Rock Brats

You turn on MTV to watch Tina Turner strut across the screen. Do images of Mom at home in the kitchen whipping up peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches pop into your head? Or you catch Frank Zappa on the news, turning surly and belligerent at questions that displease him. Can you imagine walking up to him and asking, "Hey, Pop, OK if I borrow the keys to the station wagon?"

Rock 'n' roll has always been a quick escape from--and sometimes for--the Ward and June Cleavers of the world, a temporary respite from adult responsibilities and a favorite way to fantasize about life close to, if not on, the edge. And yet some of those performers we watch on stage--the ones who define the term fast lane--are parents themselves. Just like our moms and dads. Just like some of us.

We're not talking about the occasional unlucky loser of a paternity suit, either. We're talking about grown-up men and women who have tried to have the best of two often mutually exclusive worlds--rock music and parenthood. And, as the children of such people will tell you, it's not an easy balancing act. We asked 14 kids of famous music-world figures what it was like to grow up with a back stage instead of a back yard, to have parents who were paid to act like teenagers.

Craig turner, 28, son of Tina Turner: I was never very musically inclined; I was into sports. I loved listening to music, but I never got into playing. My idols were Jimi Hendrix, Bill Withers and, of course, Ike and Tina Turner. I was always into the soulful sound, but I never went to concerts when I was young except my parents'.

My mother and stepfather were on the road ten months out of the year. We had a different housekeeper every year to take care of us. So when our parents weren't around, we had our own way. My parents weren't very strict. Normally, we would get a good whipping once a year. When my stepfather (continued on page 180)Rock Brats(continued from page 125) came home, it was either to spank us or to rest up for two days.

My mother was concerned about the usual things: having us eat the right food, making sure we ate together every day at the same time and making us watch our language. She talked regularly with our teachers.

When my mother and stepfather were going through their divorce in 1976, we all went our own ways. I went into the Navy for four years. My mother didn't want me to go in at all, but it was good for me. I had taken a lot of things for granted, because everything had been given to me. Now I'm a junior agent in the music department of Triad Artists and I'm training to be an agent. If worst comes to worst, I'll say, "Hi, my name is Craig Turner. My mother is Tina." That may open the door. But I'm reserved about that. I usually don't tell people who my mother is.

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China Kantner, 15, daughter of Grace Slick and Paul Kantner (The Jefferson Airplane and Jefferson Starship): My parents never named me god. There's absolutely no truth to that story at all. Here's what really happened:

My mom was in the hospital where she had just had me, and a real sugary-sweet nurse walked in and asked, "What did you decide to name your sweet little baby?"

My mom said, "We're naming it god--only we're spelling it with a small g to be humble." The nurse ran off and told Herb Caen, and he put it in his column. My mom was just joking. Lots of times, she's very sarcastic--more so when she was drinking than now--and blurts things out. Some people get the joke and some don't.

Until I was about four, I lived with my mom and dad. Then my mom left and married Skip Johnson. She and my dad had never been married, so there was no divorce. Since then, I've lived one week with my mom and one week with my dad.

Sometimes I got bored with all the rock concerts I went to while I was growing up. But it also felt exciting to see 12,000 people in the audience, happy and having a good time watching my parents. I always wanted real badly to do what they were doing. Even when I was seven, I would run on stage for encores and stuff. I've always wanted to sing or be in some phase of the business, like acting or modeling. In sixth and seventh grades, I was a Cyndi Lauper clone. Then, when I started noticing guys, I started thinking more about the way I looked and less about school-work, and my grades started dropping. When I got to high school, I was cutting classes and my grades dropped more. But this year, I'm a sophomore, and I think I've improved my attitude. I'm trying to get good grades.

I take after my mom more than my dad. I get my personality, my sarcastic humor, my swearing from my mom. I've got my mom's body.

Me and my mom are best friends. We even share clothes all the time and have the exact same taste. We get into big fights about once every six months--hardly ever. And I love her more than anything. We always go around together. But she also likes to be alone, reading and stuff. I can't sit still. I have the attention span of a gnat. So I sit and watch MTV 20 hours a day. I love MTV.

I don't have any idols, but I used to like Madonna. I still like her, but for about a year, in seventh grade, I worshiped her. Now I'm getting to the point where I want to be myself. But back then, I dressed like her and even won a Madonna look-alike contest at a shopping center. I did all the stupid Madonna moves, even rolling on the ground.

