alienation began
in that house.

I really badly wanted to hang
with these guys.

They were older than me.
They were from Manhattan.

They were from the Bronx.
They had been in Twisted Sister.

You know.
They were these cool guys.

And I was this 21-year-old from
Long Island,

a rube, a dork,

and I didn't have nearly
the cool creds

that they had in any fashion.

And I really admired them
and looked up to them.

Jay Jay was our manager.

Kevin was our agent.

And we were having a meeting and
discussion about the originals

and we were talking all about
"Can't Stand Still,"

"For A Minute," and "TV Wife,"
"Follow Me."

He hated the songs
that we were doing.

And, of course, Dee being Dee
wasn't polite about it.

It wasn't like he went,
"Hey man, you know..."

I just blurted out,

and just said, "These songs
are-- I don't like these songs.

They're not right for the band.
They're not really great songs.

They're not gonna make a difference.
Blah, blah, blah..."

And I was just railing,

and Kevin Brenner said,
"Do you write songs?"

And I said, "Yes."

I'd written one
with Harlequin--

co-written one.

And he says, "Do you have
any songs... to submit?"

And I said, "No."

And he said,
"Well shut up until you do."

I came to Jay Jay
with an idea for a song,

and I don't remember it.

I very nervously
brought it to him.

Jay Jay, of course,
did not realize

the significance
of what was happening for me.

And when I presented the song
to him and I sang it to him

and I was just so nervous

and uncomfortable
singing this song.

Jay Jay said,

"Oh that's about you
and Suzette? That's cute."

And he turned away,

and started a conversation
with somebody else.

And that was
a really a big mistake.

Depending on how
you look at it.

I mean if you look at it as

a driving,
motivating force for me

to prove to Jay Jay
and the world

that I was somebody,

and the impetus to me
becoming this manic songwriter

who just started
churning songs out

at a ridiculous pace--

if you look at it as that,
then it was a good thing.

But it really distanced me
from the band,

and I just sort of went
into my own world

and I started creating
separately from the band.

My sole purpose was to obliterate
Jay Jay French and his songs

and take over song writing
completely.

I was maniacal

and malicious.

And uh...

I did it.

♪ You and I,
We lit the fire ♪

♪ We build it, baby,
My desire ♪

♪ But now you say
I overdo it ♪

♪ Be careful, baby,
Don't make me choose it ♪

♪ Oh, always,
Oh, always ♪

♪ Gotta pay the price ♪

♪ Oughta hear
who'd love for free ♪

♪ Gotta pay the price ♪

♪ Oh, pay the price
for loving me, yeah... ♪

Dee didn't fit in to me.

But then again,
I was a pragmatist.

I needed a singer,
I'm not a singer.

I mean, I needed somebody like
that and if it came with baggage

I was prepared to put up
with baggage to a degree.

It was "Come Back."
It was "Pay The Price."

I think were the first tracks.

That's when I kinda
went, "Wow,

the guy's got...
something there."

♪ Pay the price ♪

♪ Oh, pay the price
for lovin' me, yeah ♪

♪ For lovin' me, yeah... ♪

When I joined the band,

Jay Jay was already-- had
a rapport with the audience.

I guess that's
what you would call it.

A rapport where he would talk
between songs.

There were certain songs
where he would go

for a little audience
participation or whatever.

So it was
definitely existing

to my memory, and I would
just stand off to the side.

We would finish a song
and I would step back,

Jay Jay would talk. I might
throw a word in or two here.

But this was Jay Jay's band,

you know
I was joining Twisted Sister.

And I was the kid
and he was the seasoned pro.

As the summer begins,
ladies and gentlemen,

and we all party ourself
to death,

we'd like to welcome you
to the summer of '77

with a song called,
"Sweet Jane!"

♪ Standin' on the corner ♪

♪ Suitcase in my hand ♪

♪ Jack's in his corset,
Jane's in her vest ♪

♪ I'm in a rock 'n' roll band ♪

I sang the song "Sweet Jane"
and that was my thing.

And somewhere in the middle
of "Sweet Jane," one night,

I would get the audience
to sing the phrase "Sweet Jane,"

I stopped the show.

♪ Sweet Jane ♪

Now is that easy or what?

And I said, you know what?

Why don't we get a couple
of people up on stage

and sing along.

And so we invited people
on stage to sing along.

And we had a big gong behind us,
'cause in the "Gong Show,"

they would gong you
if you sucked.

So I'd have the person sing

and then if they sucked,
my drummer would--

the audience would basically
be like the Roman amphitheater.

You know, "They suck."
And he'd gong them out.

And if they sang well,
they got a round of applause.

And that lasted a couple
of weeks.

But you know I needed more.

So I said to the bartender,

"Send up some shot glasses
and give me some booze

and maybe we'll take a shot of
something and try it."

What are you looking for,
a stoned person?

I'm looking for a beer!

So they sent a bottle of tequila
up or Wild Turkey or something

and there was maybe
five or six girls and guys.

And we'd give them a shot
and they'd sing "Sweet Jane"

and then they would just get
more drunk and be stupider,

and the reaction
would get bigger,

and the crowd
started getting bigger.

♪ Sweet Jane ♪

♪ Sweet Jane ♪

This is the big difference between us
and all these other bands.

We're not playing music here.
We're bullshitting.

We're telling jokes.
We're just getting people drunk

and telling them
to sing "Sweet Jane!"

And getting them laughed off
the stage and gonging them.

And more alcohol,
and more alcohol comes in.

And finally one night I think
we're six or seven shots in

and some guys
throw up onstage,

and he was this big fat guy--
they called him Buddha.

And he throws up
in a waste paper basket

and the place went crazy.

"Buddha, Buddha."
And I'm thinking,

Wow man...

they're throwing up,
and they're loving it.

This is... what a image!

So we'll do "The Drop Till
You Vomit Gong Show."

No, it's "The Sweet Jane Drink
Till You Puke Gong Show."

Right.
That's what it was.

Yeah, believe it or not
there was a line of people

that couldn't wait to drink
till they puked.

I feel totally fucked
up right now!

And that's fucking great!

One guy actually turned
around and puked.

And then turned around
and said,

"Okay, I'm ready to go some more."

It was nasty...

unless you like vomit.

♪ Some people like to go out
dancing, babies ♪

♪ Well people like us,
we just gotta work ♪

The last night we made
them drink...

Well let me put it
to you this way...

Do you know how
when you watch the hot dog

eating contest on Coney Island,
the thin guy always wins?

There's like some fat guy,

but like some little Japanese
dude eats 1,000 hot dogs?

Well, it came down
to Buddha

and some really thin,
little dude,

and they drank.

And at some point in the night,
the bartender said,

"I think you've given
them enough to die"--

or something like--

"I think you've given them
possibly a lethal..."

I mean, have no idea!

I hate this.
I don't drink!

I don't know what's a lethal
amount of alcohol or not.

But needless to say,

the winner got a case of beer,
which is a joke.

So the kid,
the thin kid wins

and they handed him the case
and he just colla--

He couldn't hold it.
He was so fucked up!

If we tried it today,

it's criminal-- I'm sure
we'd all end up in jail.

Uh, they don't look kindly on
things like this anymore.

But back in those days
it was just good, clean fun!

Long Island, you're outrageous!
Thank you!

I mean crazy stuff
happened.

And also humiliating stuff
happened.

For example the World Series,

when the Yankees played in '77,
we couldn't...

people didn't want us to play.

The game would be on television.

They'd have a couple
of TV sets up there,

and we'd go out onstage--
"Hey, shut up!

We're watching
the fucking Yankee game!"

We walk offstage and go,
"Fuck, you know what?

We're not gonna play until the
goddamn World Series is over!"

So we'd show up on a...
we'd show up

and just sit around
till the damn game is over.

And that, by the way, wasn't
the only time that happened.

You know, you're a bar band,

you're just an adjunct
to the night.

Maybe this is another reason
why we wanted to be loved

and wanted to make something
of ourselves.

Because we weren't just like,

"Oh! Let's go to the bar!

Oh, there's a band there."

Yeah, and they're
just a fucking--

they're just there to be--
to give us some background music

while we figure out ways
to get high and get laid."

And we're thinking,
"No, no, no!

"We're a band!
We're more than that!

"We're more
than just background music

for you to get high and
get laid to! We're something!"

Tonight we have
a little message for you,

ladies and gentlemen.
Everybody read it?

It says, "Disco Fucking Sucks,"
you hear what I'm saying?

Now everybody,

I want you on the count
of three to read the sign!

Are you ready to go?

One, two, three--
Disco Fuckin' Sucks!

Class, one more time!

When you're on stage
and doing schtick

you're trying to kill
four hours a night, you know?

It's a lot to do,
a lotta music to play

and you're looking
for other things

to sort of stretch it out.

And "Disco Sucks" got a huge
response from the audience

so it quickly became
a thing for us.

Dee or me said something
like "Disco sucks."

Someone yelled out something.

Maybe someone yelled out,

"Yeah! Disco sucks!"

Maybe. And we went,
"Yeah, Disco sucks..."

I don't know. But the reaction
to those words was like whoo!

It was like you lit a fire,

and all of a sudden we looked
at each other and went-- Bingo!

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

They would go down
to the record store

and pick up a bunch
of Disco singles.

And they would spread them out
on the stage.

And then Dee would get
a big sledgehammer

and you know everybody
at the count of three--

"Disco sucks!" and he would
just take the sledgehammer

and bash the fucking shit out of
the fucking Disco records, ahh!

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

And that was part
of the club touring gear

was a sledgehammer.

You know, amplifier,
guitars, sledgehammer.

And uh, that's about as metal
as you can get, right?

♪ Well, I hate Disco music ♪

♪ 'Cause Disco music
really sucks ♪

♪ Well, I hate Disco music ♪

♪ 'Cause Disco really sucks ♪

Everybody would be pumping
their arms in the air

because you believed these guys
were gonna save rock 'n' roll

and stamp out dirty Disco,
you know?

It was-- it was a real fight!

There were Disco people
and there were rock people.

And it was, you know,
nobody met.

This was not a racial issue

because as far
as I was concerned,

there were no African-Americans

in any of these clubs
to see any of these bands.

It was--
to me it seemed like

a Brooklyn
John Travolta cliche

versus guys wearing jeans
and t-shirts and sneakers.

And we exploited
the sociological break.

Boy did we exploit it.

Louder!

I hate Disco music...

Why?!

'Cause Disco really sucks!

I said, the Village People
and Barry White,

take a rocket to the moon
and stay out of my sight!

♪ 'Cause I hate Disco music ♪

♪ 'Cause Disco really sucks,
oh yeah... ♪

We decided to hold
a trial of Barry White

and find him guilty of destroying
American popular music.

