Steven Tyler: The Biography

by Laura Jackson

  In April, ‘Kings and Queens’ became the second single released from the new album but it quickly stalled at number seventy. As summer approached, Aerosmith was swinging between extremes - playing in massive arenas, then performing in small intimate clubs, sometimes under assumed names. There was no hiding place, however, at either size of venue. On stage, Aerosmith had become shambolic. One of the worst examples of this was on 4 July, when the band took part in the Texxas World Music Festival, held at the Cottonbowl in Dallas. The mercury that day had hit well over one hundred degrees in the shade, and dehydrating music lovers were on the verge of hallucinating, though very few of them missed the disastrous state that Aerosmith was in.

  Tyler recalled: ‘It starts off, you have a great gig and you go out and buy a gram and you get fucking shit-faced that night. You go out next day and play. Then we started getting shit-faced before we played. Then we were shit-faced all the time.’ That particular day at the Cottonbowl, Steven was so drugged that he had to be physically carried to the wings and propelled out on stage, where he was barely able to move a muscle of his own accord. He was in a frighteningly desperate condition. Because of the cocaine consumed by the others, the music was played far too fast, making it an even more surreal experience for a frontman who was barely holding it together enough to stay standing upright.

  Twenty years later, when the band had cleaned up, viewing footage of this 1978 event proved painful. Tom Hamilton recalled: ‘Our music was the battered neglected child of that behaviour, and it’s pretty sickening.’ Tyler was losing his grip all round and he could not see it. He had arrived at the point of believing he could not function personally or professionally without drugs. He would get high and drunk to go out to a club or the cinema and the next day he would have absolutely no recollection of what he had been up to. It left him very vulnerable and it took him to new places. Years earlier, he had shoplifted food to keep himself and his bandmates from starving to death. Now, as a drug addict, he started thieving again. He has confessed: ‘After a while, I started stealing and stuff. You take drugs initially to be with the devil and to be creative and it works, for a while but then he [the devil] goes: “Now, I’m going to steal your soul.” And he does!’ He added: ‘Drugs raped my spirituality in the early days and I didn’t see that it was hurting me.’ In so many ways it was extremely sad for fans to see this unique frontman reducing himself to a shuffling wreck.

  At one concert on America’s west coast, the show had hardly warmed up when Steven decided that he had had enough of singing and promptly hunkered down on stage and began to tell rambling, unfunny jokes, for which he forgot the punch-lines. As the audience grew angry, Tyler’s bandmates tried to shunt him back on track by blasting into a song intro but Tyler would not be motivated. He ordered the music to stop, as he wanted to keep on telling jokes. It became quite mad. Lines of cocaine would be laid chopped out on top of amps at the back of the stage for people to have a swift snort between numbers. The tempo of Aerosmith shows often became either too fast or too slow, and the audiences really would have had to be as seriously stoned as their heroes to have a hope in hell of enjoying these spectacles.

  There were exceptions, nights when Steven and the band’s performance proved inspirational to future rock stars, among them British-born teenager Saul Hudson, who later became famous as lead guitarist Slash, in Guns N’ Roses. Said Slash: ‘My first Aerosmith concert was in 1978. They were playing at a festival. They were incredibly loud and I barely recognised a note but it was still the most bitchin’ thing I had ever seen. Anyone who sings needs to be exposed to Steven Tyler.’

  Drugs rightly take the blame for almost every aspect of Steven’s bizarre or excessive behaviour, but his natural impish-ness also played a part in a prank he pulled off that year when Aerosmith flew for the first time on a 747 jumbo passenger jet. Someone bet him that he would not have the guts to strip naked during the flight and run upstairs into the lounge deck. The money on offer was a few paltry dollars - it was a test of whether he would have the barefaced cheek to do it. And he did. The way Tyler tells it, he also did it almost without being nabbed, for after streaking along the lower deck and hiking upstairs into the lounge, he was on his way back to base before a startled stewardess had the dubious task of tackling him.

