Array Slash - Slash

As pissed as I was to have been called home to do nothing, my responsible side kicked in and I was determined to get something out of it despite the fact that my heart was in my boots. I wasn’t sure what to expect from Zakk Wyld but I hoped for the best. He’s a great guy; I remember that I met him at the Sunset Marquis the night he got hired to be Ozzy’s guitar player years before. We hung out in his room celebrating until I left him passed out in the bathtub. Zakk’s personality is like Steven Adler’s times ten: he doesn’t mince words and isn’t scared of confrontation. I couldn’t see him and Axl lasting more than a week. But aside from that, when we jammed down at the Complex, it didn’t make any sense to me. It wasn’t the two-guitar-player team that GN’R really was. We were two lead-guitar players going at the songs on opposite sides of the stage and it was overbearing. I was used to working with and playing off of a more low-key rhythm player. If Zakk and I were to do this, it would be a whole new trip… more like Judas Priest or something. Even he felt that the concept was wrong.

“That was cool,” I told him after jamming for a bit. “It was different.”

“Listen, man,” he said. “That was all right. We could get this thing together, fuck it, that’s cool. But you and Axl have to get the fuckin’ band going, man. Get yourselves together and fucking get it going again.”

It was all about Axl wanting control to the point that the rest of us were strangled.

BY THEN ALL “BAND” DECISIONS WERE being made by Axl and Doug Goldstein. Duff and I and the other members were informed of what they’d decided by phone calls and faxes—Guns N’ Roses had officially become a dictatorship. The reality of what was happening was overwhelming; it was like quicksand. I couldn’t get any leverage in any direction to pull myself out of it. What we were supposed to be doing was simple: hire a new guitar player and make a new album. But the whole process was dictated by Axl, and although I know he wanted input from me, I was suffocated by the tension and I couldn’t think straight. I think at the end of the day it was a power struggle between him and me, with him wanting to control everything and me wanting to keep it more of a group effort. Oftentimes the public perception centered on Axl and me as the core of Guns N’ Roses, and I think Axl agreed, but the success GN’R had garnered up until that point was the result of five guys working together, where nobody was more important than anyone else as far as I was concerned. But that idea was becoming ancient history and it didn’t seem like there was anything I could do about it.

Even though I’d seen this coming for so long, when the reality stared me in the face, I still refused to believe that it was true. One of the things that had brought the five of us together in the first place was the fact that we would not be bossed around; based on that alone, we’d always had one another’s backs. Axl had always been a part of that team—at least in spirit when he wasn’t there in person. In our heart of hearts, even when he was being weird, the rest of us knew that he was part of the collective. Now, all of a sudden, he wasn’t. As much as we might have ignored it before this point, he’d made it pretty clear that we were “his” band and that he intended to tweak and torture us as he saw fit, and keep us at his beck and call. It seemed like he believed we’d welcome that opportunity.

For the time being, we all hung around, and in our ample downtime we all talked shit. It was so negative. After a while, I could barely show up because the animosity became crippling. We’d spend each night in the studio maybe writing music or jamming… most nights we’d sit around frustrated, waiting to see if Axl would show—which he did, usually after most of us had left for the night—all under the guise that we were writing music for the next Guns record. On top of it all, a new contract issue further disrupted an already volatile situation.

This time it was directed at Duff and me—the only two remaining original members of Guns N’ Roses. And it was very strategically presented: the contract stated that Axl would retain rights to the band name and was allowed to start a new band that he could call Guns N’ Roses. Of course Duff and I could be members… but only on his terms, which felt to us like we were being defined as hired hands. Axl had hired an attorney to push this through, so Duff and I did as well, and the three of them started haggling, having those attorney fests that do nothing but cost their clients money. Doug Goldstein was also there helping “facilitate” the whole thing.

That situation chipped away at the stone that is me; my patience, my dedication, my determination—all of it finally began to give way. It’s been the focus of so much speculation: What actually did Guns N’ Roses in? Was it artistic differences? Was it Slash’s ego? Was it Axl’s attitude? It was all about Axl wanting control to the point that the rest of us were strangled.

I didn’t really know what else to do after Axl sent a letter on August 31, 1995, saying that he was leaving the band and taking the name with him under the terms of the contract. After that we tried to put it back together. He pushed this contract issue on us with so much pressure to the point that Duff and I just gave in. We signed some document that we’d agreed to have put in escrow for a certain amount of time to see if we could work things out. But if we didn’t agree to put the terms into effect by a certain point, the contract would be null and void, so I signed it and let it go. I just wanted to move forward if we had anywhere left to go together.

Needless to say, my trust in Axl was gone. That entire contract situation was the antithesis of Guns N’ Roses in my mind. I was forced into a secondary role, while Axl was now officially at the helm if I officially let the escrowed contract become effective. One time he called me for a private meeting at his favorite Italian restaurant in Brentwood. I showed up and he wasn’t there, so I sat at the bar waiting for him. After he arrived, we moved and sat in the back in a dark booth as if we were in the Mafia. As far as I can remember, the meeting was basically an attempt to coerce me into accepting the arrangement he and his lawyers were pushing, but in a lot less heavy-handed manner. Axl treated the situation as if he and I were the two most important factors in this whole thing. He tried to convince me that it was all good, that it was something he and I were doing as partners.

At that point, he was trying to draw me into his world, to show me his version of things in his way, which is a very nice way, but I just didn’t go for it. I sat there and listened, not giving too much feedback. There was too much tension and too many unaddressed issues. It became increasingly obvious to me that there was nothing I was going to say that was going to change his mind. And he already knew how I felt. He and I continued this way until it all boiled over later.

It had become no fun. It had become depressing. It was almost amazing to me that this band had taken such a turn; we, the band, had allowed Axl the freedom, over all those years, to transform what we had into some morbid reality that existed only in his head.

There were another couple meetings like that in Doug Goldstein’s office. Then, of course, there were endless meetings with the attorneys going over and over this thing. It was exhausting. I couldn’t even understand what the fuck I was doing there. No matter what we might eventually put out as far as a record was concerned, none of this was worth it.

THE STONES WERE IN TOWN DURING this period; they were staying at the Sunset Marquis and recording at Don Was’s house, working on Bridges to Babylon . I went over and checked out a few sessions, and watching them work, watching them do their thing, made me feel even worse about my situation. They had a chemistry that encompassed all of their very distinct personalities but never lacked respect. Keith would roll in and pick on Ronnie relentlessly but Ronnie is such a nice, amiable guy that it was all okay. It had to be because Keith is pretty sinister and such a profound narcissist that he has to take it out on someone. He can’t take it out on Mick or Charlie… though he tries. They’re so resilient that it doesn’t work, so Ronnie gets it all. As Ronnie says, “Keith has these tyrannical moods.” But as harsh as it ever gets, it is all within the parameters of mutual respect.