They had this big mannequin
dressed in a tuxedo,

with a long,
curly black wig on

and they would
bring it out and say,

"Barry White
couldn't be here tonight

so we're just gonna have
to hang him in effigy."

They would hang him,
and then beat him like a piñata.

With a big bat.

And the crowd would go wild
and "Kill him, kill him!"

They would chant,
you know.

And so we're off stage
thinking,

"Yeah, that went
over pretty well." You know?

Well, let me tell
you something.

We did it for a while

until we did it one time
in some rural town

in upstate New York--
Lake Carmel, the Rock Palace.

And we did our hanging
of Barry White

and the crowd went nuts,
loved it.

I think we even pulled down the body
and started ripping it apart.

I mean we would really
just get into it.

And after the show this real
redneck club owner said to us,

"I don't know about
Barry White,

but you hang
a nigger in this town,

you're okay in my book."

You know I'm like,
"What?!"

He said, "You hung a nigger.
You can't go wrong!"

It was like, "Holy shit!"

You know like we--
Long Island,

not a prejudice bone in our
bodies, it was anything--

so distant from our minds.

On some level I can laugh
about it and it's absurdity.

On the other hand
I'm disgusted by it

and uh the fact that I could
have been part of anything

that would have elicited
that response by anybody,

the fact that I would carry
that negative energy on anyone,

really-- you know,
makes me sick.

And we stopped it immediately
and moved on.

And our antidote to that was

to build an electric chair
and fry Andrea True.

It must have been about two months
into our relationship,

and I was wearing a shirt
that Dee was blown away by.

And all he kept saying to me

was how beautiful I looked
and how beautiful the shirt was,

and where I got it,
and just how amazing I looked.

So about two weeks later
I decided

that I was going to go see him

and I was gonna wear this shirt
that blew him away.

And I'll never forget
pulling up to the bar.

And Dee is onstage,

and he is wearing
the same shirt I am wearing!

I was horrified.

I mean,
the worst thing you can imagine,

you go someplace and somebody else
is wearing what you're wearing.

Yet your boyfriend?

So I said, "That's it.
I'll start making him clothes.

And this is not gonna

be a situation that I'm
gonna be in again,

because my boyfriend cannot

be wearing the same clothes
I'm wearing!"

Suzette was making shit for me,
costumes.

I would wear anything she made,

and she made some
ridiculous outfits for me.

The guys used to be embarrassed.

Eddie would say,
"How can you wear that onstage?

Your whole johnson
is hanging out."

I was just like Suzette made it,
I'm wearing it.

Early on there,

people were starting
to call me Twisted Sister,

because I was the one dressing
up, and the band was not.

I knew that didn't sit well
with the band.

Jay Jay came to me
and Jay Jay confronted me

and asked me
if I would start basically

making everyone's costumes
in the band.

And I said absolutely.

And the whole band started
getting onboard one by one.

And slowly I started
teaching everybody in the band

how to do makeup,
and started doing

everybody's hair--
everybody's clothes.

Twisted Sister was designed
to overwhelm an audience.

You know, other bands were
just going out with music.

Well, we had music, too.

But what could we do
that was past the music?

Well, the glam thing
afforded us the costumes

and then the make-up,
and then if there was staging,

or any other implementation
we could do--

anything
we could bring to the table

to throw more weight
in our direction.

We did it.

So when other bands
would go up against us

if you're coming in,
you know, and you've got a bat,

and the other guy's got a bat
and a gun and a knife,

you're gonna lose.

So whatever they could do,

we would always just figure out
how to outdo that.

I don't know how much
of a musical band we are,

as much as we're
a predatory band.

Which is,
put this fish in the water

and give this fish a target,

and say this fish
must kill that fish,

and this fish will go out
there and kill that fish.

And I don't care
how insensitive that sounds,

I don't care how, uh...

infantile that sounds,
that's the way of this band.

We're very predatory.

And in the bars,
it was kill or be killed.

Zebra was rumored to be this
killer band from New Orleans,

who were just,
you know, dragon slayers.

I remember the first day
I saw Twisted, you know,

I'd heard about them
but I hadn't met them.

And I'm expecting
these crazy guys to come in

and you know they just came
in in their jeans

and regular clothes.

Maybe a little leather
or something.

But they were just dressed
normal you know.

And I said,
"Oh this is no big deal."

So I remember that night the band
really stepping up their game,

and everybody dressing
and everybody putting makeup on.

That night we're down
in our dressing room

and I see Dee walk out
of the dressing room.

And I don't really know
what it was he was wearing,

but in my mind it looked
like a pink neglige.

Poor Zebra,

they were just sort of
a prog band out of New Orleans

wearing jeans and t-shirts
and very talented band,

but we just came out
loaded for bear.

And we just destroyed them.

It was really crazy,

I mean these Southern boys
were getting a real dose.

People would come to shows to watch
me and Dee do this tandem ripping,

but what this ripping is doing
is two things--

it's not just ripping
a person or a band,

it's to create an atmosphere
that we are the kings.

This is our world,
we own this world.

We're the number one band
in this world.

So we set out to destroy the Rat Race
Choirs and the Good Rats

and the Zebras and anybody else
you threw in our path.

You know, tell us a band
that's more popular than us,

we're gonna go out,
we're gonna swim out there,

we're gonna eat them.

Dee may have gotten up
every morning with the desire

to blow me away
or to make me eat shit

or to prove how great
he was-- fine.

I got up every morning thinking

how am I gonna make more
money by blowing away

this band or that band-- fine.

We all had our own
little mini-targets.

Sister was definitely
the type of band

where you would have to be
prepared to throw down with--

when you were talking
with certain people

about bands and music,

because there was really
no middle ground with them.

People either really liked them
or really hated them.

I brought a few people
to see them with me

and they basically went
one or two times

and it wasn't for them.

Some of my friends
liked the band.

Some of my friends did not
like the band.

Some of my friends really
hated the band.

This one friend kind of decided
that he thought I was really

sort of losing my mind,

like literally losing my mind
for the fact

that I would go three or four
nights in a row and he--

we got in this big argument
one day in front of my house.

And we literally got
in a fistfight.

Like I beat him up.

People thought like what
are you a fag or something?

You follow around a bunch of guys
wearing makeup and women's clothes?

I said basically fuc-- go see
'em and judge for yourself.

I was very passionate
about what I was doing.

No one shared that passion...

with me and so be it.

I didn't ask anybody to.

What I was trying tell them is that
you don't know what you're missing.

From February '76 to August '78
there was no time off.

Five or six days a week,

every week, perfectly played,
every show.

We started playing a place
called Speaks,

which held, I think,
over 2,000 people.

And they would be like
shoulder to shoulder,

I mean absolutely jam packed,

and people outside waiting
to get in to see the band.

It was really pretty exciting.

During this time,

my drinking had gotten,
like, worse and worse.

I would wake up
at 2:00 in the afternoon.

But by 4:00 in the afternoon
I'd be starting to drink already.

A lot of times it was
kind of like hanging on,

what they call
white-knuckling it.

By the time I had graduated
high school

I was playing
nightclubs in bands.

Doing all copy music
at the time.

One day a drummer by the name
of Fred Enoch said to me,

he goes, "I got you an audition
with a band

"that's touring the world and
making albums and everything."

"Okay, what is it?"

And he goes,
"It's called The Dictators."

Who?

"The Dictators."

Never heard of them.

He got me the album,
and I looked at the cover

and I was horrified.

I couldn't believe
that somebody would have a guy

as a singer who can't sing.

It was more
like a special effect.

However I knew nothing
of punk rock at the time.

I didn't know any of that
existed in the city,

I never went to New York

to have anything to do
with the music scene there.

To make a long story short,

I spent about 2 1/2 years in
The Dictators and had enough.

I left the band.

And I had become good friends
with the guys in Twisted Sister.

So they said that they were
doing this big summertime club tour.

They would be very busy and
they needed help on the crew.

I said, "Well I'm out of a band
and I'm out of work.

I'll do it, why not?"

The summer of '78 was our big--

first really big
statement summer,

that we were a band
to be reckoned with.

We were the house band
at Speaks.

We were the house band
in the Hamptons.

It was really important.

We took out a big calendar
in the paper--

the Summer Of '78 Tour,
we called it.

We were able
to book it way in advance.

And the target was,

that we would play
the Calderone,

the theater in Hempstead,
Halloween.

I operated a theater
on Long Island called

the Calderone Concert Hall.

It was one
of the venues we worked in.

I met the band.

We had to discuss staging,
lighting, sound.

They hadn't played
on a theater stage before.

Um, I worked closely
with Jay Jay at the time

in making all the preparations.

Jay Jay wanted to use it
as a showcase

to try and bring
some record company people out.

The idea of the Calderone
was a statement.

It was gonna be original music,
and we were gonna

show that we could sell out
a theater.

We had no record deal.
This was important.

We had a huge line of amps
to make a statement

that Twisted Sister
was to be reckoned with,

with Black Sabbath
and anybody else

'cause we are bringing
the artillery.

We wanted
to fit every square inch--

and by the way-- most of it
was plugged in.

♪ Well, I feel like jumpin' ♪

♪ And walk right through
that door ♪

♪ You can't stop shakin' ♪

♪ Goin' to feet keep
stompin' the floor ♪

The show itself sold out.

We performed that night and it
was an eye-opening experience.

You know,
I remember coming off the stage

winded and exhausted,
literally having running.

Those pains like you get
from running.

And I couldn't understand it.

I never had
that experience before.

As it turned out we'd been
on stage for over 2 1/2 hours,

which was insane!

But we had no concept.

We just put every song we knew

on a piece of paper and just played them.

At the time I had done
Aerosmith at Madison Square Garden

Black Sabbath, Kiss--
many great performance bands.

And what I saw going on on that
stage with that audience,

was something that I could
maybe have seen five times ever.

So the Calderone show comes off

and the phone rings
the next day.

And it's Kenny.

And he says
are you sitting down?

And I said...

"Why?" I thought he was going
to tell me

he was marrying his girlfriend,
Carol.

And he said,

"Well I gotta let you know
that I have to leave the band."

And I said,
"What are you talking about?"

So I finally decided
to try one of these

popular recovery programs.

And I started to get my brains
back and started to, uh...

become... sober.

It's also like a
spiritual program.

So I started to think

maybe there is something
more out there.

So I had some friends of mine

who were in the program, like in
my same age group and all that,

who had become believers.

Kenny, as many, you know,

reformed alcoholics,
they become born again.

And after several months

I felt like I was
leading a double life.

'Cause I had this thing
over here,

with my new Christian friends,
plus I had like the band.

And I started to really think

that maybe it was
time to move on.