  It was the sort of daft antic more associated with one of the Beatles’ 1960s screwball comedies and, funnily enough, earlier that year Aerosmith had accepted the offer to play a small part in the Michael Schultz-directed film, Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Produced by Robert Stigwood for Universal Films and written by Henry Edwards, the movie, based on the Beatles album and set against small-town America, starred Peter Frampton, the Bee Gees, Alice Cooper and Earth, Wind and Fire, alongside actors Donald Pleasence, Frankie Howerd and Steve Martin. Aerosmith’s role was as the Future Villain Band, and they shot their scenes over three days in California. The film’s daily rushes showed up to an embarrassing degree that everyone in Aerosmith was drugged to the eyeballs on set, but Tyler maintained: ‘We liked making the movie. I guess it was in line with our image.’ When the movie was released that summer it was comprehensively slaughtered by the film critics and bombed at the box office.

  The Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band film soundtrack reached number five in America’s album chart and it included Aerosmith’s version of ‘Come Together’. Tyler was excited at recording with producer George Martin, and at the Wherehouse facility in Waltham, Massachussets, it took several takes to complete the session. In their fledgling days, Aerosmith had belted out the odd Beatles hit at gigs, so recording this song came naturally to them. Steven purposely did not dig out a copy of Abbey Road to study the Fab Four version of the 1969 number, preferring to perform the song for George Martin as he remembered it. According to Tyler, the man famously dubbed the fifth Beatle remarked upon the finished take: ‘Fucking great!’ Aerosmith released ‘Come Together’ which peaked in summer at number twenty-three.

  Gigs continued to be haphazard affairs. In early August, Aerosmith performed at Giants Stadium in New Jersey. By now, Steven’s extreme exhaustion had hollowed out features that were already accentuated by dark-ringed eyes. Tens of thousands of fans in this impressive arena gazed dismayed at revealing close-ups of the ravaged frontman shown on huge stage-mounted screens. Whether or not they were trying to tell him something, the missiles aimed at Tyler’s emaciated frame this time included unravelling toilet rolls.

  When Aerosmith staggered off tour, on 1 September 1978, Steven and Cyrinda got married in Sunapee, New Hampshire. For the non-denominational ceremony, held outdoors on a mountainside, Steven wore a cream suit, while his five-months pregnant bride chose patterned silk chiffon. They were surrounded by their families and friends and Steven’s bandmates, and the sun shone bakingly down. Tyler once flashed that he married Cyrinda because she and Elyssa Perry hated each other, but if that had been meant tongue-in-cheek, he did admit that he went into marriage with only half a mind to make it work. He knew, with his drug and drink addictions, that he was not ideal husband material. Steven was, though, excitedly anticipating the birth of what he believed to be his first child, although Liv by Bebe Buell was at that stage a fourteen-month-old toddler. Asked about his and Cyrinda’s expected child, Tyler said: ‘I guess I would like it to be a boy, but most important, I want it to be a healthy baby.’

  Within a month, the newly married Tyler was back out on the live circuit. Aerosmith quickly ran into controversy at a gig at a sports arena in Fort Wayne, Indiana, in early October, when dozens of fans were arrested for defying no-drinking and smoking rules. Aerosmith stepped in and paid bail money to release the teenagers from custody - a sum which ran into several thousand dollars.

  Tyler’s lack of sobriety continued to be a curse. More often now the singer had to be assisted not just to the wings, but right on stage. They tried to make it look like people were just messing about for a laugh, but on these occasions Tyler was literally unable to walk on his own two
feet to the microphone. Nor was it unheard of for him to be discovered dead to the world in his dressing room very close to show time. It was a nerve-racking business for those charged with the task of having frantically to find ways of stirring Steven awake and getting him compos mentis enough to at least try to get through a performance. Amazingly, if he did remain upright, some performances came off not too badly. Once Steven had rifled through the pockets stitched into the scarves tied to his mike stand for cocaine, one hit and he was off.

  It could have been cocaine-induced paranoia, but there were nights on stage when Steven would launch into ‘Dream On’ - a special song to him - and he would catch sight of Joe seemingly exchanging a look with Elyssa standing in the wings before bursting out laughing. Sensitively, Steven took this to mean that they were laughing at him; true or not, it hurt him very much.

  In late November, Aerosmith played Madison Square Garden, then returned to the stage at the Spectrum in Philadelphia, where last time an explosive device had injured Steven’s eye. At first it seemed that lightning would not strike twice, but the show had hardly warmed up when someone hurled a bottle from the crowd. It hit one of the sound monitors at the front of the stage and shattered, throwing splintered glass up like shrapnel. Brad Whitford recalled: ‘Pieces of glass literally went through Steven’s cheeks and into his mouth.’ Steven was bleeding profusely and once again the show had to be abandoned.

