Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed Read online

But God had a plan.

  Tim, legally known as Timothy Hagelganz, was the bass player for Stormer, one of the more popular bands on the LA scene at the time. They drew fairly large crowds and Tim was very much a centerpiece for that band with his youthfulness and vibe, not to mention the fact that he had the chops to back it up. He was, and is, a great player who was envied by many-a-band seeking a bassist, including us.

  We used to talk about Tim a lot saying, “Man, he’d be perfect for our band, but that’ll never happen.” I just couldn’t imagine Stormer without Tim. He was such an integral part of that band.

  Stormer was always featured and interviewed in BAM Magazine, the free entertainment rag in the late ‘70s and ‘80s. The magazine launched in San Francisco, but soon had a Northern California and Southern California edition. It was distributed prominently at liquor stores, clubs, restaurants and music shops. That magazine was as iconic to the time as anything about The Sunset Strip.

  All bands wanted to be featured in BAM. The publication brought recognition to many rising acts. If you were part of the Hollywood club scene, BAM was your road map. It was a huge deal to be featured and interviewed in this magazine and Stormer was.

  BAM was also known for their musician classified ad section. We were constantly scouring each issue in search of the perfect bass player.

  Up to this point, our lives had been changing subtly but significantly and the idea of making music for God was continuing to bounce around in our heads, and in conversations. We continued to toy with the idea of going Christian with our lyrics, but we weren’t really taking the necessary steps. Our hearts were certainly changing and we grew weary of the routine on The Strip.

  I had just spent the last 7 years of my life on Sunset Strip living the sex/drugs/rock & roll lifestyle, but there was always this feeling in my heart that told me I needed to change. I attribute this largely to when I first accepted Christ and got into church. The seed was planted then and that seed obviously took root.

  Even though I was getting hammered on a regular basis and waking up with women I didn’t know, not even knowing where I was, I kept feeling that something was wrong—that I needed to change. I kept thinking, “This isn’t what I want to do. This just isn’t right.”

  My long-term and solid commitment to a life with Christ wouldn’t take place for another six months, but I could feel the seed growing and I knew I needed to do something.

  It was almost as if our meeting Tim was set up before we even knew what was going on. It was as if God had a plan and knew exactly when the right time would be to bring Tim into our lives. Robert and I had accepted Christ at an early age. Oz’s mother, who was a Christian and went to a Pentecostal church, was always talking to him about God and pleading with him to go to church. God was in Oz’s life from an early age. And then there was Tim—the awesome bass player in Stormer—your standard Hollywood rock band.

  So here we were—Oz, Robert and myself—three guys who were Christians and really wanted to make a go at this, but didn’t really know how. Or it’s equally possible that we just didn’t have the courage to take the stance we needed to take, and therefore we were suppressing those feelings of needing to change our lifestyle and lyrics.

  One night Oz and I decided to hit Gazzarri’s when Stormer would be playing. After the show Oz and Tim talked for a while and managed to exchange numbers. Nothing came of it, but we continued to go see Stormer play over the next few months. And if we didn’t see them play, we could always pick up a copy of BAM and read about the latest with them.

  Then one day I happened to be down on The Strip and I picked up the latest copy of the magazine. To no surprise, there was Stormer featured once again, only this time Tim wasn’t in the picture with the band. They had another bass player.

  I immediately brought this to Robert’s attention and told him, “Hey man, I don’t think Tim is in Stormer any longer. We should give him a call.”

  The next day after rehearsal, we all gathered around the phone while Robert called Tim. His mom answered the phone and told Robert that Tim wasn’t home. Robert, thankfully, pressed on and went ahead and told her that we were a band and we were looking for a bass player.

  Tim’s mom, a bit thrown off, explained that Tim didn’t do that anymore. She said that he became a Christian and decided to leave Stormer for that very reason. He had rededicated his life to God and was getting out of that scene.

  Tim’s father was a Presbyterian preacher, so just like Rob, Oz, and me, he had the seed planted at an early age and it, too, had apparently taken root.

  Robert spoke up quickly and said “Wow. Well, we’re Christians, too, and that’s what we want to do, play Christian music.”

  I think Tim’s mother was surely skeptical, but regardless, we convinced Tim to come down the next day and meet with us. No audition necessary. We agreed on the spot that we wanted him in the band, and he agreed as well.

  It was all coming together. God was laying the ground work for us to all come together at the right time and place and it seemed miraculous.

  That week we started rehearsing together. We were still known as Roxx Regime, but the birth of Stryper was just around the corner.

  EIGHT

  We were contemplating the whole “Christian thing.” I wouldn’t say we were 100% committed at this point, but we were paying good lip-service to the idea. It wasn’t as if we were lying to Tim’s mom when we said we were Christians. We were. But by no means were we men of conviction—however that was about to change.

  In 1979, we were performing as Aftermath at The La Mirada Civic Center. There were four bands on the bill that night and one of the bands had a local keyboard player/singer named Kenny Metcalf. Ken wasn’t a Christian at the time and I’d even go as far as to say that he was quite the opposite.