And I remember one
night in Zaffy's

Kenny brought down
The Dais, his church,

about a half-dozen
people came in,

watched the band,

and he wanted their verdict
on if being in Twisted Sister

conflicted with him
being a Christian.

And they said that,

Satan spoke through some of
my songs and Jay Jay's mouth.

And, yes,
it was a direct conflict

and that he should leave.

And, mind you, we're still
very much on course--

we are going
to the mountain top.

Wait a minute!

You're leaving the band
and you're telling me

you're leaving us
because they told you

the Devil speaks through me
and Dee? Let me get this clear.

Dee and I don't drink.
Dee and I don't smoke.

Dee and I don't do
any drugs whatsoever.

You're the alcoholic,

but the Devil speaks
through me and Dee.

Is that what you're saying?

I wanna really get
this straight.

"Well I know it kinda
sounds weird..."

Yeah! It does
sound weird, Kenny!

I don't get fucked up.

I have no idea
what you're talking about.

I'm a performer.

I go out there
and I do a schtick.

I do a show-- whatever.

So I try to talk him
out of it.

And I'm kind of making inroads
in keeping him.

So one day at Speaks,
my drummer, Tony, comes in,

and he's got a bandage on his
arm, and I go, "What's that?"

And he goes,
"It's my new tattoo."

And I go, "What is it?"

and he pulls aside and it's
like the demon or something.

And I'm like,
"Oh great, how cliched is this?"

And then he goes,
"You know Mike Bruno, he did it.

Mike, why don't you show
the band your tattoo?"

And Bruno takes off his shirt
and his entire back is the Demon.

And I'm looking at Kenny going,
"You win.

I guess there's
Devil worshiping."

Fine. You know?

That was kinda like
what are you gonna say?

Right before Thanksgiving,

we had done
a Saturday night show someplace

and we were all home.
And the phone rings in my house,

and I'm just
about falling asleep.

It's about 8:00 or 9:00 in the morning,
on a Sunday morning.

And I wake up
and it's Jay Jay French.

And he says to me, "Are you
still looking for a band?"

And I said, "Yes, of course."

I said, "You know it's fun
working with you guys

but I'd rather be a musician."

And he goes,
"Well, I have a band for you."

I said, "Okay, who is it?"
And he goes, "Twisted Sister."

And I said, "You know,
don't play with me like that."

And he goes,
"No, no I'm serious.

Kenny quit, and we need
a bass player. Do you want it?"

And I said, "Yeah, I'll
take it," just like that.

He says, "Okay, talk to you
later." Click. And he hangs up.

Mark was very much like me.

We're closer in age.
He's a year younger than me.

We're both from suburban
Long Island.

We lived only a couple of
towns away from each other.

We grew up with the same
suburban car guy, bike guy.

Musically we were connected
to the same things.

Finally there was
someone in the band

who was my partner in crime.

I have to tell you,
when Mark came onboard,

that just completed
the Dee metamorphosis.

What Kenny couldn't do,
is what Mark ultimately did.

Dee's music was heavy
but Kenny was finessing it.

Mark was just like
strapping it on to a 747

and ramming it
through a terminal.

♪ So many times you move me ♪

♪ When I know you really care ♪

♪ When I'm with you things
are alright ♪

♪ I know that you'll be there ♪

♪ But I can't let you
walk out that door ♪

♪ I can't let you
just say goodbye ♪

♪ And I can't let you
walk out that door ♪

♪ I can't let you,
you know I cry, I cry... ♪

I had been now managing
the band, uh,

alone since we reformed in '75.

And I found that
the daily grind

of playing and managing
became next to impossible.

He wasn't sleeping at all and
he was-- it was so exhausting,

he nearly had
a physical breakdown.

So I said, "Do you want me
to help you to find a manager?"

And he said,
"That would be great."

I started getting in touch
with people

and telling them
about this band,

people who I thought
had the management capability.

And one by one
they just said, "No."

And Jay said to me one day,
"Well, why don't you do it?"

I said, "Well, I'm not
a manager. I'm a promoter."

And he said, "Well, you've done
more for us than anyone else has.

We'll take the shot
if you will."

So I gave it some thought and, uh,
went into the management business.

We never played in Manhattan...

for a variety of reasons.

The clubs in Manhattan
were small and they didn't pay.

They thought they were
doing the bands a favor

to allow you to play there.

And we thought...

we were too good for them.

You know, we're not going
to play for nothing in a hole.

If you look at the map,
I mean, we're like what?

We're 20 miles away from CBGBs?

We may as well have been
1,000 miles away, right?

There was no cross.

Occasionally our fans
would saunter into the city

and come back with word
from the front.

Like, "Oh yeah,
we were at the Mudd Club

"or we saw
this band the other night

and we saw the Ramones
or whatever."

I'd go, "Yeah, how many people
did they pack into that place?"

In getting to know them
in the management sphere,

I would go out to see the shows
and I would realize

that Long Island was
sold-out engagements,

2,000 people, 500 people in line
who couldn't get in.

The same in New Jersey,
the same in Westchester.

They had the suburbs
completely dominated.

And I felt
that no one would really

give them the time of day.

So the strategy I came up
with was to pull them

out of the scene for a period
of a couple of months

and then just do one show
in Manhattan.

The premier spot
in New York City was The Palladium.

And I think it was
over 3,000 or 3,200--

it was bigger
than the Calderone.

And it was right in the heart
of the record industry.

So I called Ron Delsner who was
a friend, but a competitor,

and I said, "I have a band

that I'm managing that I'd like
to have play the Palladium."

And he said, "Who are they?"

And I said, "Twisted Sister."

And he said,
"What date do you want?"

The show was going to go on sale
on a Tuesday.

And he called me up
on Tuesday afternoon

and he said,
"Are you advertising the show?"

I said, "No Ronnie,
it's your show.

I'm not gonna
advertise your show. Why?"

He said,
"There's 1,110 seats sold.

It went on sale at noon today,
we didn't even break an ad."

And the next day the ad broke
in the "Village Voice"

and the industry know-it-alls,
who were into the cool scene,

were chuckling that,

"Watch, next week it's
going to say "cancelled."

And by Thursday
it was sold out.

And next week it said,
"Sold Out."

To book the Palladium,
sell out the Palladium,

in the heart of New York City
was basically just...

The fact that Twisted Sister
sold out the Palladium

with no record deal--

you know, that really cemented
in everybody's mind,

these guys are rock stars!

Playing the Palladium was
supposed to be the final step

in the road to superstardom.

The next step being
major record deal,

world tour,
world domination.

It had to be perfect.

It had to be right.

Staging, lighting,
new costumes,

rehearsals in a facility
that we could do full lights,

full sound, full staging.

So we had to rent
SIR's biggest room.

We even rented the Palladium

for a dress rehearsal
the day before the show.

This is gonna be it.
Every record label's coming,

and we've got
blurbs in the papers-- big deal.

And then during rehearsal--
dress rehearsal

at the Palladium--
catastrophe struck.

I was downstairs trying
to get ready

and I just,
I don't even remember,

I just passed out.
I think my head hit something.

They were looking for me
and I was downstairs,

you know,
I had a grand mal seizure.

Next thing I know
I'm in an ambulance.

Man I felt like--

like I got shot out of a canon
and then thrown

in a gorilla cage
and had an 800-pound ape

beat the shit out of me.

The show got postponed.

Because they couldn't do it
without me.

Man, you make plans
and you take hits

and it was devastating.

I mean,
it was absolutely devastating.

I went for walks--
how am I gonna come back from this?

How are we gonna
come back from this?

This was our shot,
this was our chance.

Listen, you do what you do.

You pick yourself up,
dust yourself off,

strap the spandex back on
and get back out there.

♪ They say, hey what are you
doin' with your life ♪

♪ Why don't you settle down... ♪

Nobody wanted it to end.

We were all proud.

The band was, you know, grateful.

They were electrified.
They were exhausted.

And we got, you know,
the show of a lifetime.

♪ I say ♪

♪ I'll never grow up,
I'll never grow up. ♪

We rescheduled,
the record labels,

basically all the ones
that were supposedly coming, didn't come.

Instead of now the heads of the
A&R departments being there,

the audience was filled
with their secretaries

and their assistants.

In a month's time
people looked at us

with the big Marshall stacks

and the costumes
and the staging,

and said we were passé.

We'd missed our opening.

The one person
who came back interested

was Epic Records--
Lennie Pizzi,

the head of Epic Records.

Now Lennie, again,

he had sent his secretary
or his assistant,

so he needed to see it
for himself.

Now we can offer limousine rides
to packed rooms every night.

But no, this had to be
in New York City

on his lunch hour
on a Monday.

Here he is, the head
of Epic Records

wants to see the same show

that we just put on
at the Palladium.

We agree.

It made me ill because you know
on a Monday we're off.

Monday means we have to come
in Sunday night,

prepare for the show.

He's gonna come in at noon
or 1:00 on his lunch hour.

It's humiliating.
But we agree.

So what did we do?

We rented SIR--
we rented all the equipment,

the sound, the lights,
the staging, everything--

and did a show
for Lennie Pizzi at--

was it 11:00 in the morning?

It in the...

it was crack of dawn as far as
Twisted Sister was concerned.

And he came in.

And the understanding was,

they were going
to pay us the expenses,

he would pay for the show.

I think around 12:00 or 1:00,
Lenny comes in,

the door opens up at the back
of SIR, there's one chair.

He sits down on the chair.

We play the whole
Palladium show.

We finish the show,
he's not there.

He tells our manager
he had another meeting.

We never hear back from him.

They never paid the money
for the show.

We were out of pocket
even more money.

We didn't get signed
and... we were derailed.

As a fan and not an insider

or somebody that worked
for the band or with the band,

you didn't know this.

You didn't know that it was
a failure, so to speak.

Because, you know,

that next night they were
going to be at Hammerheads

or, you know, Detroit,
playing again.

Judas Priest!

Hell Bent For Leather!

Can you get over
these things?

Kind of. You're playing
five nights a week.

You lick your wounds, yes.

You get over it, yes.

We had a luxury
that most bands don't have,

but it was still a kick
to the solar plexus.

♪ Seek him here,
seek him on the highway ♪

♪ Never knowing
when he'll appear ♪

♪ All await,
engine's ticking over ♪

♪ Hear the roar
as they sense the fear ♪

♪ Wheels! ♪

♪ A glint of steel
and a flash of light! ♪

♪ Screams! ♪

♪ From a streak of fire
as he strikes! ♪

♪ Hell bent,
hell bent for leather ♪

♪ Hell bent,
hell bent for leather... ♪

I saw-- I was going someplace.

And my big stumbling block
was these shithole clubs.

I fucking hated them.

They were a necessary evil.
They were hot.

They were cramped.
The stages were small.

