Between a Heart and a Rock Place_ A Memoir Part 5

Even still, there was a lot of tension. Keith clearly had been forced to give Spyder the production credit and he was not happy about it. As a result, he did even less than he had on Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion. On that record he at least had a facade of involvement. This time he was much more blatant about checking out. His att.i.tude toward Spyder was basically, "You want to co-produce? Have fun, I'm outta here." In all honesty, we were glad. At least this time it was more up-front, and we knew how to react. Things ran much smoother in his absence.

The strange thing about recording this third alb.u.m, Precious Time, Precious Time, was that I felt little of the pressure I'd experienced during the making of was that I felt little of the pressure I'd experienced during the making of Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion. With Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion, I felt like I had to do something to top In the Heat of the Night In the Heat of the Night and "Heartbreaker." Now, even with the strength of and "Heartbreaker." Now, even with the strength of Crimes of Pa.s.sion, Crimes of Pa.s.sion, I felt easier about the whole process. I had a lot of faith in the routine and collaboration we'd established on the first two alb.u.ms, and now that Spyder's role in the process was clearly defined, things would move even more smoothly. Not to mention that the confidence that came from multiple successes was immeasurable. It wasn't that we were arrogant, but we finally trusted ourselves-no small thing in a business where instincts are usually the difference between a good record and a great one. I felt easier about the whole process. I had a lot of faith in the routine and collaboration we'd established on the first two alb.u.ms, and now that Spyder's role in the process was clearly defined, things would move even more smoothly. Not to mention that the confidence that came from multiple successes was immeasurable. It wasn't that we were arrogant, but we finally trusted ourselves-no small thing in a business where instincts are usually the difference between a good record and a great one.

From day one, it was evident that Spyder appreciated going into the process on equal footing instead of simply being the lifesaver. As usual, he busted his a.s.s in the studio. He was a perfectionist, sometimes recutting a song time and again before he was satisfied. The one time that Spyder's state of mind showed up on the alb.u.m was on the reggae-flavored song "It's a Tuff Life." Here's how he explained it: "I really didn't like the things that were going on in Southern California at the time. More of the same hollow excess that seemed to permeate every aspect of the record business. Reggae seemed to fit the lyric-You thought you'd move to Jamaica, so you packed your bags and headed south to get an even tan, But you didn't count on the rain But you didn't count on the rain."

I wrote more melodies on this alb.u.m. I was sometimes reluctant to go for the melody because Spyder was so good at it. However, with "Promises in the Dark," I put together the whole melody with the exception of the bridge, though I was so new to songwriting that I wasn't at all confident about my skills. I was also embarra.s.sed to write about anything personal; most of what I'd previously written was more observational. But this song was about our relations.h.i.+p. When I'd first written the lyrics, Spyder was working in the music room in our house, and I was so nervous to share them that I literally slipped them under the door and walked away. When I came back he told me how much he liked what I'd done, and we immediately began constructing the song. This became our writing process, with one of us beginning an idea and giving it to the other one, then stepping away so that the other could put all the ideas together to complete the song.

The end result was a record that was more contemplative, more reflective, than either of the first two. Some of the songs are very long-but it's been called a masterpiece of layered, explosive rock and roll. And while the label worried about the length of some songs, they primarily cared that they had a couple of strong radio songs. They found them in "Fire and Ice" and "Promises in the Dark."

The recording, though, had taken its toll. By the time we'd finished the record, we were ready to move from the house in Tarzana, but both of us were unhappy-not as much with each other as with the situation. For such a long time, I would have laughed at the idea of anything coming between Spyder and me. Then one day, in the middle of our tour, Spyder sat me down and when he started talking, his words froze me.

"I love you so much, and I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought we were going to make a family together." He paused just long enough for me to fear the words that would follow. "But you know what? It's just too hard. It's killing me."

"What are you saying?" I asked.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. But I can't do this anymore."

I tried to talk to him, but he was adamant. He was getting killed emotionally. He said that he wasn't coming with me when I moved, that we'd still stay close and we'd keep the band together. But he just had to separate himself from the relations.h.i.+p.

I couldn't believe that this was actually happening, and I had no idea how it had gotten to that point. I felt I had no choice but to go ahead and move. I bought a house in a gated community there in Tarzana, and in February of 1981 I moved in alone. I knew that we were meant to be together, but the situation had driven a wedge between us-a wedge that it didn't seem we could move past.

In a little over six months I'd hit just about every high and low imaginable. The euphoria of having a bestselling record was now tainted by my crumbling relations.h.i.+p. I was devastated-pushed to the brink of a nervous breakdown. This was the man I planned to spend the rest of my life with, to have my children with. We had it all planned. Now there was no plan. Except that we would make this band work.

When we were in Los Angeles, Spyder came over every night for dinner. We talked about music, about what the alb.u.m was doing. We talked about upcoming shows. We made small talk. But there was no outward display of emotion. It was like we were back to the beginning again, with every moment spent close to him my own private agony. The worst part was that instead of feeling like we were moving toward something, we were moving farther away, and I was unable to set things right. He was the person I knew I was supposed to be with. There was no doubt in my mind that without the drama of the music and the label, we would have been together. If we were both just punching clocks somewhere in the Midwest, everything would have been fine, but we weren't. As a result we couldn't be together, and we had no physical relations.h.i.+p. Neither of us wanted to be with anyone else, but we just couldn't be with each other.