What about drugs? My mom told me she had fun in the Sixties and told me all about the dope thing. But she was never a hippie, even though people classified her as a hippie. She didn't make her own bread and she was always a real clean person. She did use a lot of drugs. But seeing her use drugs didn't affect me as much as knowing about all those people who died of overdoses--Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin. I want to sing and do something with my life. I don't care if other people do it. But I think drugs are stupid; they make me do stupid things.

For a time, I had hair down to my waist. Then I chopped it off on one side and shaved it so I could spike it. It's taking a long time to grow out. My mother didn't mind. There's no way in the world I could actually shock her. Let me ask her. [Pause while she confers with Grace Slick] She said I could shock her by getting straight A's.

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Moon Unit, 19, and Dweezil Zappa, 17, daughter and son of Frank Zappa.

Moon Unit: What were my parents doing when I was born? My father was either on or getting ready to go on a tour, and my mother was moving furniture. They were married 14 days before I was born. I thought that was pretty funny. Then there's my name--I'm told it was a tossup between that and Motor Head. I am only too grateful they went with Moon Unit. Luckily, I've got a sense of humor about the whole thing.

I don't remember the first time I saw my father perform. I just remember once that my dad's bodyguard came up and told us we couldn't sit on stage. Then he found out who we were and said it was OK. We always sat on boxes off to the side of the stage. Apparently, my first word was werp--that's the sound the music makes when it's going backward through the tape systems.

My musical education began at six, maybe younger, when I was forced to take piano lessons. I couldn't get into it, 'cause I have no patience. At nine, I wanted to play the harp, so my parents got me an Irish harp and I took lessons. That lasted about a year. I listened to anything I wanted to. I could go to any kind of musical concert I wanted to see. My father encouraged me to appreciate music of all kinds. He has an unbelievable record collection--R&B, classical, jazz, you name it.

We pretty much do our own thing in this house. Our family never sits together and eats dinner. Maybe for a couple of Thanksgivings we sat together for ten minutes. That family togetherness was something I sometimes wanted when I was going to high school. All my friends had very family-oriented families who were always doing things like taking whirlpool baths together. But if my family ever did that, it would be a disaster. My little brother would probably pee in the water--not because he had to but as a joke--and there would be a million arguments between Ahmet and Diva, the two younger kids. So it's probably a good thing we don't.

It would be pretty hard to shock my parents, believe me. Nothing would scare my parents except, probably, religion. If I became a born-again Christian, I would be disowned. Don't panic. I have no intention of becoming one.

What would scare them the second most would be if I had a date. I scare so many guys away that if they saw one stay more than ten or 15 minutes, it would probably put them into a frenzy.

I've always been pretty protective of Dweezil; but now our roles are reversed. He dates more than I do--not by my choice--and he's like an older brother would be. We've always been pretty close. He's probably my best friend.

My parents aren't real restrictive, but my father likes to meet all my friends and know what I'm up to. He wants to know that my values are not totally screwed up. He was excited to know, for instance, that I voted in the last election. He didn't really give me any resistance about quitting high school. I pretty much outgrew high school. I wasn't there for the social life. By then, I had started thinking about a career and my long-term goals.

If anything, my parents have encouraged all of us to be our own person, to do (continued on page 192)Rock Brats(continued from page 180) whatever we want to do, saying that it was important to be loved for who we are and that they hoped we would make the right decision and not take drugs.

I'm against drugs. To me, it's important to be in control. And there's no way I'm going to venture out into some uncharted part of my brain.

What kind of guy do I like? I don't go for any specific type. But a sense of humor is very important. And he should have nice hands and big feet. Yeah, my dad has all those things.

Dweezil: My first name is spelled with an I and not an E. How could you not know that? It's such a common name. I'm thinking of using middle initials just so people won't get me confused with all the other Dweezils in the universe. Yeah, Frank likes to create fun names. There are all sorts of stories about how I got mine. I heard I was named after my mom's baby toe, and she says that's true.

When I was a real little kid, I got teased not only because of my name but also because I had long hair. It was blond and curly, so my parents didn't want to cut it.

We never went places as a family. It's a good thing, because family vacations could be the worst torture you could go through. The younger kids fight nonstop. In a car, they'd drive you crazy.