They wouldn't allow me to do
what I needed to do.

They didn't treat me
like a star.

Point being--

I would really take
a lot out on these clubs,

and I would verbally abuse
the clubs.

And if there was something wrong
and something disgusting

I would let everybody know
how much I hated these clubs.

Dee would freak out
at sound checks,

and he'd throw people out
of clubs during sound checks.

And I would have to go and talk

to the bartenders
and kinda cool them out.

He'd start arguments
with club owners.

Maybe I'd have
to shut him up.

And he was a skinny little guy
with, uh,

40 pounds of hair so you're
gonna sell shit from the stage?

Wait till you get off
the stage, pal.

♪ Hell bent,
hell bent for leather... ♪

I was constantly running
interference

for Dee's bull-headed,
ridiculous behavior.

Take care you sick
motherfuckers!

But all they guys
did stupid shit.

The crew did stupid stuff.

And as the manager guy
who had to make the phone calls,

had to book the truck,
book the lighting gear.

I'll say one thing about that,

because I did
that every single day,

because I didn't get any sleep,

because I had to
get up in the morning

and talk to the trucking
company, the lighting company,

deal with the fighting
with the crew,

deal with the fighting
with the band,

deal with the fighting
with the agents,

deal with the agents
and the club owners,

I never could become
a rock star.

I was robbed
of my rock star.

And I said, "Now you get
yourself a road manager

that will handle these guys,
I'm not gonna be there.

I don't want the calls
at 3:00 in the morning

when someone doesn't want
to pay you, or whatever it is."

So I brought Joe in.

So now we had Mark Puma
and we had Joe Gerber.

So we had like a-- there was
a support system there.

And he was pretty fried
when I came in because

all he did was he handed me
Kevin Brenner's phone number--

the agent--

a bag of receipts,

a couple of looseleaf pages
of future dates,

and said, "Good luck."

And that was it.

And I sort of had to
figure it out for myself.

Which was half the--
either the terror or the fun.

But you know,
fear is a great motivator.

Here we go, babe!

So licking our wounds now
we go from April, May, June.

However, we did hear
that there was a concert format

at Adventureland Amusement Park.

And they were gonna have the
biggest bands in Long Island

play every Tuesday night
for a month.

We rented a plane and flew it
over Jones Beach

July 4th weekend saying,

"Twisted Sister Free Concert,
Adventureland."

The week before Zebra had done
about 6,000 people, I think,

the promoter thought
6 or 7,000 people showed up.

I think we did, too.

I called up one of my friends
and said, "Come on, free show.

How can we go wrong?

We got some beers, get in
the car, drive out there."

We couldn't understand
where the traffic was from.

Never ever expecting thousands
and thousands of people.

Three to five miles
in both directions.

Cars just abandoned
on the side of the road.

We were so far
in the back,

people were on top of the buildings
to watch the show.

It was a zoo.

We had a trailer to get ready in.

And I was, "So how's
it looking out there?"

And Joe was whitefaced.

He's like,
"Look out the window."

And I looked and it was
an ocean, an ocean of people!

There was not 7,000, not 10,000,
not 12,000, not 15,

but 22,000 people showed up.

23,000 people according
to the police estimate,

waiting to greet us.

The younger brothers and sisters
of everybody we had ever played for--

There was a two-story
office building,

across the parking lot
from the stage.

Kids were hanging all over it,
which was dangerous

'cause there was nothing to
prevent them from falling off.

We found out later

there was also a ridiculously
expensive microwave antenna

that they had bent into the shape
of a "T" and an "S."

We laid this anti-Disco barrage
to the point

where kids are running
to Republic Airport,

painting "Disco Sucks"
on the sides of planes.

We caused almost a riot

and because of the damage
done by our fans,

we are summarily banned
from all outdoor shows in Long Island

from that day on.

Oops!

You actually got up
in the morning.

You ate.

A lot of times
in the summer time

we'd go to the beach,

we'd come back,
we'd eat, we'd go play,

and um, we'd probably stay up
the whole damn night

and go home, fall asleep,
wake up.

It was this constant five
to seven nights a week playing

and it was just
a constant party.

Because you knew people.

You didn't know
if you were going home or not,

you would just end up
at somebody's house

and go to the next gig.

It was a lot like, um,

"Groundhog Day."

The clubs were different,
but the days became the same,

It was this repetition that went
on day after day

and week after week and month
after month and year after year.

It was getting to the club
at 3:00 in the afternoon,

doing your sound check,

hanging out until 10:00
at night, doing your shows,

getting back home
at 6:00 in the morning,

waking up at 1:00 in the
afternoon, taking a shower,

doing the whole thing
over again.

Week after week after week,

you play the same songs,
three sets, four sets a night.

And into Tuesday,
into Wednesday,

into Thursday, into Friday,
into Saturday.

I would just count down the
songs in the set-- five, four...

Until you collapse Saturday
night at 6:00am.

Sunday morning you slept
all day.

You had-- your relationships

with your girlfriends fell apart
because you had no energy.

One day off,
two days off and back again.

I did that for years!

You know I used to come home
some nights and think,

"Man, this is never
gonna end."

Like this is just
a bad dream.

I would craw
into a tub every morning!

I would crawl out of bed,
I couldn't talk.

And then I'd crawl right
into a tub.

And I'd just fall
into a bathtub--

a 20-something-year-old guy--
and soak in a hot tub

to get my body loosened up
so I could go do it again!

We came onstage at the time

that we were contracted
to go onstage--

because this is the discipline
we have as a professional band.

We played until
we couldn't play anymore,

We collapsed onstage
until there was nothing left.

But!

It felt so good. It's a joke,
it felt so good when I stopped.

I alwa-- I loved the achievement
of having blown away a crowd.

This incredible desire
to prove to the paying public

that we were the greatest live
band you could ever see.

And that we are going
to drain us,

and in the process, you, of all
energy in order to convince you.

I guess it's like any athlete,

or a runner or anybody
who excels, you know?

Like, you can't be victorious
unless you're willing to--

if it was easy
everybody'd be doing it.

This one's our single!

"I'll Never Grow Up Now!"

♪ They say, You better stop
your dreamin' ♪

♪ You're goin' nowhere fast... ♪

A girl comes up during
sound check and says to me,

"My mother told me

that Eddie Kramer is going
to come and see you."

And I went, "Eddie Kramer..."

Eddie Kramer... Like, there's
only one Eddie Kramer I know,

you know he's the super famous
producer/engineer guy

for Hendrix and Zeppelin
and the Rolling Stones.

That Eddie Kramer?

♪ You're lookin' like
a slob... ♪

What are the chances?

I said to everyone that Eddie Kramer
supposed to be coming.

Yeah, right, sure,
Eddie Kramer's coming to Detroit.

Yeah, right, sure.

Well, lo and behold,
it's raining that night,

there's 100 people in the room.

Eddie Kramer comes in.

Sees the band, loves it, says,
"Let's do a production deal."

So this is our next thing.

We're gonna sign
with Eddie Kramer,

we're gonna do songs,
we're gonna get into a studio,

we're gonna make a demo.

♪ Why don't you listen to
the music we're playing? ♪

♪ Go pick on somebody else... ♪

We didn't have big budgets
on this,

we had to quickly go in
and record these things

like "I'll Never Grow Up"
and "Under The Blade,"

and "Shoot 'Em Down."

We were with
Eddie Kramer. It was like a big deal.

Man, Eddie Kramer...

Wow, how huge is that, right?

And he's a dear friend,
and remains so to this day,

but he couldn't get us a deal.

He could not get us a deal.

We kinda came
to this conclusion

that if he can't get us
a deal,

let's at least press up
our own records

and put it out
on Twisted Sister Records.

And at least use them
for commercials on radio

and sell some-- something--
give them away--

just say we made a record.

We needed to have us and the word
"record" kinda being said together.

The reason we put out singles,

was to keep the excitement
about the band,

show the record companies

that we could release
something that sold.

Because our singles
sold out all the time.

We were amazed
at how many we'd sell.

And I don't think it still fazed
the record companies.

I don't think it fazed them at all.

On top of everything else,

I think we started
to suffer a drop-off

in our following
in some of the clubs.

We had gone and pushed
further out into other areas,

working extra hard in
some of the outlying areas

to build new markets,

and we let some of our
regular markets soften.

We needed something to take it
to the next summer.

And Dee said,
"Well, I have this new song

called 'Bad Boys Of Rock 'n' Roll'
and let's--

maybe we can have
the Bad Boys Summer of 1980."

This one's our new single,

gonna be in the stores
on June 4th--

called the "Bad Boys
Of Rock 'n' Roll!"

Dee threw down
the gauntlet and said,

"Let's focus in on making new costumes,
new stage set, new everything."

And we can focus in on
the next assault in the bars.

I do feel that
the "Bad Boys" was really

the solidification
of my creative control.

I was basically given
carte blanche,

and the band
accepted all my ideas,

and seemed to welcome them
and support them.

So we really rose
to the occasion.

We went up to a studio
in White Plains called Minot

and recorded "Bad Boys" single,

and Memorial Day weekend
we hit the mark,

took the ads out in the paper,
Twisted Sister Bad Boys 1980.

New stage set,
new clothes,

new songs,
new promotion and bang!

♪ Now us boys we're
annoying you ♪

♪ Well, we're sorry to be
in your way ♪

♪ You can't stand anything
we do ♪

♪ Well, what would you like
us to say? ♪

♪ We just want to enjoy
our lives ♪

♪ And have fun with
all that we do ♪

♪ We're just having a good
time, so let down your guard ♪

♪ And if you don't like it,
fuck you ♪

♪ We're the bad boys
of rock and roll ♪

♪ Mad boys out of control ♪

♪ Bad boys of rock and roll... ♪

So I think "Bad Boys" was
an attempt

to give everybody
something fresh to look at,

and something to motivate
everybody, including the band.

That's when
we became a record company,

merch company,
Twisted Incorporated.

Everything tied together,

'cause we couldn't rely
on anybody else,

and really rebuilt ourselves.

And that's where we really
started expanding-- posters--

Now Appearing!

Records in the stores,
radio spots,

everything you would expect
from a national act.

They were playing us on a
Thursday and doing the business,

and playing Staten Island
on a Friday

and doing the business,

and Queens or Jersey
on a Saturday

and doing the business.

I think they played,
if I'm not mistaken,

from Wednesday to Sunday.

And every night
it was the same thing,

they would do business.

Check this one out we're going
to do for you--

"Rock 'n Roll Saviors!"

The closing of Hammerheads
in Levittown

was actually the beginning

of rock destruction period
of Twisted Sister.

We show up at the club and
we're told the club is going

out of business that night--
that it's over, it's done.

They're gonna move
into another location

and that the club owners and
the landlord hate each other.

