Does the Noise in My Head Bother You?

ould get shot for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. One New Year’s Eve we were playing a gig there. The place was packed with bikers and local thugs. A great hairy biker chick came up to us and gave the band a nasty arm’s-length fuck you. “Hey,” I said, “I can see your string hangin’.” A gasp went up from the crowd in the bar, and right then I knew we were in serious fucking trouble. She was the girlfriend of the presid

Aerosmith got signed to Columbia Records in 1972 by Clive Davis for $125,000. We stayed up all night celebrating, but we knew that just getting a record contract wasn’t the be-all and end-all of our career. When we finally woke up and saw what was in it, the smell didn’t seem so sweet. The contract said we had to deliver two albums a year—which would be impossible on account of the fact that we were out on the road touring nonstop, fast and furious, to support the singles the radio stations were playing. That’s the way you did it.

Loose-hearted lady, sleepy was she Love for the devil brought her to me Seeds of a thousand drawn to her sin Seasons of Wither holding me in

going somewhere, so he got us to play this new club in Massachusetts for a month to hone our chops and build a buzz. Father Frank was a brilliant promoter and a visionary—he understood us—but he didn’t have the connections we needed to get a record contract, so he became partners with two guys from New York, David K

live as though heaven is here on Earth. Here I want to say something deep and meaningless, like “To thine own self be true,” but in truth, the first thing we have to do is KILL ALL THE LAWYERS.