In our family, we all do our own thing. We all eat dinner at different times. Everyone knows how to cook--even the six-year-old. We wouldn't have it any other way. I can't imagine what it would be like sitting down with everyone at six. When we watch TV, everyone watches a different channel. I like David Letterman and MTV.

My father and I sometimes have opposite musical tastes. He gets way out with weird harmonics that most people find hard to swallow. He's real percussive. I like a lot of guitar. I would love to play on a Madonna record with a heavy-metal guitar. I just played on Don Johnson's record--a number called The Last Sound Love Makes. It turned out real neat.

I've never had a reason to rebel. I don't find anything that offensive in my parents to rebel against. I try to stay out of trouble. I don't get myself involved in dangerous situations. I stay far away from drugs and alcohol. There's a very strong sense of that in the house. I don't even want to talk to anyone on drugs. I think taking drugs is an excuse to be an asshole.

When I was young, I don't remember meeting many people at the house. Jimi Hendrix came over once. But Dad is not a real social person. We get an allowance. It's like the house is an office and we have a payroll situation going on here. If we need money, we borrow it and write how much we took. Moon has her own bank account, but every once in a while, she has to borrow. She's going to have a rude awakening when she moves out.

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Darrin Medley, 21, son of Bill Medley (The Righteous Brothers): I was born right around the time my father and Bobby Hatfield recorded You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' with Phil Spector. My mom and dad were divorced and my mom was remarried. But she passed away when I was ten and I went to live with my father.

I grew up in Newport Beach. We had a house right on the beach. Then, when I was in junior high school, we moved inland, toward Anaheim, because my dad really didn't feel that the beach was a great place to raise a kid. When I was about three, I used to go to Vegas a lot with my father when he was playing at the Sands. It was a lot of fun, 'cause he'd always call me out on stage. I loved it. I remember once I was sitting on the side of the stage on a chair, waiting for a late show, and fell asleep. They couldn't wake me up, so they just brought the chair out on stage with me fast asleep in it.

I got my first drum set when I was five. And ever since I was 14, I've had my own band. Right now, I'm not in a band, 'cause I'm going to the University of Redlands, and that's really hard. I'm studying speech therapy. I want to be a speech pathologist and work with children who have speech disorders. I went up there to major in business; I ended up taking a speech class and really loving it.

I would also love to be a drummer, but I know it's real, real hard to make it. A lot of people can be decent. To be good takes hard work.

My father tries to encourage me. He's always been behind me, saying, "If you want to know how to do it, here's how." But I've always wanted to do it more my way and just play and have a good time.

I used to practice in our house. If I were my father, I would have gone crazy. He's up playing music all night and then comes home to his son playing in the house with his band. He used to joke on stage about how loud our music was, though. But, of course, when he started playing, his stuff was considered hard rock and too loud.

I never rebelled. Compared with other guys, I was pretty conservative. I had long hair for a while in high school; but then, everyone--even my father--had long hair then. When I was real young and living with my mother, I toured with my father. But when I moved in with him, he didn't tour as much, because he was raising me. He'd save his tours for summer. Moving in together was good for both of us. By that time, I needed a father figure. And it was really neat for him, too.

Bekka Bramlett, 18, daughter of Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett (Delaney and Bonnie, plus solo careers): My parents were divorced when I was about four, so I grew up with my dad and spent every weekend with my mom. My mom always treated me and my sisters like little adults and kept nothing from us. But when she got mad at us, we knew it. She didn't spank us, but she let us know in words how she felt--and that was sometimes worse. My dad, on the other hand, was really very strict. Now I can understand why. I've been around older people and musicians all my life--Eric Clapton and all these people. They treated me as part of the group, instead of as a little kid, though in some ways I still needed to be a kid. When I got to be around 16, my father became less strict, because he could tell I was growing up and he sort of trusted me.

No matter how protective your parents are, there is no way you're not going to see a lot of people doing drugs around you. That's just the way it is in music. What you do is up to you.

When I performed for the first time, my dad was in the audience, but my mom had to be at a Farm Aid concert. She was real upset she couldn't be there. But she had to explain to me that it won't always be possible for us to be at each other's concerts.

I always cry at my parents' performances. The first time I ever saw my mom before a big audience was at an Allman Brothers concert, and Cher and a bunch of people sang encores. I cried then. But I remember especially the Dorsey Burnette benefit where my parents got together and sang for the first time in about ten years. I cried so hard that when they put the spotlight on my sisters and me in the audience, my face was all red and swollen.

