They were metal monsters fronted by a mental midget.The band was Journey and, for a short time, it was one of the hottest acts in the world.
I interviewed the band at a seedy hotel in Hollywood one day in the late 70s. Steve Perry had recently joined the group and "Wheel In The Sky" was getting a lot of airplay on the radio. The band was selling out fairly decent-sized hockey/basketball arenas and was well on its way to commercial success.
Now, I was not totally unfamiliar with Journey.
About four years earlier, my roommate Rod and I saw the band open for Emerson, Lake and Palmer at the Long Beach Arena, a fairly dumpy arena on the waterfront, not far from where drunken sailors would go for tattoos. The band was far from a commercial success at the time, but it was still a really tight little rock 'n' roll outfit.
At that time, organ player Gregg Rolie and guitarist Neal Schon, who had left Santana -- Rolie played with that band at Woodstock -- were joined by bass player Ross Vallory from the Steve Miller Band and drummer Aynsley Dunbar, who had worked with John Lennon and Frank Zappa.
It was a good little band, playing a lot of hippie/blues/rock stuff very well. Rolie handled the vocals, Schon, who a couple years before turned down an offer to be part of Eric Clapton's Derek and The Dominos band -- the outfit that recorded the incredible "Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs" -- proved that he learned his chops well playing side-by-side with Carlos, and Vallory was playing a pumping bass line, creating, with Dunbar, what I call an "in the pocket" rhythm section.
The song I remember most from that night was their version of "Taxman," done in a smoky, hemp-induced style that was certainly San Francisco influenced.
Next time I saw them, they were a brash, loud pop machine with a string of made-for-radio songs that were somewhat anthem-like.
The four guys I saw in 1974 -- Rolie, Schon, Vallory and Dunbar -- were still part of the band when I hooked up with them poolside at the dive in Hollywood. The fifth spoke in the wheel was an arrogant little shit named Steve Perry.
Perry had made a decent living singing commercials. He had just finished up a Toyota gig when he got the call to audition for Journey. The record company, you see, didn't think Rolie's voice was "commercial" enough and wanted something with a little more appeal. Nevermind that he was good enough to sing for Carlos Santana. For Christ's sake, that's him doing the lead vocals on "Black Magic Woman," a song written by Peter Green and recorded in 1968 by a very good Fleetwood Mac -- pre-Buckingham-Nicks when the band played some very challenging music before also opting for crossover pop dollars.
Perry, who had the penultimate overnight success story, refused to talk about his past, as if those in the business didn't know where he came from, where his roots were. He ignored questions about his history, was rude, arrogant and a genuine pain in the ass.
I remember, at the time, thinking that Dunbar, Rolie and Vallory were not particularly fond of the guy they were forced to play behind because of a decision made in an upper office at Columbia Records. Schon? Any reservations he had about the deal were hidden. Seemed as long as he got to pick up a guitar and play, he was happy.
The band went through the motions talking about their change in direction. Vallory and Rolie seemed the most pissed. I got the impression they looked at the band simply as a way to earn enough money, go home and do the kind of music they really wanted to do while Perry played the part of rock star.
We did theinterviews at the hotel and it was all sort of so-so. Then Schon and Dunbar invited me to hang with them the next day duringt their soundcheck and during the show at Long Beach.
Since I was reviewing the gig anyway I said, "Sure," and they hooked me up with my backstage pass.
Got there about the time the band did. Perry quickly went one way while the other guys went another. I was hanging out with Schon in the arena while Ronnie Montrose, an opening act, went through his sound check. He was playing some stuff that was definitely not metal. It was beautiful, serene, gorgeous music. He and his band had done a quick run-through of a song or two and his players split. Ronnie hung on the stage, hooked through his empty reel-to-reel tape player -- a technique that gave players extra tone boost in those days -- and picked some of the most beautiful, soft music I have ever heard to this day.
"It's like that every night," Schon said, admiring the music echoing through the empty arena.
It's very weird, you know, hanging with a band during its sound check. You never know what to expect. I've heard country guys do heavy metal; rockers do covers of some of their favorite songs; metal giants playing soft and tender tunes they pick out of the air.
Montrose finished, the sound guys got their levels on Journey and it was about a half an hour until the doors opened.
Dunbar sought me out and we chatted about the rock 'n' roll lifestyle.
"This guy wants to just make a lot of money," he said candidly about Perry. "Doesn't wanna spend a dime, it's a job to him, mate." Of course, Dunbar, like the others, had real gigs in their resume. I mean, you didn't play with Zappa and Lennon if you weren't the real deal, a musician's musician. Those guys were pros and they did not suffer fools gladly.
"So, what did you do with your first royalty check from the new album?" I asked him.
"Nothin' yet...maybe a Ferrari...I don't know," Dunbar said.
"Yeah...what's the use having it if you don't enjoy at least some of it?" I said.
I was told later that Schon and, particularly Dunbar, enjoyed hanging with me. In fact, a few months later, we had a birthday party for a dear friend and I invited Aynsley to what turned out to be a drunken lunch bash at Harry's All-American Grill, a rock 'n' roll hangout in Century City that Eddie Money and I nearly got thrown out of a couple seeks before. When they saw me and my buddy coming with Aynsley, they put us in a back room, away from the other diners. But, that's another story.
The band played a decent show that night. The songs were tight, they got their encores and the little teen-aged girls in the audience got all aflutter over Steve Perry.
Since then, the band has undergone many changes, including hiring Randy Jackson, now a judge for "American Idol," to play bass. Guys from The Babys wandered in and out of the band. Now, they've got some guy who they found doing Journey covers on youtube.
Sad, how a journey can become so misdirected.