  That month, the last single from Draw the Line was released, but ‘Get It Up’ failed to measure up and did not chart. By now a double live set, Live! Bootleg, had been released, comprising sixteen songs recorded at Aerosmith concerts during 1977 and 1978. Steven knew full well that some fans were surreptitiously taping their performances and that several bootleg recordings were already in circulation. The title Live! Bootleg was meant to be ironic. The double album charted on Billboard at number thirteen, and Creem magazine reviewer Billy Altman declared: ‘What Live! Bootleg makes clear, as it highlights the best of their past work, is that Aerosmith really is one of the best hard rock bands the US has ever produced. I don’t think they set out to be an important group, had no great message to get across, no big causes to champion. They just want to be one hot rock band.’

  Tyler had scarcely caught his breath after surviving the latest stint on tour when Cyrinda went into labour. Charged with the task of getting his wife to the Mary Hitchcock Hospital in Hanover, New Hampshire, Steven drove there like a bat out of hell; on 22 December 1978, Cyrinda presented him with a baby girl. Steven found being at the birth an overwhelmingly moving experience. They named their newborn daughter Mia Abagale.

  By the end of the year, Aerosmith released the single, ‘Chip Away the Stone’. The band liked the number but it did not find favour with the fans and dropped anchor at number seventy-seven in February 1979. Two months later, they took part in yet another massively attended California music festival, this time held at the Memorial Coliseum in Los Angeles, along with acts including Van Halen, Cheap Trick and the Boomtown Rats. At this point Steven was thirty-one years old, a dollar millionaire who was in complete denial that he was risking his wealth, his health, his life even. Many in and around the music scene could see some metaphorical red flags flying. In the 1970s so far, the music world had witnessed the premature demise of Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Paul Kossoff, Elvis Presley and Keith Moon, among others. Young, talented and recklessly out of control, Steven Tyler right then fitted the profile and seemed ripe to become rock’s next tragic casualty.

  CHAPTER 7

  Crying Over Spilt Milk

  AFTER REHEARSING at the Wherehouse in Waltham, Massachusetts, in late spring 1979, Aerosmith headed to Media Sound Studio, New York, to start recording their next album. The pressure pot lid was already rattling when it quickly transpired that Tyler had failed to come up with any workable lyrics. They tried to motivate themselves but it felt as if a lead weight was on their shoulders, and the forced struggle to be creative caused increasing friction in the camp. On the other hand, it was easy for apathy to set in and so the slow progress practically ground to a complete halt. There were no incentives, and to top it all they were demoralised by looming financial problems and rising debts.

  The ructions erupting between Steven and Joe became more heated as summer approached. Said Tyler: ‘We got in each other’s face but we never came to blows. I guess because I’m Italian and he’s got Italian in him.’ Perry confessed that there was an invisible line that neither was prepared to cross, no matter how intense the confrontations became. That said, the lead guitarist recalled: ‘We certainly went head to head on a lot of occasions and stuff would fly around the room. We’d be like bull gorillas.’ Their drug consumption ensured that this volcanic state worsened as the weeks went by, what with feeling stale in the studio and zoning out at hotels. Verbal abuse was strangely less hurtful than refusal to speak to one another. Against this miserable backdrop Steven battled to come up with lyrics to lay over the tracks recorded in the studio, aware that he was the brake on anything happening, conscious that frustration all around him only added to his difficulties.

  Perry became so infuriated at doing next to nothing that he hightailed it off to Boston, where his thoughts turned to launching a solo career. On his way back to New York he suffered a seizure, blacked out and was rushed to hospital, where doctors were alarmed at his emaciated condition. Tyler, too, was fading virtually before everyone’s eyes. If inwardly he was aware that he was weak, at the same time he knew that the band needed to get out and earn some money. Production on the album had stalled, forcing the record company to bump back its release date, and now industry rumours were muttering that the album would never see the light of day. Continuing with their schedule of stadium appearances, Steven led the band out before tens of thousands at the JFK Stadium in Philadelphia before heading to Ohio to take part, on 28 July, in the World Series of Rock concerts held at the Municipal Stadium in Cleveland. Other bands on the bill included Journey, Ted Nugent and Thin Lizzy. For Aerosmith, it marked one of the most significant nights in their lives.