All the time I was growing up, I listened mostly to my mom and dad's music. I still do. I listen to the radio to find out what's going on. But if I'm alone, I turn on Delaney and Bonnie. That's my teaching music. It's like school. My parents have always been my musical idols.

All of the musicians I grew up around were nice to kids, but Eric Clapton was the nicest. First of all, I had a crush on him. I didn't have to scream to get his attention the way some kids have to with some adults. My mom and dad would say, "Don't ask Eric so many questions. You may be bothering him."

My mom always seemed young to me. She wore the hippest clothes. When all my friends' mothers were wearing mother clothes, she was wearing tight jeans and boots. Rock can keep you young. I can't picture my parents as grandmas and grandpas. My mom in polyester pants? That'll be the day!

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Matthew and Gunnar Nelson, 19, twin sons of the late Rick Nelson.

Matthew: I was about four years old the first time I saw my father perform--in Hawaii. It was a real nice show, too. We had all spent the day at the beach, and he played at the hotel that night. He loved what he was doing, because it's the only profession you would work at even if you weren't getting paid. And even when he was having his downs--when he was not musically active--my dad was learning. That's one thing I really admired.

When I was growing up, we all spent a lot of time together. Generally, we listened to all sorts of good music. My parents understood that a boy likes to experiment with a lot of different sounds and that music can get loud. They never complained, as long as we were reasonable. We didn't always agree on music, though. Not until I got older did I appreciate Bob Dylan. Dylan was just in town, and he said some nice things about my dad and sang Lonesome Town.

Many people don't realize that my father was one of the pioneers in country-rock. Megabands like the Eagles followed. Like a lot of kids, I grew up listening to all styles of music. But basically, my favorite has always been my dad's stuff. He taught me that there is no bigger high than taking an idea, putting it down on paper and then hearing the applause.

Gunnar: My father always seemed real young. I remember I couldn't understand why all my classmates' dads had gray hair and my father looked like he was in his 20s. I think it has something to do with being a performer--it keeps you young. He had a blast up there on the stage. I hope I look as good when I'm older.

I got my first drum set when I was four, and I've been playing it for 15 years now. There was never a question in my mind about whether or not I would be a musician. It's the same way with my brother. We've been playing L.A. clubs since we were 13. Two weeks before his last road trip, my father saw us play. He sneaked in back with sunglasses, so no one would recognize him. When we got home, he said he was so impressed. He had never gotten out to see us play that much before.

My brother and I are a great writing team. My father always told us it was important that an artist be able to write his own songs, because it's hard for a band that doesn't write its own material to get signed, since there are always other musicians who can play better.

Since my father died, there has been a dramatic turn in our song and lyric content. Matthew and I have had to grow up fast in the past few months.

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David Graham, 18, son of Bill Graham (owner of the Fillmore rock clubs, producer of Live Aid and various other major concerts): I grew up living half a year with my father in San Francisco and half a year in Pennsylvania with my mother, who is an artist. There was a dramatic difference between the two: Living with my mother gave me a wonderful balance I wouldn't have had living in that rock world full time. Still, I loved my times in San Francisco in my father's world.

My most vivid memory of a rock performance my father staged was the closing of Winterland, a hall in San Francisco, on New Year's Eve 1978. There were two acts on first, followed at midnight by the Grateful Dead. My father's company always does a big production at midnight, but this year he topped them all by flying over the audience on this huge replica of a marijuana joint that was suspended on wires. At midnight, the house lights were killed and the audience was in total darkness. Then there he was with the lights on him, tossing flowers over the audience. Exactly at midnight, thousands of balloons came down from the ceiling and the Dead started to play. I was ten years old. I've also been on lots of rock tours. For instance, in the summer of 1982, The Rolling Stones did their last tour, and I went on that. We were all over Europe--London, Paris, Bristol, Madrid, Munich. Keith Richards' son, Marlon, also went, so I had someone near my age to hang out with. We played a lot of cards.

The two bands I got to know best were the Dead and the Stones. In 1984, I went on tour with Dylan and Santana, playing basically the same venues we played with the Stones. I'm a very big fan of Dylan, especially his acoustic numbers, like Blow-in' in the Wind. But of all the bands my father worked with, I especially liked the Dead, because they're very nice people and always treated me well.