And the club owners
have told us

to tell our fans that
they can do whatever they want.

They hate the landlord.

They don't care,
destroy the room.

Take anything.
So our fans start taking.

What do they take?

They take the urinals.
They take the toilets.

They take the toilet stalls.
They take the fire alarm.

They take everything out of--

they're ripping the club
physically apart.

I remember the bathroom being--
the walls being leveled,

just coming out
and seeing water and a bowl,

and the sinks were gone.

I heard somebody's ear
was ripped off--

it was just pandemonium!

♪ We're the rock 'n' roll
saviors ♪

♪ Rock 'n' roll
we will defend ♪

And the last thing left,
at 4:00 in the morning,

is the air conditioning system.

And at 3:55,
someone reaches up

and pulls
the entire false ceiling down.

The entire air conditioning
system cracks.

The water pipe cracks.

The room fills with water.

We scream, "Get out!"

All I know
is that they stopped playing,

and I turned around

and the ceiling of the club
was basically on the floor.

How much did I break?

I was onstage playing,
I couldn't break anything.

I wanted to.

♪ But Disco is dead,
it was dead ♪

♪ Well, baby, it's dead ♪

♪ Dead, dead, dead... ♪

During the Bad Boys tour,
we had the opportunity to close,

or re-christen,
the 2001 Disco.

Uh, which was very significant,
very symbolic,

being the nightclub

that John Travolta danced
his legendary dance

in "Saturday Night Fever."

The club owner said,
"You have your fans come in

"and basically exorcize Disco
from our room

and turn it into a rock club."

Elmo, turn all the lights on!

This sign was
the original sign used

when they made all the posters
for "Saturday Night Fever!"

Let's give it the salute,
ladies and gentlemen!

It's time to ring out the old,
and bring in the new!

'Cause we got something
to say about that!

Sick motherfucker!

That's what we are!

Fuck "Saturday Night Fever!"

Now I ask to sing with us
like this-- everybody now!

That destruction of the club,

led to a phone call from another
club owner who said,

"I'm getting out of my contract.

I don't care, have your fans
come and destroy the room."

And he took out advertisements--
'Emmett's RIP-- Rest In Peace."

What are we? The destruc--
uh, we come in,

"Alright this is the last night,
take what you want!"

The fans dismantle that room.

2000 Disco?

Dismantle that room.

Soap Factory in Jersey--

which was the last one.

Does anybody want
to hear us play music?

To me that stuff
was schticky,

it was fun, it brought
people in, definitely.

But I knew it wasn't
the kind of thing

that was gonna make
Twisted Sister world famous.

It needed to be more about
the band, more about the music.

It needed to incorporate
these ideas and focus them.

The Sick Motherfucking
Friends of Twisted Sister

was officially developed
around the Bad Boys time,

with membership cards,
and a welcoming letter.

Our friends know that we refer
to our friends

as the Sick Motherfuckers,
you see?

That's because we're
sick motherfuckers.

So what we did is we started
an organization,

rather than calling it
the Twisted Sister Fan Club,

'cause that sounds like pussy shit,
you know what I'm saying?

I'm a Twisted Sister Fan, ooh!

That's bullshit.

We call it the Sick Motherfucking
Friends of Twisted Sister!

I gotta lot of grief
from people,

like you know, "You like them?!"

And I think the band turned that
to their advantage, you know?

You're one of us.
You're a dirtbag.

You're a biker. You're an S.M.F.,
you know. You're one of us!

And it banded people together.

I had a hatred
for all the kind of people

who would look down
at me with disdain.

I dealt with them
my whole life.

And discovered that there was
more of the "mes" in the world

than there was
of the cool people.

The whole S.M.F. thing is
about all these people

coming together
and finding each other...

and creating "cool"
where none exists.

If you wanna clap and shout,
clap and shout!

If you wanna jump up and down
and go out of your fuckin' mind,

go out of your fuckin' mind!

'Cause it doesn't fuckin'
matter!

It doesn't matter
what other people think,

the only thing
that fucking matters

is what you fucking think!

And if you like what you are,
fuck everybody!

The beautiful people.
The beautiful people,

the cool people,
and the together people,

they are the minority.

The majority of us are just
regular Joes and Janes.

And we're made to feel less
than everybody else--

not in Twisted Sister's world.

I would sit at home
and consider,

okay, I could go out
with my friends to a bar

in the area five miles away
and see some other band,

or drive 40 miles through
the snow to go see Sister,

you know,
at Emmett's down in Jamesburgh.

And for me
it was an easy decision.

Rain, snow, sleet, hail,
didn't matter.

We're just going!
We're getting in the car.

We got pot. We got beer money.
We got money to get in.

We're taking it to Detroit!

We've had cars break down.
We've had to leave cars there

and basically had
to pile seven people

in a Firebird
to drive home.

And it was still
well worth the trip.

Let's just say I would go
on average three nights a week.

Maybe four.

I remember a large part
of that audience coming

from Farmingdale, Long Island.

And Farmingdale, Long Island

is a good three and a half hours
away from the Final Exam.

I wouldn't go to Farmingdale.

Maybe to see Sinatra,
but that's about it.

And for a kid from Jersey there
was always this two-river rule.

I mean you would cross one river
into Manhattan,

but crossing two rivers
into Long Island,

that meant it was too far away.

And we'd go and get hammered
and come outside,

you know after the show,

and get in the car
and pass out

and in the morning
wake up and drive home.

A lot of times I'd get dropped
off right at work.

Basically wash my face,
work eight hours,

sleep a couple of hours and do
the whole thing over again.

You're laughing.
That's what we did.

If you like what we're doing,

show us you like what
we're doing, motherfucker!

Or if you don't want
to do that,

you can turn around,
get off your fucking ass,

and get the fuck outta here,

and go someplace else
where you'll be more appreciated

'cause we couldn't give
two shits about you!

I started becoming the angry
guy, that was my thing on stage.

Jay Jay was the storyteller,

the sort of laid back kind
of guy, you know.

But I was the one who was
getting angry with the audience,

and yelling at the audience,

and tearing people apart
in the audience.

♪ He spent his life
a silent sentinel ♪

♪ For all to fear ♪

♪ He walks, he talks,
he thinks, he feels ♪

♪ But no one dare go near ♪

♪ He takes in all he sees ♪

♪ Nothing escapes his gaze ♪

♪ And when he strikes ♪

♪ He strikes for right,
a glorious sight ♪

♪ Destroyer, destroyer,
he's in town... ♪

I equated Jay Jay
with being a preacher.

He could get people crying
and screaming.

He had a gift of gab.

He was like a preacher.

Dee wasn't so much
like a preacher,

Dee was like a devil.

You know. If you didn't,
he would kill you.

He used to pick on people that
would stand there, you know,

"Oh I'm not going to get into
Twisted Sister. I'm too cool."

That was it.

Dee put his sights
on those people

and we turned the lights on them
and they got torn to pieces.

If you were that one guy
who was just standing there.

- He got you.
- Yeah.

- Definitely got you.
- We were very diligent

that we were going out
of-our-minds crazy at all times.

So Dee didn't catch us yawning,
or like not going crazy once.

If he looked our direction,
we were like whaa!

♪ A day will come ♪

♪ You'll be drawn into
the center of your town ♪

"Yeah, you back there!

I wanna see you putting
your hands together!"

And if they didn't
respond favorably,

then Dee would invite the rest
of the audience

to admonish them,
by turning around,

face that guy
in the back of the room there,

and at the count of three
we want you to scream,

"Get the fuck out!"

"Get the fuck out!
Get the-- and you'd be--

The sound would be deafening.

"Get the fuck out! Get the--"

These people would literally--
you'd see them start to crawl into a corner

because now everybody's
looking at them,

the band
is making fun of them,

I mean after three
or four minutes of it

they would just be crushed.

You better stay out
of it's fuckin' way.

It's gonna kick your ass.

Yeah!

I was getting everybody

in a place to react
by threatening them.

But they were afraid,

not just of me,
but of the people around them.

That if you didn't respond,

that this very intense crowd
might turn on them.

Sort of a "Day Of The Locust"
kinda moment.

So people in the audience,

though I was getting
100% participation,

their hearts weren't
truly in it.

They were just scared.

You had the Mad Hatter
in Stonybrook.

You had Hammerheads
in Levittown.

You had Gemini
in Yorktown Heights.

Then the next level
above that was your Speaks.

Speaks was the pinnacle 'cause
it held 2,000 people.

And you'd start doing that.

When the new Hammerheads opened,
the hierarchy of rooms

was as follows--
Long Island Hammerheads II,

3,300 people.

Glen Island Casino,
3,300 people.

And then as much
as the Soap Factory could hold,

2,500 on multiple floors,

the big daddy
was the Fountain Casino.

5,000 people.

If you could headline
these rooms,

you were the biggest bands.

So by 1981
we had finally reached our goal,

and not only were we headlining
each of them,

we were outdrawing
everybody else.

We were the number one draw
at the Fountain.

We were the number one draw
at Glen Island.

We were the number one draw
at Hammerheads.

And where did that leave us?

If we didn't get out,
we were gonna die.

The bands in this particular
market were making so much money

that it was very difficult for
them to even try to branch out,

say go to California,
go to L.A.

There was no point--
they'd go to L.A.

They'd probably have
to pay to play.

Where in this market
they were making three,

five, seven thousand dollars
a night.

Twisted was making ten thousand
in some places.

It was insane!

You could make so much money--
in some cases-- on this circuit,

that a lot of people viewed it
as succeeding on this circuit

was an end to itself.

I'd have to call it
the "velvet noose."

Where, you know,

it would be very comfortable
but you'd still hang at the end.

You could definitely fall into a situation

where this is never gonna end,
you know?

I mean who would have
sat down at a table

and said, what if
the drinking age changes?

'Cause for me
that's what happened.

That killed it. I mean,
when the drinking age came in,

then you had the younger kids
that might have been into it,

they couldn't go
to the clubs anymore.

I know that the chunk of people,
right, from 18 to 21,

I can't imagine how many

that is in a three-year span
that cannot come to a nightclub,

cannot go into a bar,
cannot go into a liquor store.

I was born and raised
in Brooklyn,

like I said before,
so I was always 18.

And at 18 that means you were
drinking at 16.

So the rock scene started to die
a little bit. It started to die.

And the clubs couldn't afford
the bands

like Twisted Sister
or Zebra or Rat Race,

but they needed those bands.

Because they couldn't survive
without them.

We would sit down
and book for six months.

And we would say
give us Twisted

every six weeks 'cause we need
to pay the rent.

So we knew
that Twisted was in there,

you would have a packed night,
the registers are gonna ring,

and you're gonna pay
the rent from them!