Sitting alone at my kitchen table in Tarzana, I had no illusions about what had gone on here. They'd won this round. There had been many slights and signs of disrespect since I'd had that showcase three years earlier and signed on the dotted line, but I felt this one more acutely than anything that had come before. They'd hoped for a breakup all along, and now they finally had it.

PRECIOUS T TIME WAS SET WAS SET to release in late July 1981, right before we debuted on a new television concept, a game changer in the music industry. The first I heard about it was when Chrysalis approached us about shooting a live performance to be aired on a television channel that was to launch in August. It was called MTV. to release in late July 1981, right before we debuted on a new television concept, a game changer in the music industry. The first I heard about it was when Chrysalis approached us about shooting a live performance to be aired on a television channel that was to launch in August. It was called MTV.

"It's cutting-edge," they said. "You'll be one of the first bands on the air."

Be a guinea pig? Sure. I loved the idea.

It would be a performance video of the Rascals song we'd covered, called "You Better Run." It had been a hit when I was in junior high, and when I moved to New York, my friend Cynthia Zimmer, who had an extensive record collection, pulled it out one day when I was looking for cover songs to sing at Catch. I ended up working the song into my live show when I was trying to land a record deal. "You Better Run" was one of the tracks on Crimes of Pa.s.sion, Crimes of Pa.s.sion, even though we'd recorded it previously for the soundtrack to the movie even though we'd recorded it previously for the soundtrack to the movie Roadie Roadie. Keith Olsen had actually produced "You Better Run" as his trial run for the fiasco that would become the Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion sessions. Because everything had gone smoothly during that recording we'd agreed to have him on sessions. Because everything had gone smoothly during that recording we'd agreed to have him on Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion.

Because Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion was still going strong on the charts, we decided "You Better Run" would be a good cut to use for our debut video. Everyone in the band was incredibly excited to be a part of this new method of bringing music to the fans-everyone, that is, except for Spyder. This was uncharted territory, and he wasn't exactly on board. His skepticism came from his concern that having a visual rendition of a song would interfere with the listener's personal interpretation. His reservations were partly responsible for the look and content of the video. There was no artsy story line, no imagery that might take you away from the music. This was going to be just like a live performance-nothing more. was still going strong on the charts, we decided "You Better Run" would be a good cut to use for our debut video. Everyone in the band was incredibly excited to be a part of this new method of bringing music to the fans-everyone, that is, except for Spyder. This was uncharted territory, and he wasn't exactly on board. His skepticism came from his concern that having a visual rendition of a song would interfere with the listener's personal interpretation. His reservations were partly responsible for the look and content of the video. There was no artsy story line, no imagery that might take you away from the music. This was going to be just like a live performance-nothing more.

We weren't told what to expect from the video shoot, just that it would be shot near the docks in the warehouses of Manhattan's far West Side. There was no stylist, no wardrobe direction. So I just wore my own clothes: black pants and a striped s.h.i.+rt. All we really knew going in was that it hadn't been tried before and that it was supposed to be cool.

When we got to the docks, I was immediately impressed by how well they had it lit at night. The set itself wasn't really a set-just the barren, stripped-down corrugated metal of the warehouse with a corner where we were supposed to perform-but it was exactly what we were looking for, especially in light of Spyder's desire for this to be as true to our performance as possible. With no set dressing, no costumes, and no elaborate distractions, it was all about us and the music.

As we were getting ready, the director walked over to us. "We're going to turn a fan on you, and I want you to just do what you do. Just go go!"

That told me he didn't get what we did. I wasn't a freakin' runway model.

"What do you mean 'just go'?" I said. Just go? I don't just go. Just go? I don't just go.

"Well, you know, start posing and stuff."

I was horrified. This was new territory, and it was going to be on television. If this MTV thing was going to make us look foolish, then we'd have to take a walk. This guy didn't know us, didn't know our music, and almost certainly had never even seen us play. He didn't know that I was not someone who walked the catwalk and posed on command.

"No! No! No!" I shot back at him. "Here's the deal. We're gonna play and you are gonna film it. There's not going to be any blowing hair, and there's not going to be any posing posing."

The director agreed that we'd just play the song, which we did several times. Even though the director let us do our own thing, I still had a bad att.i.tude. In the end, that att.i.tude ended up helping me with my performance for the camera. It was the perfect visual for that song. I was p.i.s.sed and it showed in everything I did that night. My sneers were real. It was a complete accident, of course. I was so young and raw then, and I felt like we were on the verge of a big crash and burn. But I definitely had a times. Even though the director let us do our own thing, I still had a bad att.i.tude. In the end, that att.i.tude ended up helping me with my performance for the camera. It was the perfect visual for that song. I was p.i.s.sed and it showed in everything I did that night. My sneers were real. It was a complete accident, of course. I was so young and raw then, and I felt like we were on the verge of a big crash and burn. But I definitely had a f.u.c.k you f.u.c.k you look on my face. look on my face.