  Fast-forward to when Tim joined the band and Kenny heard about us. I saw Kenny around town from time to time and someone told me that he had become a Christian and devoted his life to Christ. Having known of Kenny’s reputation for quite some time and then being told that he was now a believer was amazing to me. I ran into Kenny on another occasion and he mentioned to me that he would like to stop by a rehearsal.

  Sensing my apprehension, he said that he too was now a Christian and he wanted to check the band out and see what we were up to. I agreed to let him stop by, unsure of his motives.

  So that night we started rehearsals as usual, running through song after song. Mind you, the lyrics weren’t from a Christian perspective at this point. They were the same songs we had been playing and recording. Kenny came in and listened through part of our set, and after we were done we got into a long conversation with him and he shared in depth about how he had given his life to Christ.

  He said that we needed to do the same and if we did, God would do incredible things with the band. It was odd that although he was telling us what to do, it wasn’t in a forceful “turn or burn” way at all. He wasn’t pointing fingers at us telling us we were sinners. It was non-judgmental and as a result, we were receptive. He was very enthusiastic and encouraging at the same time.

  “Look guys. God wants to do some incredible things with you,” he said as he looked around the room making eye contact with each of us. “You all know God. You’ve been there. And at one point in your life you’ve all made a commitment to God. If you devote this band to God 100%, He’s going to take you places you’ve never dreamed of and He’ll open doors and it’s going to be incredible.”

  It was as if he saw our future. Or perhaps God saw our future and had put it upon Kenny’s heart to tell us that if we didn’t take our commitment seriously, doors to our future in music would remain closed.

  Kenny continued to talk and we all took it in. Toward the end of the conversation he asked if we could all pray together, and we did.

  I wasn’t sure what tomorrow would hold, but what he said laid heavy on my heart—and, come to find out, it was laying quite heavily on the hearts of the other guys as well.


  The next day, we continued to discuss this experience as a band. Rob, Oz, and Tim were obviously open to it, but again, nobody really knew what we should do and I think we were all a little nervous.

  Picture this. The year is 1983 and we look around and see all these bands getting big record deals. Bands that had at one time opened for us were now of national and international acclaim. They all lived the Hollywood lifestyle. So it was a little—scratch that—it was a LOT intimidating to think about being a band that stood for the complete opposite of everything that was successful and popular at the time.

  We finally had the bass player of our dreams. Were we going to waste away playing on Sundays in Church for the rest of our lives while everyone else got signed and found a career in music? Were we about to make the biggest mistake of our lives and throw all of our hopes and dreams out the window? Wouldn’t it be enough to just be Christians, and not really sing about Jesus? Perhaps for some, that’s the right path, but for us it wasn’t the path we were supposed to take.

  We decided to meet with another guy by the name of Michael Guido, whom Tim used to be in a band with. Tim invited him to come meet with us and he really brought encouragement into our lives and began to ease our fears. Guido, as we call him, had done a complete U-Turn with his life since his days in the band with Tim. Guido was heavily into alcohol and the lifestyle that typically goes along with most bands, even getting in a few bad accidents as a result of his drinking. He was fortunate and blessed to be alive.

  I believe seeing this transformation of Guido first hand really had an effect on Tim, although all of us were affected by the encouragement he offered.

  Very shortly after meeting with Guido, the four of us- Rob, Tim, Oz, and I- got together and unanimously agreed that this was something we wanted to do. We wanted to dedicate this band to God. We were done talking about it and it was time to actually do it.

  That night we sat and we prayed. We individually and collectively recommitted our lives to Christ. It was an emotional night as we prayed and encouraged each other. No matter what happened, we were going to devote ourselves 100%. We agreed that night to hold one another accountable for our actions, and agreed to support one another along what we were sure would be a difficult and unknown path.

  After that night, I took the first step and said to the band, “Guys, if we’re going to do this, one of the first things we need to do is change the lyrics to our songs.” They agreed, but I think with a little uncertainty.

  I worked relentlessly over the next week or so rewriting the lyrics to all of the songs. Some of them didn’t need much rewriting. I was already writing songs about love and relationships, so some just needed small changes, yet others were a little more drastic.

  Thinking back on this time in our lives excites me. Our faith was fresh, sincere and uncluttered. Our fears of what others would think, or whether or not we might succeed, no longer mattered. We were committed and that’s all that counted. The bond within the band was indescribable. We were both happy and sober, something that up until that point we didn’t believe was possible.

  Each night at rehearsal we would read the Bible and pray. When I think back on those times, I miss them. We don’t do enough of that these days. Sure, we still pray, but sometimes it feels stale and rushed. It’s almost as if we’re saying, “Okay guys, hurry up, let’s pray. We’re on in 10 minutes.” And that’s not what prayer should be about. Prayer should be from the heart with an interest in sharing with God, without limitations. Instead, sometimes it feels more like “We’ve got a show to do in 2 minutes—let’s pray because we forgot to.”

  Prayer in the early days of the band was a lot less rushed. We would take time to not only talk to God, but to each other. Our faith was alive and real, not just a set of doctrines that we all agreed on intellectually. We had a very personal relationship with God.

