Nikki Sixx and 'The Heroin Diaries'
Nickelback pretty much nailed the true notion of the American Dream when the band penned the lyrics "We all just wanna be big rock stars."
It's true. Wherever you are in the life at the moment, if you could trade it for a hit record, a tour bus, groupies, buckets of cash and the cover of Rolling Stone, you would do it. It's ingrained in our culture. A rock star is the president of cool. A movie star, $20 million a flick or not, is the under secretary.
Tear through Nikki Sixx's new memoir "The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of Shattered Rock Star" and you'll see. Through all the stories of drug addiction, overdosing and police involvement, there's a part of you that wants to be able to say you lived the life. To be clear, by no means are we condoning drug use. Rather, we're asking you to read beyond that and focus on the big picture.
In 1987, Motley Crue was on top of the world, the biggest rock band on Earth, complete with all the expected accoutrements -- plus a few more. The Girls Girls Girls tour set all kinds of records for debauchery, some of which are documented in Sixx's book, many of which are documented in the 2001 Motley tome "The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band."
The phrase "party like a rock star" may not have been invented for Motley Crue, but they certainly perfected and patented its definition.
But where "The Heroin Diaries" differs is in its then-and-now approach. Somewhere in between recording the "Girls Girls Girls" album, touring, pounding Jack Daniel's like a marathoner does water, snorting coke, getting into insane battles with on-again off-again girlfriend Vanity and shooting heroin into parts of the body not printable here, Sixx kept a diary.
That diary is the basis for the book, with more than 200 days worth of entries. Those entries are accompanied by modern-day commentary from the people involved in the stories, including Crue members Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars, and other Crue folks such as managers, producers, roadies, family members and other characters in the sick and twisted life of Nikki Sixx.
In short, it's amazing. Impossible to put down. Each page filled with more shock and awe than the previous.
The book basically covers the time between when Sixx died near the end of 1986 in a garbage dumpster in London to when he died again just before Christmas 1987 in Van Nuys, Calif.
That's not a joke. It's just a sample of what you'll read. And what you'll read is the raw thoughts of a heroin and coke addict who, while in between blackouts and overdoses, was the creator, leader, lyricist and bassist for the most successful rock band at the time.
With each riveting turn of the page, you root for Sixx. To get clean. To stay clean. To live. Even though you already know before you cracked the book for the first time that Sixx is still alive, you'll start to question that as you read. At some point, you'll think this is a novel. It's not. But you root for Sixx the way you would root for any tragically flawed character in a work of fiction.
In between the sadness, there are some moments of hilarity. Such as Sept. 27, 1987. It was 3:30 a.m. in a Dallas hotel. Two hot girls knock on Sixx's door. They wanted to repeat the events of the previous evening. Sixx was too ill, strung out on heroin and whatever else he put into his body that week, and turned them down. But he gave them back their shoes and their underwear. "Thanks, but these aren't my panties," one girl said. Sixx then writes, "and her girlfriend said they weren't hers either. Oh Lord."
That's the sort of thing you get when you read about Motley Crue. This book is a must-read for anyone who ever shouted at the devil.