Whatever Tracii Guns believed he had going on, right after getting the boot from G N’ R, never panned out. After a few months of sitting around twiddling his thumbs, one afternoon he dropped by my house to tell me he formed a new band with Nickey Alexander. Tracii asked if he could use the name L.A. Guns, and if I would manage the group. I told him it was fine with me, but was no longer interested in being anyone’s manager. I always liked the affable, eccentric, funny, and talented drummer Nickey, as well as the hippie-punk vibe of his studio “Nickey’s Love Palace,” so I swung by to check out their new band, enjoy the jam, and have a few brews. Shortly after arrival, I met bass-playing Brit Mick Cripps, a very friendly, hip-looking, and instantly likeable guy. That evening, they were auditioning vocalists, and in walked Paul Black, the cool-funky, skinny, knobbie-kneed, long haired punk who happened to be one of my favorite local drummers. His unique jazzy-grooving-punk style was a big reason for my love of The Joneses.
I don’t know what Tracii told the guys, but everyone acted as if I were their manager. Yet I didn’t correct anyone before, during, or after. Within a few days, I was able to convince myself that Tracii had learned a lesson about loyalty and how to treat friends. Add to that, Tracii was talented and could be almost as likeable as he was persuasive. Figuring everyone deserved a second chance, I told him, “I’ll help you out however I can, but you don’t need a manager yet.”
Next thing I knew, we were having band meetings at my house, and I was booking some of their shows, as well as handling assorted band clerical tasks. I liked the guys but really didn’t think much of the new band. I preferred Paul Black far more as a drummer, mostly because I didn’t care for his voice. But with no skin in the game, all that mattered was his bandmates liked him.
I told him he should “Go to New York, make some money, have fun, and come back in time for the show.”
About two weeks before the band’s first show, Tracii sought my counsel about a gig offer in New York City recording with a Penthouse model bankrolled by her sugar daddy. I told him he should “Go to New York, make some money, have fun, and come back in time for the show.” No need to break up his brand-new band.
He agreed to do just that, and set a return date for two days before the reformed L.A. Guns’ very first show. While Tracii was on the East Coast, his gonorrhea-distributing girlfriend ended up staying at my place, and the night before Tracii’s scheduled return, she told me, “Tracii said he’s going to stay there, and he wants me to move to New York.”
His flight was due in L.A. by early evening, and theoretically I would have picked him up in time for one more rehearsal before the debut show. Instead, I called the rest of the group over for a pizza-lunch band meeting at my place. Then I told them Tracii wasn’t coming back. So when he called from New York about an hour after his plane’s scheduled departure and said, “I missed my flight,” he was undoubtedly shocked by his bandmates confronting his lies on speakerphone. We all took turns telling him how fucked he was, and that he could still make it back in time for the next night’s show.
Instead, Tracii lashed out and yelled, “You guys are idiots wasting your time. The L.A. scene is dead.” Not only did Tracii Guns form a band only to quit before even doing a show, he flaked hard and belittled his bandmates to boot.
Another startling discovery, Paul Black was a God damn cool motherfucker on stage.
I believe Mick was the one who suggested Robert Stoddard, cofounder of Dogs d’Amour, as a last-minute fill-in. Robert saved the band by learning the songs and playing the very next night, Halloween, opening for Detox at Trooper Hall on the east side of Hollywood. Something amazing happened – they were great. Robert’s vocal harmonies complimented Paul’s voice to the point of me changing my opinion of his talent one hundred eighty degrees. Another startling discovery, Paul Black was a God damn cool motherfucker on stage. I liked the show so much that afterward, I told them I’d be willing to help them any way I could. Suddenly, I cared about managing bands again, but only to ensure that Tracii never got his grubby hands on the name L.A. Guns.