When MTV launched that August, we were the second video played on the inaugural day, right after the Buggles' "Video Killed the Radio Star." The Buggles were an all-male guitarless band, which made me the first woman and Spyder the first guitar player to appear on the network. That day, we were sitting in a hotel room in Oklahoma, where we were staying to play a festival called Rock-lahoma (I know...). Miraculously the hotel we were in had MTV. Someone joked that it was one of the five places in America that had actually signed up. We were lounging around when Newman called and told us to turn on the TV, and the entire band sat there and watched slack jawed as history was made.

Coming on the heels of the Buggles' video, ours made for quite the contrast. Whereas theirs was produced with effects and imagery that displayed the fantastical side of what a music video could be, ours was simple and straightforward. The grit and grime of the location where it was shot covered the TV screen, as did the fact that I was so p.i.s.sed off when we'd shot it. I gestured at the camera, pointing aggressively as I moved around the frame. It was high energy but it was a different energy from a live show. The dissolves between shots and elements showcased every aspect of the band. It was aggressive but contained. It was our performance but also something else entirely. I'd never seen anything like it.

I don't remember how many videos of other artists they played that day or that first week, but it seemed like they played us round the clock, every hour, twenty-four hours a day. They didn't have a full rotation of videos, and back then there were no game shows, no reality shows on the channel-only music videos. After a certain point, they ran out of options and would cycle back to us. "You Better Run" was inescapable.

In one week, our world changed. After Crimes of Pa.s.sion, Crimes of Pa.s.sion, I'd become much more recognizable, but it was nothing like what happened after MTV. To have a hit song on the radio was to have someone know your voice, your sound. To have a hit video was to have someone know your face. The semi-anonymity that we enjoyed was gone. We had officially arrived, and America had seen our faces-a lot. In the week that followed MTV's launch, I could no longer go to the grocery store or the movies, because I was swamped. People didn't simply look at me and think I looked familiar. They thought they knew me. It was great and awful, a blessing and a curse. There was no handbook on how to deal with that kind of stardom. Even musicians who'd hit it big on the radio never had to contend with their faces being everywhere literally overnight. I'd become much more recognizable, but it was nothing like what happened after MTV. To have a hit song on the radio was to have someone know your voice, your sound. To have a hit video was to have someone know your face. The semi-anonymity that we enjoyed was gone. We had officially arrived, and America had seen our faces-a lot. In the week that followed MTV's launch, I could no longer go to the grocery store or the movies, because I was swamped. People didn't simply look at me and think I looked familiar. They thought they knew me. It was great and awful, a blessing and a curse. There was no handbook on how to deal with that kind of stardom. Even musicians who'd hit it big on the radio never had to contend with their faces being everywhere literally overnight.

It was obvious that there had never been a promotional opportunity like this before in music. Even if you had great success, you could live a relatively quiet life because aside from touring and recording, the marketing options were so limited. MTV changed all that. Today, we take it for granted that video content is available anywhere you look-on the Web, on TV, on DVD. If you're an artist today, the ways that you can reach your fans without actually playing live for them are seemingly endless. But back then, communications were so archaic that this really was a revolution in how music was brought to the ma.s.ses. The timescale on music success was suddenly more immediate than it ever had been. I was living proof.

CHAPTER FIVE.

GETTING MARRIED-GETTING NERVOUS THE TIMING OF MTV' MTV'S debut could not have been better. The "You Better Run" video brought interest in us to a fever pitch and fueled the launch for debut could not have been better. The "You Better Run" video brought interest in us to a fever pitch and fueled the launch for Precious Time Precious Time. It also kept the focus on Crimes of Pa.s.sion, Crimes of Pa.s.sion, which had been going strong for almost a year and continued to sell about two hundred thousand copies a week. In all, which had been going strong for almost a year and continued to sell about two hundred thousand copies a week. In all, Crimes Crimes was on the Billboard chart for ninety-three consecutive weeks, eventually selling over five million copies in the U.S. alone. Despite this ma.s.sive success, it never got to number one, instead getting stuck in the number two spot on the was on the Billboard chart for ninety-three consecutive weeks, eventually selling over five million copies in the U.S. alone. Despite this ma.s.sive success, it never got to number one, instead getting stuck in the number two spot on the Billboard Billboard charts, right behind John Lennon and Yoko Ono's charts, right behind John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Double Fantasy Double Fantasy.

Although Crimes Crimes didn't reach the top spot, I'd made Chrysalis about $75 million and in the run-up to didn't reach the top spot, I'd made Chrysalis about $75 million and in the run-up to Precious Time, Precious Time, it was clear that I'd garnered more than enough clout to renegotiate my contract. After all the issues surrounding the marketing of it was clear that I'd garnered more than enough clout to renegotiate my contract. After all the issues surrounding the marketing of Crimes of Pa.s.sion, Crimes of Pa.s.sion, I knew that I had to get more control over my name and my image. I wanted the label to understand that I didn't like the confining role I was being given. Women had been rocking big since Janis Joplin-maybe there had been a lull in that of late, but we were still there doing our music. And we didn't need airbrushed posters and ads selling someone who didn't exist. I knew that I had to get more control over my name and my image. I wanted the label to understand that I didn't like the confining role I was being given. Women had been rocking big since Janis Joplin-maybe there had been a lull in that of late, but we were still there doing our music. And we didn't need airbrushed posters and ads selling someone who didn't exist.