  The incredible tension afflicting the band members had been creating animosity among the men’s wives. Often the atmosphere was so strained that some women actively avoided being in the company of others; if thrown inescapably together, one wife might not breathe a word all night to another, and the potential to take serious exception to any perceived snub was enormous. Backstage at the Municipal Stadium matters boiled over when a row erupted between Terry Hamilton and Elyssa Perry. Verbally, the two strong-minded women gave as good as they got. Then Elyssa chucked a glass of milk over Terry and all hell broke loose. Steven’s wife, Cyrinda, later reduced this incident to nothing more than a playground spat, but the men could hear the noisy fracas, and when they came off stage the real fireworks began as Steven, Joe et al. got into one almighty rumpus.

  Although Tom Hamilton, Joey Kramer and Brad Whitford had their own deep feelings to express, the eye of the storm swiftly centred on the harsh vitriol trading back and forth between Steven and Joe. This was not just the sort of bear-baiting they had been doing on stage, niggling and pushing each other’s patience. This felt like all out war brewing. The fire had been smouldering for a long time and the set-to between the women had merely fanned the embers into flame. There had always been a chance that things would flare up one day. ‘We could feel the decline in ’79,’ said Joe. ‘We could feel what was going on but we’d been too wrapped up in our bullshit to do anything about it.’

  That night, they did do something - Joe Perry quit Aerosmith. Tyler later declared: ‘Drugs brought us to our knees and it made us break up. It made me say: “Fuck you, Joe,” over a glass of spilt milk! Can you believe it?’ From Perry’s perspective he felt that he had reached the end of his tether with the way things had become in the band. Despite the ferocity of their tempers, that night the guys surprisingly agreed to keep this momentous development a secret. Certainly rumours were already circulating about their delayed album, but
there was a touch of masculine pride at play here. The men, or some of them, were embarrassed at the thought of it coming out that this raucous rock band could shatter because of women squabbling and throwing a glass of milk. Within a couple of weeks, however, speculation began to surface that Aerosmith’s lead guitarist - Tyler’s Toxic Twin - had cut loose. In the circumstances, the band had had no option but to cancel the remainder of their live dates. This threw another log on the fire, and though music journalists were dished denials that a rift had occurred, it was said that Joe Perry was preparing to bring out a solo album. There was just too much grist not to set the millstones grinding.

  Behind closed doors, Joe’s departure threw up mixed emotions. Tom Hamilton admitted to harbouring relief. The terrible tension coiling around the band members and their respective wives had often produced unbearably stifling conditions, which the bass player felt had been alleviated by this bust-up. Hamilton maintained of Perry: ‘He was at odds with the rest of the band generally on how we should conduct ourselves. He’d been thinking about doing his own thing - at first within the context of the band, but then things got pretty heated.’ Steven battled with a kaleidoscope of feelings, none of which he could think through clearly due to the thickening fog of his drug addiction. In addition to heroin and cocaine Tyler now took opium, and was endlessly scraping up cash to be able to pay for his worsening habit.

  In the recording studio, with producer Gary Lyons, Steven worked at nailing six songs for the overdue album. The five numbers credited to Tyler and Perry were a disparate lot. ‘Three Mile Smile’ reflected the anxiety of the nation. On 31 March that year a potentially lethal build-up of hydrogen gas inside a reactor at the Three Mile Island nuclear power station in Pennsylvania had brought the threat of a nuclear disaster into very sharp focus. The song ‘Bone to Bone (Coney Island White Fish Boy)’ had somewhat less lofty connotations. Explaining to the bewildered that a Coney Island White Fish was a used condom, Tyler maintained that when he had lived near the Hudson River he had often spotted such things floating by on their way to the sea. ‘No Surprize’ saw Tyler tell the story of Aerosmith’s early beginnings, and the only solo Tyler composition was ‘Mia’, written for his little daughter. Three cover versions completed the nine tracks: one was an old blues number, ‘Reefer Head Woman’; ‘Think About It’ was written by Yardbirds’ Jim McCarty, Keith Relf and Jimmy Page; finally, and incongruously, ‘Remember (Walkin’ in the Sand)’ was a 1964 number five hit penned by George Morton for the Shangri-Las all girl group.