Bringing Metal To The Children: The Complete Berserker’s Guide to World Tour Domination
Zakk Wylde – the man, the guitar god, the legend – invites all who dare to follow onto the tour bus for tales of glory, debauchery and metal mayhem.Ever wondered what really goes on behind tour bus windows and backstage doors, or what inspiration fuels a mind-blowing metal display? The content of these pages will make you wish you never asked.Among deranged tales of onstage indecent exposure and booze-fuelled destruction, Zakk leads you on a Journey to Valhalla, where your metal awakening awaits. For the aspiring Metal Musician, you’ll be lucky enough to get Zakk’s exclusive tips on how not to make it in the music business, how to survive decades on tour with the Prince of Darkness, Ozzy Osbourne, as well as useful tips on how to set up a shooting range on a tour bus and survive the mosh pit.Aspire to reach new heights of metal mayhem. Get on the bus and get ready for the Metal ride of your life.
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To God and Jesus Christ for giving me life and for giving creation to the amazing cast of characters that make up the music business. Without them, life wouldn’t be as insane or as much fun as it is. I also should mention Vaseline lubricating jelly—without which my ass would never have healed from the relentless pounding, hammering, fisting, plowing, and gaping joys I received from said cast of characters.
ON THE COVER: The spiked wristband I’m wearing on the cover of this book was a gift for my thirty-ninth birthday from my good friend and Black Label brother Kerry King, a true Berzerker who also calls upon the OdinForce of Valhalla to forge the Metal for his band, Slayer.
General Black Label Society Warning
Chapter One: The Berzerkers of Asgard
Chapter Two: The Black Vatican
Chapter Four: No Shitting on the Bus
Chapter Five: Perils of Valhalla
Chapter Six: Pssst! Don’t Tell the Warden
From the Desk of John DeServio
About the Publisher
NOT A SINGLE SENSICAL WORD EXISTS IN THE CONTEXT OF THIS Volume, Nor were Any Good Judgments or Rational Decisions Executed in Its Production. This Book was Planned, Developed, Produced, and Submitted under the Complete, Utter, and Absolute Idiocy of the Authors. In Fact, This Book is So Completely Horrendous that any Physical Contact with its Pages may cause Vertigo, Memory Loss, Nausea, Vomiting, and Uncontrollable Evacuation of the Bowels. The Authors do not Recommend that you Attempt any of the Stunts in this Book, with the Exception of some of the Really Cool Ones. Lastly, no Animals were Fondled in the Making of this Book. I look forward to Performing my own Prostate Exams each day and I Thoroughly enjoy Fucking Slamming my Meat all by Myself. I don’t need no Stinking Fucking Animals. While this Book Offers Extensive Advice Intended for the Betterment of People’s Lives (Because that’s What I do), By No Means is it a Safe Alternative to Traditional Therapy. This Book will, However, Make your Penis Larger. If You don’t Have a Penis, it Will Still Make it Larger. And if your Wife has a Penis, it will Make hers Larger as Well.
I’VE BEEN IN SHOW BUSINESS FOR OVER TWENTY YEARS AND IN THAT time, between wrestling, music, writing books, and acting, I’ve met a lot of characters: freaks, geeks, sheiks, big jerks, young turks, Captain Kirks, Aussies, Ozzys, Fozzys, chicks, pricks, dicks, dicks with chicks, chicks with dicks, and everything in between. But I’ve never met anyone like Zakk Wylde. In a world infested with obnoxious egomaniacs, backstabbing charlatans, temperamental prima donnas (of which I confess I am one), world-class fakes, and all-around Grade-A Assholes, Zakk Wylde is real.
A real nice guy.
A real family man.
A real fan of music.
A real kick-ass guitar player.
And a real stinky son of a bitch.
Yeah, stinky! You want an example? One afternoon, following one of our notorious all-night drinking binges in New York City, I met up with Zakk and noticed he was wearing the exact same clothes he’d been wearing while throwing back cocktails the night before. His hair was a cross between Bozo the Clown’s and Dee Snider’s circa 1984, and good lord in heaven did he reek of alcohol and odors I’ve never smelled before or since.
“Great Caesar’s ghost, Zakk!” I bellowed in disgust. “Why don’t you take a shower?”
“Vikings didn’t have showers, brutha,” Zakk replied.
“Yeah, and Vikings didn’t travel in their own private tour buses and sleep in the Waldorf hotel either. Take a shower, ya fuckin’ scumbag!”
And therein lies the genius of Zakky. He is a stellar musician and one of the greatest guitar artists of any generation, a man who has written some of the most classic riffs and songs in Heavy Metal history. He is a talented vocalist with a style completely his own and a vastly underrated piano player who can make grown men weep with his emotional ballads. But he is also a guy who considers himself to be some sort of Nordic warrior and has no problem farting in public, bragging about his sexual prowess (but only with his Immortal Beloved, Barbaranne), using more cuss words than a fleet of soused sailors, and washing that confused mess he calls his hair at best once a week, probably much less.
As I said, Zakk is real.
Really funny.
Really genuine.
Really obsessed with James Hellwig.
Really respected by one Chris Jericho.
And now really sober.
Yeah, you read that right. Sober. Zakk is one of rock ’n’ roll’s last true characters and the tales of his drunkocity will live on in the annals of rock history forever. I should know; I was a part of many of them. But Zakk was getting near the end of his lifetime cocktail punch card, and instead of using it up taking a seat at the bar in God’s tavern with so many of his peers and heroes, Zakk chose to stop. Cold turkey. No therapy, no rehab, no Dr. Drew. He just stopped. And that’s what I respect most about my friend. He recognized the problem and eliminated it. And he’s a funnier, more talented, better man for it. I’m proud of him for that.