There was definitely an old boys' club at work, and it was time to take a stand against the unlimited power the record company seemed to have over me. I wasn't becoming a crusader, though. I didn't think of it in political terms. Like any worker who's been pushed around by their boss, I felt that the label was holding too many cards. I was just like every other girl next door who wasn't getting the recognition she deserves. What was happening to me was happening to every other female in America. The only difference was that I was in a unique position to do something about it.

Before Precious Time Precious Time came out, Newman tackled the long-overdue renegotiation of my contract, but unfortunately my moment to take a stand ended up as more symbolic gesture than actual power s.h.i.+ft. For his part, Newman worked tirelessly on our behalf, but he was still trying to walk the fine line between doing his best for us and not ruining his relations.h.i.+p with the label. This impossible task overwhelmed him. While he'd learned a lot in his first couple of years on the job, he was still playing catch-up, and being in slightly over his head only made those tough negotiations even harder. came out, Newman tackled the long-overdue renegotiation of my contract, but unfortunately my moment to take a stand ended up as more symbolic gesture than actual power s.h.i.+ft. For his part, Newman worked tirelessly on our behalf, but he was still trying to walk the fine line between doing his best for us and not ruining his relations.h.i.+p with the label. This impossible task overwhelmed him. While he'd learned a lot in his first couple of years on the job, he was still playing catch-up, and being in slightly over his head only made those tough negotiations even harder.

Sometimes his efforts were aided by the handful of good apples at Chrysalis who wanted to help us. One executive named Linda Carhart knew that Newman hadn't managed a music act before and she put her job on the line many times by giving him advice on how to navigate the negotiations. Likewise, the president of the company, Sal Licata, was always trying to help us find compromises. Sal was in the difficult position of having to run the company and be a "Chrysalis guy" while also being fair and nonconfrontational. Sal adored Spyder and was often one of the few advocates for him at the label. As someone who loved the music business, Sal hated all the bulls.h.i.+t that went on as much as we did. He did his best to referee, but he had to answer to Terry Ellis and Chris, so there was only so much he could do.

In the end, my advance, payment schedule, and royalty percentages were increased, though not as much as they could have or should have been. While I got more control over song choice and artwork, I would have to "mutually" agree with the label on both of those points. In other words, I was still bound to their opinions. They couldn't make unilateral decisions, but then again, neither could I. The one thing we didn't gain any ground on was the suspension clause. They still retained the right to ask for a new alb.u.m every nine months-whether we were ready or not. Given our success, it felt like they were just throwing us a bone with these "more favorable" terms. I was confident that we could have demanded just about anything we wanted and gotten it. We were in the perfect position to put them to work for us, but for some reason, we didn't.

This relaxed att.i.tude toward the negotiations was frustrating. We didn't push for as much creative control as we could have, and I couldn't understand why we were taking such an accommodating approach. When I would press Newman and my attorney, Owen Epstein, they always had some elaborate explanation as to why we couldn't ask for more. I should have held my ground with my team and pressed the case, but I didn't. Back then, I could only see the situation as a confusing problem that I'd grown sick of. I was tired of fighting. Terry played hardball, and though Newman did the best he could, in retrospect I never should have acquiesced.

Still, heading into the release of Precious Time, Precious Time, there was no doubt that we'd made strides. The cus.h.i.+on of success that we'd earned was enough to make everyone relax a bit. Spyder was getting a production credit, and because of our negotiations, the there was no doubt that we'd made strides. The cus.h.i.+on of success that we'd earned was enough to make everyone relax a bit. Spyder was getting a production credit, and because of our negotiations, the Precious Time Precious Time cover did not elicit the same knock-down, drag-out fight. We weren't novices anymore; we had proven ourselves completely. I was being called the "reigning Queen of Rock and Roll." For the first time since cover did not elicit the same knock-down, drag-out fight. We weren't novices anymore; we had proven ourselves completely. I was being called the "reigning Queen of Rock and Roll." For the first time since In the Heat of the Night, In the Heat of the Night, we were all actually getting along. we were all actually getting along.

Of course, there were moments when the worst would come out and the blatant s.e.xism in the company would be readily apparent. Every few months, they held meetings with all of the execs to discuss strategy, marketing, and future alb.u.m plans with us. Not long before Precious Time Precious Time was released, we were at one of those meetings discussing ideas for a video-which song, who should direct, what the budget would be. It was a business discussion between eleven other people and me. Linda Carhart and I were the only females in the room, so I wasn't surprised when one of the marketing guys leaned across the table lasciviously and said, "What are you gonna was released, we were at one of those meetings discussing ideas for a video-which song, who should direct, what the budget would be. It was a business discussion between eleven other people and me. Linda Carhart and I were the only females in the room, so I wasn't surprised when one of the marketing guys leaned across the table lasciviously and said, "What are you gonna wear wear?" his voice lingering on the word "wear" as he licked his lips like a predatory animal. What was I going to What was I going to wear? We're in a business meeting talking about spending $350,000 on a promotional video and he wanted to know what I was gonna wear? wear? We're in a business meeting talking about spending $350,000 on a promotional video and he wanted to know what I was gonna wear?

It was the same s.h.i.+t I'd had to deal with from the beginning; the only thing that was different was me. Instead of reacting with a crazed, militant response, I gave them reserved indignation. For a few seconds, I sat there silently, quietly looking at all of them with disgust at their behavior. Collectively they all shrank and became sheepish and apologetic. I stood up, accepted their apology, said, "Thank you, gentlemen," and walked out. Meeting over.