My father and I don't always agree on music. Sometimes I get into hard-rocking music, like Van Halen. He's a big fan of Latin music.

Most of my friends know who my father is. When big acts--such as Bruce Springsteen--come to town, everyone asks me if I can get them tickets. I don't like it, but you can't blame them for asking.

At one time, I thought of becoming a musician. When I was 11 or 12, I asked my father for an electric guitar, which he got for me. But being around Santana, and guitarists like Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck, I got discouraged quickly. I might want to do something different from my father just because music is what he does.

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Jason Bonham, 20, son of the late John Bonham (drummer for Led Zeppelin): When my parents married at 17 and had me the next year, we lived in a car trailer. When I was two, [Led Zeppelin vocalist] Robert Plant asked my father to join this great new band he had gotten together, because they needed a drummer. At first he said, "No, maybe not," because my mother didn't want him to join. She said, "Every time you join with Robert in something, it always ends up bad." They sent telegrams back and forth and finally he took them up on the offer.

When I got a little older, we moved out of the caravan and got an apartment. Then, a few years later, after Led Zeppelin had made a name, we moved to a house in another small village. I was about five and started school in the same village. At nine, I was asked to leave school. I sort of took over the classes. Some of the kids resented it. I was so outgoing and forward, the teachers couldn't cope. I was a bit of a lunatic. My mom used to take me into a clothes shop. I looked a bit different, because I had this long blond hair. Some shop assistant would say, "Isn't she cute." I'd scream, "I'm a boy, not a girl!" and knock all the clothes down. But when you're that age, you don't really realize you're different. At nine, I took up moto-cross. My father really got into it. He'd be up at 6:30 A.M., making sandwiches. He'd attach a towing trailer with my bike in back of his Rolls and off we'd go. I became quite good at it, and by the time I was 11, I'd won six championships.

By the time we moved into our first house, in Hagley, my father had started to make a lot of money. At one time, he had 14 cars--including two Bentleys, a Rolls, an XK 120, a Maserati, a few Jensens, Ferraris, a Rolls Corniche. It was a largish house on a farm with a back yard, barns, a cottage. We had about 60 acres. It was a very small village, and the house nearest to us was two miles away.

In England, Led Zeppelin was not a household name. The kids at school would say, "What's the name of your dad's group again?" Then Led Zeppelin played a concert here and the kids started to try to be friends.

I found out about my father's death while watching TV. My mom was downstairs. We both started screaming. I was about 14.

His death was just one of those things. He had had too much to drink; he hadn't eaten. Everyone does it. He just woke up, started feeling bad and choked.

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Otis Redding III, 23, son of the late Otis Redding: I wish I could say I knew my father, but he was buried on my fourth birthday. I couldn't even get real sorrowful, 'cause I was so young. I remember seeing him perform once in Rome, Georgia. He had his own airplane and I went with him to a gig when I was real small. My mom would get upset because I'd come home with one shoe or something missing. She'd say, "Otis, you know you can't take care of that kid while you're performing." But I always wanted to go.

It took my mom a long time to get over my father's death. After he died, she played his music around the house a lot. I couldn't really get into his music then. Not until I was around 13 did I realize he was something special. In fact, except for Marvin Gaye, I really didn't like music all that much when I was a kid.

Then, about eight years ago, my older brother Dexter, my cousin and I started our own group, the Reddings. We did several albums for CBS and now we're on PolyGram. We're not trying to be like my father, but that kind of music comes natural to us. Dexter sounds like my father when he sings certain songs.

My brother and cousin would say to me, "Why don't you sing lead off some of the songs?" I would say, "No, my name is Otis Redding, and when I sing, I have to be really good."

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Louise Goffin, 26, daughter of Carole King and songwriter Gerry Goffin: My father studied chemistry in college and wanted to write Broadway plays. My mother was going to be a schoolteacher. By the time I was born, they were co-writing songs. Yes, Little Eva was my baby sitter. We lived in West Orange, New Jersey, which was real suburbia. I have only sleepy little memories of my parents working together. [King and Goffin were divorced in the mid-Sixties.] I remember, for instance, being taken to an Aretha Franklin recording session. Then my sister and I moved to Los Angeles with my mom in 1968. I was about 11 when she made Tapestry. I vaguely remember hearing the songs played in the house. Suddenly, she was very famous, but it didn't really affect my life. People would just say, "Hello, I hear your mother is Carole King." If they said they'd heard my father was Gerry Goffin, I was more impressed, because it took a real music lover to know about his contributions.

