Jeremy Spencer - Death Punchd

In loving memory of Josh Wright

Plato says that the unexamined
life is not worth living.

But what if the examined life turns
out to be a clunker as well?

Kurt Vonnegut

THE DREAM
2005

IN EXORDIUM
197379

THE WAY OF THE FIST
2005

INFLUENCES
THE 80S

FIRST TOUR
2007

THE AWAKENING
198687

SEX, MORE SEX, AND A LITTLE ROCK N ROLL
2007

ROCK N ROLL REBEL
198789

NEVER ENOUGH
200809

REHABBA-DABBA-DOO
198991

THE ANSWER... WAR IS HELL
2009

GO WEST, YOUNG MAN
199192

INTO THE DESERT, THEN BACK IN THE STUDIO
201011

DECADE OF BROKEN DREAMS
19942004

THE BEGINNING OF THE END
2010

Lying in a king-size bed in an executive suite at the Mandalay Bay, I was shaking uncontrollably. My heart repeatedly skipped beats and I was about to check out... not from my room but from my life. Out the darkened window, the dazzling panoply of multicolored lights stared back as if to say, In Vegas, even death is shrouded in glamour. Glamour... what a joke. The glitz might as well be a CGI creation, for nothing in Vegas is real except the potential for loss. People flock to this desert oasis, hoping to leave a winner, to escape or salvage their lives, to right the sinking ship or somehow validate their existence, but if they stay long enough, the odds are guaranteed theyll end up losing: the next mortgage payment, life savings, homes, family, self-respect... maybe everythingincluding the will to live.

Thats when I started thinking of my parents and how crushed theyd be if their son, whod left home at nineteen, with $150 in his pocket, no job, and no prospects to pursue his dream of being in a successful rock band, died from a cocaine overdose.

Thats when it hit me. ENOUGH! Id been up for two fog-filled sleepless days. For the last seventeen frenetic hours, when I wasnt fucking and sometimes even when I was, I had a cup of Jack Daniels in one hand and a straw in the other. The chick Id flown out for the weekend had ingested so much meth she laynude and unconsciousnext to me. Like a crazed dog, Id indulged in sex, booze, and cocaine to a point that I was now clutching my heart to keep it from exploding from my chest. It was fibrillating, skipping beats... and for a drummer, thats some scary shit. Still, all I cared about was snorting the last of my cocaine and getting more.

I mean, if there was any coke left, I had to do it. Need a visual? Try this: if there was a Close Encounters of the Third Kind mashed-potatoes pile of cocaine left, I had to do it... all. In case youve never seen the movie, what Im saying is... it was a fucking huge pile of blow, similar to the mountain of mashed potatoes Richard Dreyfus compulsively sculpts into the Devils Tower on his dinner plate while his family looks on in abject horror.

Id had numerous parties, far too many, but this time the party had me. After snorting shitloads of coke and meth, my body finally gave out. Struck with the force of an electroshock current to the brain, I began convulsing and feared I couldnt stop.

This was it: The End.

All of the late nights had finally caught up with me. I was on top of the world with my third smash-hit album, and at that point, the coolest thing about gold records was you could snort cocaine off them.

I d had enough of the music biz.

For over ten years, Id tried everything to break through, believing success was just round the corner. Band after bandsome that had deals and lost them, others right on the cusp, and still others without a prayerId experienced every kind but one that succeeded. All the while, Id watched from the sidelines while gimmick bands or carbon-copy bands or flavor-of-the-month bands got deals, snared the gold ring, and hit the big timeknowing none was any better than some Id been a part of.

It had taken years, but I suddenly realized the Golden Rule was a hoax and that hard work didnt always pay off. I hadnt done to others anything comparable to the shit that had been dealt my way. And furthermore, the best doesnt always win: not the best song, the best singer, the best musician, the best painting, the best artist, the best film, or the best actorfar from it. In fact, if the best does occasionally find itself in the winners circle, it often has more to do with a behind-the-scenes payoffwhether a payback or a greased palmor with sheer luck rather than brilliance. Unquestionably, luck appears to be way more important than talent. And fairness has little or nothing to do with how the games played. As the saying goes, Its not who you know, its who you blow.

Id recently had a close call of being a member of the venerable shock-rock band W.A.S.P., who peaked back in the mid-80s. Not exactly my dream gig, but after the close calls and disappointments Id faced, W.A.S.P. was at least a bona fide band of heavy metals glorious past. After a grueling audition process, I was hired by the founder and lead singer, Blackie Lawless. I was so happy I told everyone I knew and quickly quit my data-processing job to begin rehearsing. But, just days before we were to go on a big European tour, Blackie fired metelling me their old drummer wanted the gig back. After years of disappointment, I decided my lifelong, fantasy-filled dream had dragged on long enough. I was over it. I called Dad in Tennessee and told him Id given it my best shot, endured all the frustration I could withstand, and nowwith the added humiliation of misinforming all my friends that Id be touring with W.A.S.P.I was more than ready to come home.

I dont think so, he said.

What do you mean? Ive been out here grinding away pretty much since high school.

Jeremy, youve almost always played in bands you either didnt like or you werent really into. Youve played music you hated or music you found lacking, and never once have you played the music you love... metal.

The metal scenes dead, Dad.

Im not talking about selling quadruple platinum, Im talking about finally allowing yourself to play music you care about.

So what are you saying? You dont want me to come back?

You can come back anytime you need to, but in the long run, I dont think youll be happy until you do what you were intended to do. Try to find some like-minded people, get together, and do your own thing. If it comes to nothing, at least youre playing music youve always been passionate about.

I hung upthinking, Great... that all sounds good, but its not gonna happen. And, knowing I couldnt exist another week without a paycheck, I faced further humiliation by having to call my old boss to see if I could have my mind-numbing data-entry job back. I felt both relief and complete defeat when she said yes.

The more I thought about it, the more I knew Dad was right. After nearly a dozen years, it was time I finally played in the right band, a band I helped form, playing the kind of music I loved: METAL.

As for the current metal scene, Id been listening to Killswitch Engage, Trivium, and Shadows Fall. I liked those bands, even though their style wasnt what I was looking for. I wanted to be part of a band that had great songs with powerful melodic vocals, cool rhythmic guitars, and shredding double-bass drum. As opposed to a single bass used by most rock drummers, with the exception of Creams Ginger Baker, Rushs Neal Peart, and a few others, the use of two bass drums hit its stride when the 80s head-banging bands emerged. If I had an edge as a drummer, it was that my double-bass playing sounded like a machine gun on a toxic dose of Dexedrine. I went to the Music Connection website, where musicians place wanted ads, and punched in Shredding double-bass metal drummer.