The money we made

was put back consistently
into the gear, into demos,

and into advertising.

And the advertising part

I cannot discount
because the advertising part

is what gave the world the idea

that Twisted Sister
was everywhere.

♪ You're cornered
in the alley way ♪

♪ You know you're all alone ♪

♪ You know it's gonna
end this way ♪

♪ The chill goes
to the bone ♪

♪ Now here it comes
that glistening light ♪

♪ It goes into your side ♪

♪ Blackness comes,
Tonight's the night ♪

♪ Blade is gonna ride ♪

♪ 'Cause you're under
the blade, ohh ♪

♪ You're under the blade... ♪

We were at the media capital
of the world, New York City,

and we didn't have
a record deal.

But we could buy radio time.

Airplay, which is really what,
in those days,

completely drove everything
in the music business--

FM airplay--
was beyond our abilities.

So what we tried to do to fill
the hole was create hits.

So what did we do?

We started buying air time
with the clubs.

We would buy 30, 40, 50-- 30-second
or one-minute spots on a weekend,

So what do you get
for your 30 bucks a minute?

Well you can write
a really cute spot,

or you can take
your own music and play it

for the entire minute
and just tag the beginning

and the end of the commercial

with Twisted Sister playing Speaks,

and it sounds like Twisted Sister's
song is on the radio.

So a lot of people
thought that our songs

were being played on the radio
when in fact in was just

the constant drumbeat
of commercials.

And everybody heard
these commercials.

When Twisted would,
say, you know, would've played

"Bad Boys of Rock 'n' Roll"--
whatever it may be,

the song they played--
people would go crazy

because it was like a cover song
that they heard on the radio.

And they did hear
it on the radio!

We were the poster children
for the unsignable act.

And people would say all kinds
of derogatory things

about us based on the circuit
that we played,

without ever having seen us.

It was tough getting a deal.

You know the labels that
we wanted weren't as interested.

The labels that came
to the table,

were one's that--
you'd make a deal with,

you'd shake hands
and everything.

And then like you'd never hear
from them again.

Now we were lowering
our sights to indies.

I remember the Handshake deal.
When we got the contracts,

they were basically
indentured servitude.

Literally, the guy
took everything

and we would just like, uh,
some sort of salary.

And we had to say, "No."

There were things
floating around.

But the Hansa or Handshake deal
did not work out.

But the deal with this
German company, X, did.

And this guy loved our stuff
and we negotiated

an entire record deal with him.

A whole deal.
And in the spring of '81,

he was flying from L.A.
to New York back to Germany.

And we met him at the airport

and we handed
the final papers to him.

We gave him the new demos.

He handed us
the final contracts.

And we thought
this was our deal.

And then I get
a phone call the next day.

My lawyer said,
"Are you sitting down?"

"Yes, why?" He said, "Well
the record producer collapsed

on the plane flying to Germany.
He had a heart attack."

Deal's over. Bang.

Everybody says how hard
it is to get a deal now.

It's always been
hard to get a deal.

There's always been
some reason--

they're always been something
wrong with the economy.

This is the way the world is.

I mean, you know,
do you give up?

No. You don't give up.

You keep going till it happens.

Or you die trying.

Twisted Sister put out
the "I'll Never Grow Up" single.

Initially Joe Gerber would

sell them out
of the trunk of his car,

you know to local stores
in the Tri-State area,

where they played, where
they would get sold, at gigs.

And I was working for
Important Record Distributors.

And I thought
it was a good idea,

'cause I loved the band so much
to try to get the distributor

to sell them
outside the New York metro area.

So it was like, eh,
this rinky-dink single...

why are we messing?
Nobody cared.

So, working
for a record distributor

that dealt with import music,
it wasn't just records,

you'd get all the music papers--
"New Musical Express,"

"Sounds," "Melody Maker," which
were all weekly music papers.

"Sounds" was geared
a little more hard rock.

So I sent some singles over
to "Sounds" magazine,

wrote a little handwritten
letter, "This is the biggest,

greatest bar band
in New York.

Next superstar--"
whatever I wrote.

Lo and behold,
three or four weeks later,

Twisted Sister's in the chart.

Wow! This is great!

Next week,
they're on the chart again.

All of a sudden,
at the distributor,

we weren't selling the singles
to people in America,

but we were exporting
the singles--

started exporting them
to Europe, to Britain!

Because there was
a demand over there.

What you had in "Sounds,"

you had the personal playlists
of the writers,

which every week we'd pick three
songs that we were listening to.

And they might be three songs

that were actually released.

With me as often or not
it was a demo tape.

Or sometimes you'd even put
a track you'd seen live.

It wasn't scientific.
It was utterly populist.

We felt it was our way

of directly communicating
with the readers.

And there a lot of readers back
then, you know what I mean?

"Sounds" at the time was close
to a quarter of a million sales,

so the readership
was probably four times that.

So even if one in ten of them
took notice of the playlist,

that's still enough people to go
out and make something happen.

We get a phone call saying that
"Sounds" magazine in England,

has this playlist,

and one of the writers
has put "Under The Blade"

as his number one song
on his personal playlist.

In a real newspaper,

in a music paper
that's not a Long Island paper!

It's actually not
even an American paper!

It's an English paper!

They don't know us. They don't
know anything about us.

Nothing.

And we contact "Sounds"

and they send a writer,
Garry Bushell.

So I'd gone down
to some godforsaken hole in,

um, Westchester--
Westchester state.

And it was awesome!

Seeing Twisted Sister
and their audience,

in what we'd have called
a spit and sawdust pub,

like a rough, rough old club.

And they were
like proper wild people--

the audience--
they were really going for it.

Twisted Sister,
I mean they had the glam look,

but because they were
so big and so butch,

they looked
like dockers in drag.

They weren't like
pretty boys at all.

It was like Cinderella's ugly
sisters having a convention.

It was shocking!

And he writes
this unbelievable story

called "Sister Sledgehammer."

And, you know, talk about
wanting to get pulled off this iceberg--

this thing gets published
in '81,

I can't believe it,
what could possibly happen?

The next thing you hear is
that this label called Secret Records--

a punk label--
wants to sign the band.

Our manager tells us
he's flying in

to see us at
the Mid-Hudson Civic Center.

We're headlining and, um,
you know?

This is how cynical we are.

I said, the guy's plane'll
crash before it lands.

But even if it lands,

he'll die in a car crash
on the way up to the gig.

But even if he does get there,
the P.A. will fall on his head.

But even if we're great,

he will die on the ride back
to the airport.

But even if he lives,

he will die when the plane
crashes into the sea

when the I.R.A. bomb
blows it up.

I took my girlfriend, and we'd
been to a party the night before

and we hadn't slept.

And we caught a redeye
out there and didn't sleep.

And we got there
and we were just a mess.

And uh, Mark picked us up
and, uh,

with all the best will
in the world,

Mark can talk Olympic level.

And he just talked my ear off
all the way out to Poughkeepsie.

And Poughkeepsie--

I'd never even heard
of Poughkeepsie,

and it's in the middle
of nowhere

and there was thick snow.

I was just hallucinating,
I was so tired.

And, uh, we got there
and the venue was...huge.

I was kind of expecting
a small club.

And it was just like a big hall.

And we get in there and there
was a couple of thousand people.

And I'm thinking,
"This is crazy!"

This is a band who haven't
got a record deal,

how are they doing this?

And the reaction
from the kids was spectacular.

I mean they were just
going crazy.

So, uh, I looked across at my
girlfriend and she's loving it.

And I'm thinking,
"We can do something with this.

This is brilliant."

At the end of the show
I went backstage to see the band

and, uh, they were sitting
around a table.

And they'd got more money
on this table

than I'd ever seen in my life.

In cash, piles of it
from the merchandising.

And all the merchandising
had arrived in a big lorry,

and it was going
out completely empty,

I think there was a torn poster
in the bottom.

And, uh, and I'm looking
at this thinking,

"Crap! I'm never going to be
able to afford this band!"

And one of them
turned round and said,

"Hey man, you gotta sign us.
We're really cheap!"

So he shows up. He loves
the band. He says the band,

he wants to sign us.
We don't react at all.

We were just
sort of like, eh, okay.

It was like, you know,
I think Martin Hooker,

his name was, he was like,

"I just said
I want to sign the band."

And Mark Puma was like,

"Yeah, they've kinda heard
this a few times before.

"Don't worry,
they'll perk up

when they actually are
on the plane."

Come on, baby!

It's time to tear it loose!

♪ There ain't no way I'm gonna
wait for Saturday night ♪

♪ I worked all day, I slaved
away, I gotta set it right ♪

♪ Gonna hit the streets,
cruise around ♪

♪ I gotta find some action ♪

♪ Ain't gonna stop until I drop
or get some satisfaction ♪

Unfortunately there were
some problems

with our drummer Tony Petrie,
and, uh...

he left the band.

He was asked to leave the band
in other words.

There was a lot of things kinda
leading up to it with violence,

just kinda like aggressive
and violent behavior, you know.

It was hard on everybody.

♪ Gonna tear it loose,
tear it loose ♪

We went through
a series of drummers.

We had Joey Brighton

and then we had Ritchie Teeter
fill in temporarily

till we found somebody.

Everybody that we tried
was competent, you know?

Good players, but it just--
for some reason-- wasn't gelling,

And then the minute
we tried A.J. Pero,

I knew instantly.

I looked at Dee and he looked at
me, and we went like, "Oh yeah!"

Everybody!

On the drums, A.J. Pero!

It was like I was
the missing link.

I was what they needed.
I was the power.

I was the extra charge,
you know?

Load 'em, boom!

We sign the deal.

We do our farewell concert
in the New York area in June.

Six years we've been working,

playing, busting our ass,

playing for every sick
motherfucker on Long Island,

New York, New Jersey,
Connecticut!

Working our balls off
to get us a record deal

so we could become
what we were meant to be--

the biggest, heaviest,

most kick-ass rock 'n' roll band
in the world!

And now the time has come.

This is our last performance
before we leave Friday night

to fly to England
to record our first album.

And you all made it possible,
that's right!

Making "Under The Blade"
for Secret Records in England.

We recorded it on a farm
down in southern England

in a small town called Battle.

We stayed in a 16th century hotel

that was haunted and recorded
most of the album in a barn.

Our baffles to keep the sound in
were bales of hay.

Okay? Chickens running around.

They say that when I played
my bass for that album,

the hens laid the most eggs
and the cows

gave the most milk
that they ever did.

It was good fun
just being away.

Sometimes when you're away
and recording,

that's all you're there to do.

So there's no distractions,

you know, you can't get a call
from home like,

"Listen, the faucet
broke can you come out and--"

Deal with it!

You know, deal with it.
Like, "Oh your brother hit me!"