My mom set a good example for me, because she was able to have both a career and a family, and she always put the family first. Now that I'm in the music business, it gives me hope that I can lead a normal life, have a family and still do what I like the most.

My most vivid memory of seeing my mom perform is when she opened for James Taylor. It was a very warm audience. In the Seventies, people really liked singer-songwriters. They actually listened to lyrics then. It's awesome seeing someone who can have thousands of people in a stadium tapping into the same feeling at the same time. It's something I have always longed to do.

My relationship with my parents was like any other teen-parent relationship. Most girls at 14 tend to rebel against their mothers and are daddy's girls. Still, I talked to my mother more than most teen girls do--not because she was in the pop world but because she was younger than most mothers. She's only 18 years older than I am.

My mother was a little lax with me. She did much better with the kids who came after my sister and me. She was stronger with them. The Sixties generation was a bit loose with kids. It was trendy to be free and open and let your kids in on everything back in those days. But it's a shame if children are exposed to too much too soon. They lose that innocence of discovery.

I never really chose a musical career, but I've never envisioned myself doing anything else. I wrote my first decent song when I was 16 and made my first album [Kid Blue] in 1979. Before that, I performed in high school talent shows. I was very young, but it was quite easy to get a record deal--well, not exactly easy, but the music business was enjoying an incredible wave of success. Of course, my mother and I have certain inherent vocal similarities--but the idea was not to sound like her at all but to establish an identity of my own.

There's a big difference in the way my parents respond to my work. My father really listens to the words, which I love. I've worked very hard to get him to say the lyrics are good, because he also has been very hard on me about them. [Long pause] In fact, I think it's a good idea not to play your songs for your parents. Music is not about getting your parents' approval.

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Zakstarkey, 21, son of Ringo Starr: I've been playing in pubs and clubs since I was 12 with different bands. When I was about ten, my dad showed me the basics of drumming and said, "If you want to carry on, do it on your own." The basics are quite easy--it took a couple of hours one afternoon--but it takes quite a few years to get it together properly. But I liked it right away. It was quite easy to relate to my father. He never complained about my musical choices. He's a musician. How can he disapprove of something he started in the first place?

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Rockwell (Kennedy Gordy), 22, Son of Motown Records founder Berry Gordy, Jr.: Having a big legend as a father meant all these security precautions, cameras and stuff all around the house. It also meant that my parents didn't let me out of sight, because maybe I'd be kidnaped. I was pretty sheltered, and I didn't like it. I was full of mischief, a rebel. Every chance I got, I tried to get away with something just to prove I could get beyond the security reach. I wanted to be like everyone else. I'd go to my friends' houses, and they would be normal houses. There was privacy. In my house, the guards had keys to every room. If I locked my door, it wouldn't do me any good, because someone had a key.

I was ten when I first sang in public. It was at a Diana Ross concert, and she was doing Reach Out and Touch (Somebody's Hand.) I was in the audience with my father. When she came to me with the mike, the crowd went crazy. Suzanne de Passe (now president of Motown Productions) said to my father, who is the chairman, "I think we should do an album with your son, give him a record deal. The crowd really loved him." But my dad said, "No, he has to finish school."

To finally get a record contract, I had to go through different channels without letting my father know about it. Well, first I went to him, put my cards on the table and said, "What do you think?"

He said, "I'm working with Michael; I've got Diana over here; I've got Stevie, I've got Smokey. Why would I bother with you? In fact, this situation is absurd--it's really hard for me not to laugh. Maybe you should be a comedian or something, like Richard Pryor." I had a band and stuff and wanted him to give me his approval. I think it's a father-son thing. He wanted me to stay little.

I learned a lot being around my father. All the time I was growing up, I'd hear him telling others what it takes. He'd say, "This song is OK, but you've got to have more of a hook--the hook has to be so melodic that you don't forget it." I wish he would take more control over my career. But he has done a lot. And I think he's building up for something really great.

"My first word was werp--the sound the music makes when it's going backward through the tape systems.'"

"No matter how protective your parents are, there is no way you're not going to see people doing drugs."