It didn't just feel good, it felt amazing. Finally, after almost four years of putting up with that c.r.a.p, I was starting to take charge of my musical life. Not Newman, not my attorneys, not even Spyder-just me.

WHEN P PRECIOUS T TIME WAS WAS finally released, it caught on quickly, becoming number one in the U.S. finally released, it caught on quickly, becoming number one in the U.S. Billboard Billboard Top 200 chart and a Top 40 release in the UK. The first hit, "Fire and Ice," landed on the singles charts about the same time as the alb.u.m release. "Promises in the Dark" came out a couple of months later in October. That single, too, was a Top 40 hit. The reviews were great. The Top 200 chart and a Top 40 release in the UK. The first hit, "Fire and Ice," landed on the singles charts about the same time as the alb.u.m release. "Promises in the Dark" came out a couple of months later in October. That single, too, was a Top 40 hit. The reviews were great. The Los Angeles Times Los Angeles Times called it "layered, fiery rock," even saying that one of our longest cuts, "Evil Genius," with its four-saxophone horn section, was an "epic" recording. It was clear to reviewers and fans that with our highly charged arrangements we were finally coming into our own. called it "layered, fiery rock," even saying that one of our longest cuts, "Evil Genius," with its four-saxophone horn section, was an "epic" recording. It was clear to reviewers and fans that with our highly charged arrangements we were finally coming into our own.

Though only a few months had elapsed since our video for "You Better Run," we were all too aware that MTV's power and influence had grown exponentially. In that time, making videos had gone from a quirky, optional experiment to an essential part of a record release. Once the label knew what they wanted your first single to be, you had to plan and shoot the video that would accompany it. MTV was a force to be reckoned with and it could not be ignored.

We decided to do "Fire and Ice" and "Promises in the Dark" as performance videos. We rented a soundstage in North Hollywood and invited the members of the fan club, radio contest winners, and family and friends. With that crowd of people, we filmed a miniconcert. For the t.i.tle cut, we did a concept video that was a story about a rich girl who was a prisoner in her own life. (Sound familiar?) With our faces all over MTV and two hit records on the charts, we once again embarked on a tour, only this time, with me and Spyder broken up, things were much more complicated. Chrysalis's prediction came true: we made the tour a nightmare for the rest of the band. We argued, fought, and acted nothing like our old selves. It was like we were two different people. Even today Myron refers to that tour in support of Precious Time Precious Time as the "h.e.l.l Is for Us" tour, "Us" being pretty much everyone who wasn't Spyder or me. As everyone came to learn, it is not that much fun touring with a warring couple. We fought constantly, and the band and crew were ready to commit a felony just to get us to stop. If it wasn't about the latest Chrysalis offense or insult, it was about an amorous fan thinking it was open season now that we had broken up. as the "h.e.l.l Is for Us" tour, "Us" being pretty much everyone who wasn't Spyder or me. As everyone came to learn, it is not that much fun touring with a warring couple. We fought constantly, and the band and crew were ready to commit a felony just to get us to stop. If it wasn't about the latest Chrysalis offense or insult, it was about an amorous fan thinking it was open season now that we had broken up.

As it became common knowledge that we'd split up, people's lecherous qualities came out. When Spyder and I had been dating, the girls in the audience who were crazy for him had always kept a respectful distance. Now they were exposing their b.r.e.a.s.t.s during our show. At one concert in particular, some obviously drunk girl in the front row opened her blouse during our first set and proceeded to bleat, "Neil, Neil," for the entire show. Occasionally she'd put her hands onstage, and when we got to the show's closer, "Heartbreaker," I stepped on them and stood there until the song was over just to shut her up.

Spyder didn't have it much easier. I was constantly being approached by men in one way or another, and it took ma.s.sive amounts of restraint on his part not to react. There were many nights onstage that Zel had to hold Spyder back from using his guitar as a baseball bat on some overzealous male fan. Guys came out of the woodwork with no rhyme or reason, thinking that I was fair game because I was single. Even my attorney, Owen Epstein, hit on me, which was just creepy.

Everything was torture. That tour was the only time I ever trashed a hotel room. Spyder and I were arguing, and I was screaming at him about one thing or another. We were both raging mad, and I went into the bathroom and slammed the toilet seat down, breaking it in two. I was horrified! It stopped the argument cold. It was such an out-of-character moment, but in an instant we both could see just how bad things had gotten. I'd like to think that all that tension made us rock harder, but we all could have done with a little less rock and a little more peace.

What made it harder was that I loved the road. Live performance was the reason I started singing and will always be my first love. I was never one of those musicians who dreaded the rigors of tours. People would ask me all the time if touring was difficult, and I'd tell them, "Life is hard, the road is easy." Under most circ.u.mstances that's true. Being on tour allows you to step away from everything in life and just focus on performing. On tour I'd sleep until noon, have room service, wear black leather, put on lots of makeup, perform, hear people cheer for me, get on the bus, travel to the next city, and do it all again. I'd show up to packed arenas and sing my heart out for people screaming my name. I'd see the enthusiasm in the faces of the fans in the swirling ma.s.s of the crowd, and I'd work as hard as I could to give them everything I had each night. There was no reality involved and that was the whole point. For twelve weeks, you could step away from your problems and return to the life that began it all.