You know like... I... you know,
it's like,

"I can't. I'm in England."

Motorhead was headlining
a festival in Wales,

the Wrexham Festival.

And we were down,
"From USA Twisted Sister."

And it was our first gig
east of the Hamptons.

And we were going on, I don't
know, probably about noon?

Beyond that, makeup bands
were completely out of vogue.

There was not just a resistance,
but there was hatred for glam bands.

And here's Twisted Sister--
full makeup.

KISS had taken their makeup off,
mind you, at this point.

This is-- nobody--
there is no Motley Crue.

This is Twisted Sister carrying
the torch for glitter rock...

going on before Motorhead,
one of the nastiest,

ugliest looking bands
in the world,

the joke would be
that you'd rather have

sex with the guys in their crowd
than the girls--

they were way prettier.

And that doesn't mean
they're pretty.

And they're tough.

And they're angry.

Uh, and we weren't really sure

how it was gonna go over all
of a sudden.

The band was terrified--
and...

to the point where there
was discussion

on taking the make-up
and costumes off.

And, uh, the guys wanted
to go on in street clothes.

And I said
"I am not doing this.

We have worn this
make-up and costumes

for seven years now,
six and a half years?"

I said, "We're through--
I've fought for this, we have...

I'm as scared as anyone
else but I'm not--

I didn't come this
far to back down."

I always joked that Lemmy knew
the smell of human excrement.

As he walked past
our dressing room door

he smelled people
shitting in their pants.

And he came in and said,
"I'll bring you on."

Nobody knew who we were.

And all of a sudden
we're on stage

and it was like
"Night Of The Living Dead."

I mean, people that were sitting
get up, and they're looking,

and they're walking
towards us like...

I swear you could see

the people's bottles going back
like this,

they were ready
to start throwing shit,

and Lemmy stepped out and said--

I'm translating, 'cause you
can't understand Lemmy,

but "These are some friends
of mine,

give them a listen.
From America, give them a listen."

And that just gave us
space enough

to go out there
and do what we did.

And we just
tore it the fuck up.

Blew everybody away.

It was one
of the great ovations of...

my life.

After we went off stage,

and we went back
into the dressing room,

which was a locker,

and ten minutes
after we were offstage,

someone said "Listen."

And you could hear the crowd

still chanting,
"Twisted... Sister...

Twisted... Sister...

Twisted..."

I gave up on the idea
of wanting to be a rockstar

around the time I heard
the first Van Halen record,

and decided I needed
to switch sides of the desk.

So I figured I needed
to find a band.

So I discovered Zebra
through a remarkable string

of synchronicities
and all sorts of other stuff.

And Randy Jackson,
who was the singer from Zebra,

says to me one day he goes,

"Flom, you gotta
see Twisted Sister."

He says, "They're the best
live band in the world.

We can't touch them,
nobody can."

So I said,
"Well, great I wanna see them."

He said, "Well we're opening
for them on Wednesday,

at the Mid-Hudson Civic Center
in Poughkeepsie."

The Mid-Hudson Civic Center
holds 3,000 people.

I was like, first of all it's
weird that Zebra's opening

when Zebra's signed
and Twisted Sister is not,

and second of all
that's a big place.

So I drove up there
on a Wednesday.

Zebra played,
polite applause.

And when Twisted Sister
took the stage,

these 3,000 people
were erupting.

And Dee gets up
onstage and he says,

"Alright you New York
motherfuckers!"

He says, "We just came back
from bloody fucking England

and we're sick and fucking
tired of hearing those limeys

telling us
how good we are!"

He says, "What do you New York
motherfuckers have to say?!"

And all 3,000 kids go,
"Twisted Fucking Sister!"

And I was like, that's it.
I'm done. I don't care.

That's it.
This is religion.

And it was.

And they played
and I just was out of my mind,

I couldn't wait to get
to the office the next day

to tell everybody
what I'd seen.

The reaction was,
"You need sleep."

And uh, I did, but...

"This band is a joke
and everybody

in the Industry knows
about them. They're idiots.

They dress in girls clothes
and it's not anything

you need to be
involving yourself with."

And my thought was, I should
go see them again tonight

at the Fountain Casino
in New Jersey,

which was almost two hours
in the other direction.

So sleep deprived
and probably pretty messed up,

I wound up down
at the Fountain Casino.

And it was the same thing.

And I just went,
this is as real as it can be!

The kids are giving
me the road map.

I loved it anyway,

I loved their music,
but I didn't care if I loved it

because I saw the excitement
with the kids.

And I went,
I can market this. This works.

There's no question about it.

So back I went to the office

to be met with
the same response.

And tepid would be
too nice of a word.

The response was,
"Get the fuck out of here!

We're not signing this.
It's shit!"

So it was part of the idea

to get them in front
of as many people as possible.

We managed to get them
on the Reading Festival,

which was the great gig for
rock bands in those days,

I mean you have 70 or 80,000
people in one hit.

Good evening!

Welcome to our show!

The Reading Festival was
legendary for the fans pelting.

People would throw stuff
at the bands.

This one's called
"Shoot 'Em Down!"

There was 40,000 people
at Reading.

There was 10,000 people
that liked you

and 30,000 that didn't.

So every band that went on

had their 10,000 and the 30,000
that didn't.

And they all had fruit.

You know it was
peaches and pears

and apples and bananas
and Kotex and bottles of piss!

And, I mean, not small bottles,
big fucking bottles!

And just enough cap,

so it went end over end
till it hit something, and bang!

There was just waves of stuff
coming over. And Dee says,

"Whoa! Stop, stop!"

Walked to the front and said...

There's some wimps
throwing things at us.

Pussies.

I was furious
at the stuff being thrown.

I was mad.
I was dead serious and I said.

All the people who wanna throw
something at Twisted Sister,

after the show,
meet us back there-- all of you,

I don't care-- and then you can
tell us we suck to our face.

You can try and throw something
at my face.

But don't be a wimp.

Don't throw something
and hit people

down here in the front, okay?

Just come on down!

We're ready!
Are you ready?!

And it completely changed
the whole thing.

There was no throwing after
that, people were cheering.

And they ended up
stealing the whole show.

I went over to the side
of the stage

to see if anybody-- just in case
anybody wanted to fight me.

So I went over and there was no.

Just fans,
"We're with you, Dee!"

Everyone was ready
for a dust-up but nobody--

nobody was--
there was no takers.

We had won the day.

So we're sitting back there
and just marveling

about the amount of stuff
that was thrown at the band.

We'd never experienced
that before.

We had this big Scottish guy
working for us and he goes like,

I can't believe that someone threw a shite!

And we go like--
Dee said what?

I can't believe
that someone threw a shite!

"A shite?"

He goes, "A shit! Somebody
threw a shit on the stage!"

As hate filled as I am,

could I actually pick up
a human shit and throw it?

And then,
where do you get it?

Did someone make it?
Is it yours?

Is it--
do you save it for later?

Do you buy it at the--
is there a shite stand,

you know, or a shit stand?

Can I have some shit I can hurl
at the band?

Steamy hot please,
with some chili on top.

I'm just trying to picture the--
what--

how this got to the point
to where it's actually on the stage.

But yes, somebody threw
human shit at the band.

That's-- that's-- you really
gotta hate a band to do that.

When we came back,
it was a triumphant return,

and, uh, played for I think
it was a couple of months

when we were
supposed to go back

and release the record there
and have a mini-tour.

We planned to bring them over
to do another big tour

and really get stuck in
with lots of consecutive dates

that would get
to a massive audience, and...

We'd just done a deal
with Virgin

so that distribution
was gonna be great.

We'd got a huge advance.

So there was a lot of money
in the bank ready to do it all.

Basically we come home,
and we take out more ads.

Twisted Sister Big Tour
of Europe.

Thank you so much.
Goodbye, New York.

It's been great,
blah blah blah.

And we say, "Farewell, Long Island.
Farewell, New Jersey.

Thank you for 10 amazing years.

We're off to see the wizard.

We're outta here.

Thank you, goodnight.

'Cause this is it!

We're goin'!

We're goin' to England.

And as you send us off
into the wild blue yonder,

let us know how you feel
about rock 'n' roll.

Now get ready!

Are you ready?

Are you ready?!

When we released the record

it went straight
into the national chart.

It was top 75 first week.

And to do that out of the box,
that's not easy.

And particularly for a metal
record in those days.

Get ready to leave
for Europe, September of '82.

And my lawyer calls me.

"You sitting down?"

"Yeah."

"Secret Records went bankrupt."

"You're kidding."

"No. The album came out

and the label went
bankrupt the next day."

It just disappeared overnight.

My partner disappeared
with the money,

and along with it went
my company.

And I was left with-- uh,

less than nothing and, uh,
the band were left with no tour.

So we can't play

because we've now
told everybody we're on tour.

So we can't play.

So we don't. We hide out in our
homes for, like, two months.

That was a long, cold winter.

Somewhere around
the 50th time

I was told to shut up
about Twisted Sister.

I was called into the office
of the president

of Atlantic Records,
Doug Morris.

I was told that
if I ever mentioned

the name Twisted Sister again,

I'd be fired from my job.

So this was a problem.

And so the solution
that I found was--

one day I saw a guy named
Phil Carson in the office.

I didn't know him, but I knew
he was a really important guy.

And, uh, he was from England,
from our English company.

And I thought maybe
he'll help me.

So I accosted him
in the hallway.

And I had a cassette made.

And I had a bunch
of handwritten sheets of paper,

'cause I didn't know how
to type.

And I said, "Phil you don't know
me, you gotta help me, man.

This is like,
this is the answer.

You gotta sign these guys."

And he hands me
this manilla envelope

and I put it in my bag.

And off I went to get
in my first class seat

and sip my first class champagne.

And after the flight took off
I thought,

"Oh I'll have a listen
to little Jason's tape."

And first of all I pull
out this handwritten memo

from Jason to me,

and it must have been on
12 pages of stenographer paper

with very small writing.

And I look at it, and I'm not
gonna wade through this.

And then I pull out the picture
of this band that he had.

And they were this group dressed
in women's clothing!

Oh, my God, you know?!

So I put the whole thing
in an air sick trash bag

and never listened to the tape
and threw it away.

There was no place left to go.

At this point, after taking it
this far for 10 years,

it had reached the end.

We had exhausted our markets
in the U.S.

We had created all this hype
in the U.K.

that we were about to not
be able to cash in on

and ruin our reputation there.

We were about to blow our
reputation on two continents.

And we're sitting there
freaking out going,

"What are we gonna do?
What the hell are we gonna do?"

And our manager said,
"You know what?

You laid this groundwork
in England.

You had this record deal with
Secret that didn't work out.

Maybe we can something
over in England."