  Before shows we would meet and without thinking about it, we would take the time to sit, talk and pray. Sometimes we’d have crew and friends in the room and there would be a dozen or more people gathered. We’d dim the lights and just talk and pray. We’d pour everything out to one another, and many times it led to tears. Other times it was just short and simple, but always real.

  I think just the fact that we never prayed the same way twice shows me that it was not ritualistic at all. We just completely opened our hearts and laid everything out. Sometimes we’d spend an hour or more praying and talking and it would get pretty deep, yet other times it was short and light-hearted. We did it because we wanted to. All of us genuinely looked forward to prayer. It bonded us together more than we ever could have imagined.

  This is what the “behind-the-scenes” was like when we were just getting started. And we weren’t shy about it either. If you were around when we prayed, I don’t care if you were the house sound guy, the janitor, the bouncer or whatever... if you were standing nearby, we’d invite you to join us. It was casual yet amazingly powerful.

  NINE

  “Whose birthday is it?” I asked one of the people at Enigma Records on the first day we met with the label.

  The candles and cake were a dead give-away. But it wasn’t your typical one or two candles on a cake type setting. There were candles everywhere in the office, almost like some ambient mood lighting for the occasion. Either way, I just assumed it was somebody’s birthday. Or maybe I was just making small talk because I was a nervous wreck about the meeting with Bill and Wes Hein (label founders and owners).

  Come to find out, I was right. It was somebody’s birthday.

  On the day we took our first meeting with Enigma Records, the entire office was celebrating the birthday of Aleister Crowley, one of the most influential occultists of all time who is recognized by many as a key predecessor to Satanism.

  “Wow. This is no way to start.” I thought. “Probably not the right label for us. Oh well. We’re here. We may as well take the meeting.”

  Had we not already been escorted half way down the carpeted hallway lined with gold records and album marketing posters when I found out whose birthday it was, I probably would have turned around and left.

  Glad I didn’t.

  Since the addition of Tim Gaines, we had really been working hard trying to get the coveted record deal. Hair bands were starting to get signed and we just couldn’t seem to cross that bridge from the land of “Semi-Popular Sunset Strip Band” over to “Major Label Band Ready To Conquer The World.”

  It was frustrating. We’d hear all these stories of this band or that band taking meetings with labels. We’d here about so-and-so showcasing for this label or for that label. We were dancing with local success, but no labels were interested, until we met with Enigma.

  A week prior, Robert and I carefully pieced together a faux record jacket/sleeve and the infamous early “demo” cassette to send to Enigma. We creatively labeled it with a thin-tipped black Sharpie and a yellow highlighter with the words “ROXX REGIME DEMO.” We taped the package closed and placed it in a padded envelope scheduled for overnight delivery just a few cities away in Torrance.

  By 10:30 the next morning we received confirmation that the package had arrived, and we exercised what little self-control we had and didn’t follow up with a phone call. We had decided that if they didn’t call us by the end of the week, we’d call them.

  They received the demo on a Tuesday and called us that Thursday. The following week, we took a meeting with the Hein brothers and their team at Enigma Records.

  Enigma was diverse in their signings. They had everyone from Motley Crue (early on) to Poison, but they had never signed a Christian band.

  We later found out that the logo for Enigma records is an illustration of a woman’s breast and “junk,” for lack of a better term, and we became even more hesitant about the road we were traveling down.

  What’s strange about that time in our career, now looking back on it, was that we weren’t really into Christian rock music, nor did we even consider the thought of soliciting Chri
stian labels. It wasn’t as if we were against the idea, we just didn’t have the idea. We were surrounded by bands getting signed to LA labels, and well, that’s just what you’re supposed to do when you’re a rock band from Hollywood— get signed to a rock label like everyone else. We knew two kinds of music at the time. It was either Rock or Metal (read: Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Van Halen, and Black Sabbath).

  In 1983 the only semi-notable Christian rock acts were Petra, The Rez Band, Phil Keaggy, Mylon LeFevre, and Larry Norman, and we certainly weren’t listening to any of them. Nothing against those acts personally. I know most of those guys and I respect and admire them immensely. It just wasn’t our kind of music, so signing with a label who signed those bands never even crossed our minds. We sounded nothing like them, so it wasn’t even in our consciousness to consider looking at labels that had signed Christian bands.

  So, we met with Enigma and they were all incredibly nice. They liked what we were doing, but they didn’t like it enough. They asked for a private showcase as the next step.

  Our friend (and brief former guitarist), Odie, had a warehouse in Whittier where his new band was rehearsing and he agreed to let us use the space for an evening.

  We set up a showcase for Enigma Records to take place a few weeks later at the warehouse.

  Showcases, particularly private ones, are odd affairs. You’re essentially playing a live show, but your audience is made up of only a few people from the record label with the sole purpose of deciding your fate as an artist within their record label world. They are there to judge you, plain and simple. “Are you a big enough rock star with big enough rock hooks to make our label millions and millions of dollars?” And this all takes place on a Tuesday at 7:00 in the evening.

  So we decided to make it a little less awkward, and unbeknownst to Enigma, we invited a bunch of friends so we could have people (fans) who knew the music and who would stand up near the stage, giving us the energy that only a live audience can give.