That is, unless your problems happened to be on the bus beside you looking incredibly hot and emotionally distant, while reminding you that you never should have broken up in the first place. The fact that we'd had no downtime and no break from each other only exacerbated things.

There were funny moments on that tour, though. One night, we were playing a huge indoor venue when we had something of a Three Stooges moment with Myron. His drum setup that year included a cage and a large gong on a stand. Myron was a little guy, wiry and compact, probably 124 pounds soaking wet. We were playing the encore, and "Promises in the Dark" had a lot of breaks and rhythmic stops. The ending of the song had us playing a crescendo and Myron was supposed to blast the gong just before the last note.

Myron was a brilliant drummer and an amazing showman-well known for his acrobatics on stage. He'd routinely climb all over his drum set like a deranged red-haired monkey. As the end of the song drew near, he positioned himself on the gong stand in antic.i.p.ation of delivering the final downbeat. The gong was much much bigger than he was, and it certainly weighed more. He swung the mallet as hard as he could and hit the gong, and when it swung backwards, he turned to face the audience, raising the mallet triumphantly in the air. bigger than he was, and it certainly weighed more. He swung the mallet as hard as he could and hit the gong, and when it swung backwards, he turned to face the audience, raising the mallet triumphantly in the air.

While he was facing the audience, the gong swung back, knocking him off the drum riser and onto the stage. He was out cold. We too were facing the audience with our backs to him, so we didn't even know anything had happened until we heard scuffling. Zel, Spyder, and I turned around to see Myron lying on the ground, unconscious, with his drum tech and a.s.sorted crew members waving towels and throwing water on him. Like a bada.s.s, he woke up and immediately staggered to the drums to play the final beat and end the song. In spite of what had happened, the whole scene was pretty comical, not worrisome at all. Not to mention it displayed exactly the kind of dedication we'd come to expect from Myron.

But that laughter and camaraderie came sparingly. By and large, the only time that we put the fighting with each other on hold was when we were dealing with the label. We would make this band work even if that meant that we couldn't be together. Even if we fought on the road, we'd do the right thing when it came to dealing with the label: put personal problems aside for the good of the whole. We argued our case together, stood up to them when we felt they were being unfair. Spyder and I are both Capricorns, confident, driven, and goal-oriented. When we are working toward something we can get tunnel vision. And we are very loyal people. Chrysalis made us dig our heels in. When we did have to meet with any label executives, we didn't walk in with Pollyanna att.i.tudes, thinking everything was going to be sweetness and light. We knew better and we went into warrior mode, together.

Still, we were all too aware that the status quo was not sustainable. Neither one of us said anything about it but we both knew that something had to change. We just didn't know what.

AT THE END OF 1981 and early 1982, following the tour for 1981 and early 1982, following the tour for Precious Time, Precious Time, we were finally able to take a few months off. For the first time since we started making music, we were on break. It turned out to be the best thing we could have done. Spyder produced the first solo alb.u.m of British rock singer John Waite, who had made a name for himself with the Babys. For all the fights that we'd gotten into with Terry Ellis about Spyder's contribution and credit, Terry was incredibly pleased with Spyder's output and he recommended that Spyder produce John's solo debut for Chrysalis, called we were finally able to take a few months off. For the first time since we started making music, we were on break. It turned out to be the best thing we could have done. Spyder produced the first solo alb.u.m of British rock singer John Waite, who had made a name for himself with the Babys. For all the fights that we'd gotten into with Terry Ellis about Spyder's contribution and credit, Terry was incredibly pleased with Spyder's output and he recommended that Spyder produce John's solo debut for Chrysalis, called Ignition, Ignition, which had the hit single "Change." Spyder had also started working on some songs with Billy Steinberg, whom we'd collaborated with on which had the hit single "Change." Spyder had also started working on some songs with Billy Steinberg, whom we'd collaborated with on Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion and and Precious Time. Precious Time. Our friend and drummer, Myron, was featured on Our friend and drummer, Myron, was featured on Cat Dance, Cat Dance, an alb.u.m from Outlaw's guitarist Freddie Salem. an alb.u.m from Outlaw's guitarist Freddie Salem.

While Spyder continued to work, I was ready to relax. After three records and three tours in two and half years, I was just fine being a domestic G.o.ddess for a while. I stayed home and remodeled the house I'd bought after Spyder and I broke up. I went back east to visit family and friends and, of course, Spyder. Spyder spent December in New York working on Ignition, Ignition, while I stayed in California. We were miserable apart, so for my birthday on January 10, I went to New York to see him. We had dinner and talked but didn't get back together. When I flew back to Los Angeles we were still in exactly the same position, with both of us thinking, while I stayed in California. We were miserable apart, so for my birthday on January 10, I went to New York to see him. We had dinner and talked but didn't get back together. When I flew back to Los Angeles we were still in exactly the same position, with both of us thinking, Enough is enough Enough is enough.

We were tired of being confused. I remember telling one journalist that it had come down to the career or our relations.h.i.+p, that to save the band we had to make a choice. If we kept on trying to be a couple, the band could have been doomed. We had spent the last year fighting and struggling with our relations.h.i.+p. We both thought that we simply had had to go back to being friends instead of former lovers, and the only way to do that was to move on with our lives. to go back to being friends instead of former lovers, and the only way to do that was to move on with our lives.