Somehow the label,
before they went tits up,

had managed
to finagle an appearance for us

on a live television show
called "The Tube."

I don't remember there being
a major discussion

other than it was a unique
opportunity,

and we hope we can use it
to generate some interest to push us,

you know, to a get a new deal,
or something, you know?

We had nothing else.

We're stuck over here.
We've gotta get over there.

It's really-- it's the only thing
that makes sense.

But how do we do it?

We need money.

So we go to friends and family,
as much as we can,

and get a small amount,
but it's nowhere near enough.

And so Jay Jay and I go to--
I believe it was--

three clubs that we have very
good relationships with.

Tough guys, tough guys.

Some of whom were people who I think
had lent money, cash money before.

But not under these terms.

Under the "listen we'll give it
back to you

"if everything works right.
Otherwise we'll just--

we'll play a few dates
for you for free."

You know,
we were friends with them.

You know
after a while you're dealing

with somebody for,
you know, a couple of years--

we were friends with them.

They asked us
to lend them some money

to carry them over
and, uh, we helped them out.

We flew ourselves
over like in a cattle car.

It wasn't even coach.

There was first class,

business class, coach, and then
where you put the dogs.

That's where we were.

The week before Christmas
we finally make it to England

to do "The Tube"
on live British television.

Well, hello and good evening
to "The Tube."

This evening we're going
to be having a number of bands

who are guaranteed
to make your ears bleed.

It's us, Tigers of Pantang,
and Iggy Pop.

The only problem
is it's live television.

So like we don't have
enough else to worry about.

We only have 20 minutes
to get our point across,

and speaking of getting
our point across,

oh, by the way,
you can't curse.

So there goes
half Dee's vocabulary.

Out the door.

But what's the big deal?

It's only the most
important show we have

or will ever play
in the life of the band.

They look like women,
they play like men,

and they're the biggest
bunch of hellraisers

to come out of the States!

It's Twisted Sister!

Good evening!

Welcome to our show!

I was in the studio all day

and had concerts
on sale in America.

And I was making my calls,

and Phil Carson
from Atlantic Records was there.

And he was in the next office
doing the same thing.

So I asked what he was doing,
and he said,

"Well, I manage this group
called Twisted Sister,"

who I'd never heard of.

And I saw all these people
moving backwards and forwards

who were like seven feet tall
and I thought,

"Who the fuck are they?"

And then I realized, of course,
that they are Twisted Sister.

Which, you know,
didn't endear them to me,

I was quite serious
about my rock 'n' roll.

♪ What you don't know
sure can hurt you ♪

♪ What you can't see
makes you scream ♪

♪ What you don't know
sure can hurt you ♪

♪ What you don't have is what
you dream, what you dream ♪

♪ Dream, dream, dream... ♪

Mark told me they had
a good following in America

and would I come and see them.

Good evening!

Welcome to "The Tube"
on Channel 4!

We are Twisted Sister!

I went down
and watched a bit of the set.

And I thought,
"Aw, they're not half bad."

Get your hands...

In the studio

there were definitely
some heavy metal fans there,

who were very reactive
and very responsive to the band.

But most of the room
was not responding.

And we had three songs.

And I had to reach the audience.

We got the whole front section
going here.

But I think the back section

and part of the balcony must be
on Quaaludes or something,

because they're all standing
there going, "Uh..."

Again, Twisted Sister always had
the attitude that, you know,

we didn't fight fair.

I don't think
that's good enough.

And I think the problem here
is that we need some help.

We gotta bring out
the artillery, you understand?

And we put in a call to Lemmy,
who is now our friend

and asked him if he would come
out and play with us

And he and Brian Robinson
were coming out.

Yes! It's Robbo!

Lemmy and Robbo from Motorhead!

Can we hear it for them?!

Come on now.
Let's hear it for them.

Ready let's go, come on!

Well, alright!

Come on let's hear it now!

The audience wasn't really
reacting that well.

Everybody wasn't getting
into it,

and if this audience,
in the room,

getting the full effect
of Twisted Sister

wasn't responding,
what would people

sitting in their comfy chairs
at home--

what was their reaction?

We got Twisted Sister
all the way from America.

We got Motorhead.

But it still seems
to be a problem.

We're still missing people
in the audience.

And that's where I talked,
again don't fight fair.

You can do something where
you can talk to the audience

and communicate your feelings.

But I think you people want
something else

before you give us what we need.

I think you got a little
hang-up, some of you people.

I think there are some people
out there

who can't take Twisted Sister,
because of the way we look.

That's the problem,
isn't it now?

And you just won't
listen to us,

you won't pay attention to us
out there, now will you?

No, you won't pay attention.

Because we got make up on,
that seems to be the problem.

So we gotta take the make
up off, now don't we?

I told my roadie,

I said, "Take my can
of makeup remover and a towel,

and have it on the side
of the stage, if I call for it."

I didn't talk to the band
about this, I didn't discuss it.

I just-- in the back of my mind,
had an idea.

Gimme that stuff.

Is that the problem, man?
I got too much make up on, man?

You can't take me seriously?

I'm not crazy enough for you?

Well now I ain't got
no make up on,

so now what are you going to do?

Now you gotta give yourself
to me, okay?

Don't let me down,

I did something for you.
It's Christmas time.

Give Twisted Sister
what they want!

And the place went nuts.

Aah!

Come on!

Thank you!

Robbo Robinson!

- And Lemmy!
- Twisted Sister-- alright!

So they destroyed the audience
and it was a breathtaking show.

So I turned to Mark. And I said,
"Alright, I'll sign them."

And he looked at me and said,
"To Atlantic?"

And I said, "Well that's
where I work, you know.

I'm gonna sign them
to Atlantic."

He didn't say another word.

And then he said, "Well come
back and meet the band."

I said, "Absolutely not."

Who wants to meet that lot?
"I said I'll sign them."

He said, "They're never going
to believe me!"

And he goes,
"Atlantic Records."

And I'm thinking, "There's
a thousand record labels!

The one label in which the quote
from the record company president was,

'The next person
that mentions this band!'"

I didn't want to say anything
because-- but I--

He walked out.

"We're fucked,
we're not gonna get signed!"

And the next day Phil Carson
comes in and he goes,

"So boys, I'm going to sign you
to Atlantic Records,

"but I have to tell you a very
interesting conversation I had.

Do you know this person
named Doug Morris?"

"Yeah."

I called in on the Tuesday
following the weekend

I'd seen Twisted Sister
and said,

"Oh I've got a new band,
I just signed a band.

It's the first time
I've signed an American band

but they happened to be over
and they were really good."

And Doug Morris said,
"What are they called?"

I said, "Twisted Sister."

At which point Doug is like,
"Are you fucking kidding me?!

They suck! They suck!

I don't want them on my label.
They suck!"

And Phil goes, "Sure they suck,
but you know they're

gonna sell a lot of records!"

We recorded
"You Can't Stop Rock 'n' Roll."

We had a hit record in the U.K.,
sold out tour,

we were on Top Of The Pops--
three times.

We did great.
Come back to the States.

Of course,
Atlantic Records U.S.--

zero support, nothing.

The record came out and
as you can imagine

it wasn't a big priority
for the label.

The, uh,
staff wasn't working it.

I was working it.

I was calling radio stations.

I was doing all sorts of things
I wasn't allowed to do.

But if it's not a priority
for the company, it's very hard.

We were chomping
at the bit to get out

and prove ourselves
to the world but, you know,

nobody wanted us
to go on tour with them.

So we go this tour opening up
for Krokus and Blackfoot.

29 minutes.

And we had no budget, you know.

And rented a Winnebago
and drove 56 hours.

56 hours out to Salt Lake City

and the Winnebago
then broke down.

And Mark got underneath it
and repaired it,

you know, like he would
in Long Island, right?

All to play 29 minutes.

But we were hell bent
on playing those 29 minutes.

I mean, that's what you do,
right?

Every town we went to
we made an impression.

Every town we went
to we sold records.

Every town we went to,
the local Atlantic rep

would call
the following Monday and go,

"Holy shit, I just saw
the future of rock 'n' roll.

Their name is Twisted Sister."

And the main office,
Doug Morris and company,

would have to hear
the dreaded "Twisted" word

over and over and over.

One day I was called
into the office of the president

of Atlantic Records,
Doug Morris,

and he said, "You know what?

This thing is--
this is the real thing."

And they're gonna
do a new record with Twisted.

They're gonna push
all the buttons

and pull out all the stops,

throw some money into this thing
and make it happen.

Doug Morris,
the head of Atlantic Records,

our nemesis--

who must have hated
having me, this piece of shit,

dirtbag, Dee Snider
in his office--

telling me what
they're going to do.

And I'm arguing with him
about the different moves

they want to make.

He had a whole bunch of ideas on
how to clean up Twisted Sister.

And I was arguing everything.

You know,
our fans, our fans, our fans.

And finally Doug has had it!

And he goes, "How many fans
do you think you have?"

So I do some math, you know,
we had sold 150,000 albums,

plus there was overseas,
so whatever it was,

I came up with the number
100,000-- 150,000-- 200,000.

And he said,
"What do you want?

Those same 200,000 fans
or the other 800,000 fans that

will give you
a platinum album?"

And here's this like
punky 20-something-year-old kid

at Atlantic Records
and looking at the president of,

you know,
this big important dude.

And I caved.

I said, "I want to have
a platinum record."

He said, "Well, shut up.
This is what you gotta do."

Of course in hindsight
I realize

the correct answer was,
"I want both."

You know,
there's a way of achieving both.

But I was really thrown
by that statement.

You know I never thought
in terms of millions.

But here was a guy,
here was a record label

and that's the only way
they did think.

They thought in terms of
500,000, a million,

two million,
you know?

We wound up selling three and a half
million "Stay Hungry" records in the U.S.

So, that was cool.

I always wondered
how the fans felt

when we finally broke through
and became that huge,

they must have felt
so vindicated.

Did the Donnas of the world
feel vindication

for their undying five-day-a-
week-travel-everywhere

Twisted Sister diehard support?

You know...
when you're so close to a band,

like literally feet away
from a band, and you sorta get,

I don't know, maybe it's
possessive about them?

And you have this feeling like,
um, you know that's gonna go.

So you're really, really, really
happy for them that they're

getting the success
that they deserve,

and be recognized, you know,

world wide for what they do here
in our little club.

But at the same time it
kinda tore out my heartstrings

because I was gonna lose them.

Good evening everybody!

We are... Twisted...

Fucking...

Sister!

Whoa! What is Twisted Sister
about then?

Well it's simple!

We're just about having a good time.

That's all!

We just like to have a good time!

We like to forget about work.
We like to forget about school.

We like to forget
about home problems.

We like to forget about everything

except for partying.

And we party hard.