About the same time, we both decided to see if we could have a relations.h.i.+p with someone else. It wasn't something that we discussed with each other-we just did it. I went on one date, as did Spyder. I had a nice enough time on my date and Spyder enjoyed his. But throughout the night, I couldn't escape just how wrong it felt. I didn't want to be having dinner with someone else, I wanted to be having dinner with Spyder. As it turned out, he'd experienced the same thing. He called me the next day, and when I told him I'd been out with someone else, his frustration bubbled over.

"What are you doing?" Spyder asked.

"What do you care? And what have you been doing?" I answered accusingly.

"Nothing that matters. I care about you," he said.

"Really? You could've fooled me." I didn't want to hear this. I'd finally made up my mind that I was going to forget him, try to start over.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I love you. I want you to come home."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It had been an entire year of pretending we didn't care about each other, an entire year of fighting every day, an entire year of hoping he'd change his mind and come back to me. It seemed too sudden, too perfect to be true. But that didn't stop me from jumping on the first available flight to New York.

The whole flight, I kept telling myself how crazy this was. My rational levelheadedness had once again abandoned me, thanks to Spyder. It didn't make any sense. After all, how could we heal the year of pain and hurt that we'd caused each other with a phone call and a visit? The yelling and the screaming, the hurt feelings and nights spent sulking alone in our hotel rooms? I wanted to believe it was true, that we really could do it, that we were strong enough and important enough to each other spiritually and creatively to make that happen. But I didn't know for sure-that is, until I saw him at the gate, holding a bouquet of flowers. That was when I threw caution to the wind.

At first, we just held each other, spending the day like awkward teenagers reunited after a prolonged stay at summer camp, talking and laughing-just enjoying each other for the first time in months. Ironically, it happened to be Valentine's Day, a holiday that both of us abhor, yet there was no doubt it would be a Valentine's Day to remember: after many hours of conversation, we decided to get married.

We didn't waste much time. The next day we went shopping for rings. Once our minds were made up we threw ourselves completely into it and never looked back. Just like that, the last year, all the tension, all the fighting, had been erased. Myron and his wife, Monica, were the first people we told.

"Good," Myron said. "No, wait, this isn't just good, this is great. We're so happy for you." Listening to his voice, I knew that his enthusiasm was real. He knew that this was not the latest saga in the drama between Spyder and me. This was the end, and he could hear it in my voice. He and Monica were our best friends. They knew Spyder and I belonged together, and many times over the last year, they'd been forced to sit idly by as we'd struggled. It had been painful for them to watch us go through all that-not to mention stressful to see the ways that we'd jeopardized the band. For everyone, it was a huge relief that we'd finally come to our senses.

We felt defiant when we informed Chrysalis we were getting married. I was ready to tell them to f.u.c.k off if they started their negative talk again. This time, though, they realized that there was absolutely nothing they could say or do to change our minds, so all of a sudden they did an about-face and started offering to help foot the bill-ordering Dom Perignon and toasting us like they'd been behind us the whole time.

Neither of us wanted to get married in Los Angeles or New York. Spyder wanted a small ceremony in a remote place, and I'd already done that twelve-bridesmaid, two-hundred-and-fifty-guest wedding. We wanted this to be altogether different and decided to be married right away in Tahiti. However, as soon as I spoke with our travel agent, Diane Nardizzi, I knew we had a time problem. The Grammys were coming up on February 24 at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles, and I was nominated for a second Grammy, this time for "Fire and Ice." Traveling to Tahiti, getting married, and having time even for a short honeymoon would be tight if we were going to be back in time for the ceremony. I explained that, primarily, we wanted the wedding to be private and in some beautiful spot-it didn't have to be Tahiti. We just had to be back in L.A. by the twenty-fourth.

Diane had a solution: "There's a town on Maui, a little tiny place called Hana. You can't get much more private than that. It's way off the beaten path. My client Kris Kristofferson owns some property there, and according to him it is one of the most beautiful places on earth."

Diane made the arrangements. I flew back to L.A., and Spyder followed me the next day. We'd only been to Hawaii once before, and that was to Oahu to play the Blaisdell Arena. Having no idea how small and remote Hana was, I just a.s.sumed I could buy a dress when I got there, but at the last minute, five P.M P.M. the night before we were leaving, it occurred to me to pick up something to wear, just in case. I went to Robinsons-May and bought a little white lace dress off the rack for $82. That's the OCD in me-just in case.

I had never been anywhere in Hawaii but Honolulu, so I didn't know what to expect as far as our travel accommodations were concerned. Not only did we have to charter a small plane to fly us there, but there were only a few hours that it was available. We flew from Honolulu to Kahului on Maui at night, and as we got closer, I could see the water lit by the moon and felt us getting lower and lower, to the point that I thought, Oh my G.o.d, we're gonna crash Oh my G.o.d, we're gonna crash. Then all of a sudden, just as it felt like the bottom of the plane was going to touch the tips of the trees, the pilot clicked a remote and this little runway lit up, a stunning strip of white light beaming out of the darkness of the jungle.

There was a warm breeze, and the trees smelled fresh from a rain. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and we could see that the airport was really just a little kiosk in the cane gra.s.s. Barreling toward us was a small, old-model red bus that kicked dust into the air as it wound its way down a little road. Clearly this was our transportation to the hotel. We were hooked.

The Hotel Hana-Maui, originally named the Ka'uiki Inn, was built in 1946 by a cattleman named Paul f.a.gan. It literally saved the town of Hana. When the last of the sugar plantations closed, the entire area suffered. That's when f.a.gan got the idea to build a small but luxurious hotel to try to attract tourists. When he got a baseball team to hold their practices in the area, it created jobs not just at the hotel, but throughout the village. The Hotel Hana-Maui was a luxurious 1950s-style hotel, not Beverly Hills luxury, but better. There was a definite Kon-Tiki Kon-Tiki Pacific Rim atmosphere, old Hawaii. Spyder and I stayed in the Manager's House, a small addition that was even more private than the hotel and had a private pool. Our room had this wild and colorful Hawaiian-print wallpaper, woven mats hanging on the wall, and beautiful fresh flowers and linens. Every detail felt like paradise. Pacific Rim atmosphere, old Hawaii. Spyder and I stayed in the Manager's House, a small addition that was even more private than the hotel and had a private pool. Our room had this wild and colorful Hawaiian-print wallpaper, woven mats hanging on the wall, and beautiful fresh flowers and linens. Every detail felt like paradise.

The woman we talked to about wedding arrangements was named Mary Estrella. From the moment we introduced ourselves, we knew this had been the right decision. Our names meant nothing to her. Nothing Nothing. After dealing with fame for the last three years, we were only too ready to be anonymous. The best thing of all was that even if the people in Hana had had heard of you, they didn't care about it. All Mary Estrella really knew about us was that we were there to get married. She handed us a huge ring of keys and told us we'd need to look around to find the place where we wanted our ceremony. heard of you, they didn't care about it. All Mary Estrella really knew about us was that we were there to get married. She handed us a huge ring of keys and told us we'd need to look around to find the place where we wanted our ceremony.

"Why do we need keys?" I asked.

"'Cause you gotta go through the pastures, and we don't want to let the cattle out. Just lock the gates as you go around."

Oh yeah. We were in the right place.

"We've got three churches," she continued. "But people like to get married on the land. You can just look around."

So the next day we went looking. There are about seven hundred people in Hana, mostly local Hawaiians. For tourists visiting Maui, the road to Hana is a popular trip and people are welcomed to the town Hana-style. But because most people only stay for an hour or so and drive back the same day, it's still very quiet and peaceful there. Things are done in the old ways. There are no car washes, no dry cleaners, no movie theaters. The people grow their own vegetables and hang their clothes on a line outside. There are no streetlights. Cattle wander around in the streets, and if they are in your way, you just stop the car and let them take their time. People are never late because of traffic (if they are on a time schedule, which they rarely are); if someone is late, it's because of cattle standing in the road.

Just being around the town on that first day, we could tell that this was a truly special place. In the last three years, we'd been around the world, stayed in countless hotels, flown on planes, driven around on buses, but we'd never been to a place like this. It was a place without complications, without egos. A sacred place where we could finally catch our breath-even if only for a few days.

Spyder and I spent the next two days driving around in a little Jeep, looking for a place to get married. We looked everywhere, not because we couldn't find the perfect place, but because it was so beautiful we wanted to search out every pasture, unlock every gate. We saw several mountains-every cliff, waterfall, stream, pond, and hallowed spot. Finally we decided on a site by the Leho'ula cliffs.

Next, we needed to meet with Reverend Henry Kahula, the minister of the nondenominational Waina.n.a.lua Church. Spyder and I are both Catholic, but since I had gotten a divorce, we knew that no priest would marry us. Henry Kahula had two jobs. He was both a minister and a mechanic at the only gas station in Hana. Mary Estrella told us how to find him.

"You go on down to the Chevron station and look around. He'll be there."

So we walked in and called his name. He rolled out on a dolly from underneath a truck. Henry Kahula was a big man with huge hands and a big smile. Still stretched out on the dolly, he told us he was only too happy to officiate, just needed a few details, like what time, if we had witnesses, and whether we wanted a Hawaiian ceremony. We explained that we'd already asked a couple of people who worked at the hotel, Louisa Pu and Les Mederios, to be matron of honor and best man, and that yes, we'd love to have a Hawaiian ceremony. The best part was, Reverend Kahula never got off the dolly during the entire conversation.

There were no stores in Hana to shop at for wedding-appropriate dresses, so I wore the white lace dress I'd brought with me. I married the love of my life wearing an $82 dress, and it couldn't have been more perfect. Spyder and I both had leis around our necks and po'o po'o garlands of flowers on our heads. We had flower petals from the local gardens strewn around on the cliff. It was a spectacular day for a wedding. The sun was s.h.i.+ning over Maui. The birds were flying and waves were cras.h.i.+ng against the cliff. It was February 20, 1982, and we both knew that we would forever be tied to that island paradise. garlands of flowers on our heads. We had flower petals from the local gardens strewn around on the cliff. It was a spectacular day for a wedding. The sun was s.h.i.+ning over Maui. The birds were flying and waves were cras.h.i.+ng against the cliff. It was February 20, 1982, and we both knew that we would forever be tied to that island paradise.