HERE'S THE REAL STORY... YO, METALHEADS! Welcome to our motherfuckin’ myspace. Though CSFH broke up in ’91, there is so much misinformed crap being tossed around out there that we decided to come out of hiding to set the record straight. First of all—No, NO, NO! Contrary to dumbass reports otherwise, Cycle Sluts From Hell were not the brainchild of famed Overkill guitarist Bobby Gustafson. Nor were we the victims of someone pulling “marionette strings from offstage” as reported by the Encyclopedia of Heavy Metal. We invented ourselves, all by ourselves, imagine that! There was no master plan, no Svengali, no COCKS dictating the ROCK except for Lord Roadkill, who we will get to soon enough. There was just a lot of alcohol and good dose of mayhem. Bobby did step in to play guitar on the album, and for a tour through Europe with Motorhead, and we love him dearly. But we’re pretty fucking sick of such a retarded, sexist and erroneous rumor being regularly circulated. HERE’S THE REAL STORY: Cycle Sluts from Hell spawned in 1986 on a steamy summer night in New York City, which was a much different and far better town back then. All members worked, played, drank, and acted like fools in a small dump on 1st Avenue called the Lismar Lounge. Lismar was owned by a fairly dubious and criminal Chinese slumlord and somehow became home to a burgeoning NY rock and metal scene; other bands to come out at that time were Raging Slab, Circus of Power, Warriorsoul, White Zombie, The Throbs, Princess Pang, and a host of others we are too fried to remember. It was a rock and roll circus every night, especially if you didn’t mind watered liquor and dripping pipes. Jane’s Addiction did an impromptu set one night just for the hell of it, Joe Walsh got up and drunkenly played with The Skulls another time, Rick Ruben hung out once in a while, and there was always one rock star or another walking through the door and being handed a free shot of cheap liquor. Lismar Manager Glen Benson (R.I.P. good friend!) was always coming up with a plan, and one day declared a new party night. He dubbed it Cycle Slut Thursday, and for entertainment’s sake an all-star staff and friend gig was planned and performed. About 10 or so people got up and did covers and strutted their stuff around to a full house. Granted, the house only fit about 75 people, but it was full. Well, needless to say the show was a blast. In fact, the show was such a success that a few of the night’s performers decided to continue the fun and put a band together. They chose to keep the Cycle Slut name and tack on “From Hell”. Because we were! And to make things more entertaining we drunkenly chose Zodiac Mindwarp style names for ourselves (love on ya, Slam Thunderhide!). And thus was born Cycle Sluts From Hell, featuring Honey One Percenter, Queen Vixen, Venus Penis Crusher, She-Fire of Ice, and Lord Roadkill, who was the one body with a cock who was with us from beginning to end. He wasn’t our Svengali but he was equally as important as any of the ladies, and should be getting the credit that is often thrown in other directions. Along with the genius Lord Roadkill came famed Ramones producer Daniel Rey, who was enlisted to play guitar with us. Unfortunately we were never able to convince him to choose a silly name for himself. The band’s lineup has always featured the four women up front singing “gang bang” style vocals (later used to pop success by the Spice Girls, by the way), Lord Roadkill on lead guitar, and a rotating stock of musicians and friends playing second guitar, bass, and drums. There are too many to name and as we get the actual website up and running we’ll put in a page to give you some info on each one. But for now let’s just say there were more than a few over the years. We wrote songs purely for our own entertainment and never with any kind of serious message in mind. Our first gig was at the Pyramid on Avenue A, and to our surprise, it was packed to the rafters. We had a riot, and so did our good friend Joey Ramone, who then enlisted us to play a second gig opening for the Ramones at the Ritz on 11th Street. Joey continued to help us throughout much of our career by booking CSFH into various shows he put together with other local bands and taking us on small tours around the East Coast. If it wasn’t for Joey’s generous heart and sincere love of rock and roll we might not be writing this today. He was a great supporter of local New York bands during his lifetime. Sooo, anyway, things went along swimmingly: we got tons of press, everyone wanted to fuck us, and our gigs were packed. Soon there was a bidding war to sign CSFH and we all felt very sexy and loved. Truthfully, many of the bands playing around New York got signed during that time period. If you could make it to the gig and a had a full head of long hair you were more than likely to get a record deal in New York in the late 80’s. And we were at the head of the headbanging pack. CSFH almost went with A & M until we were informed that owner Herb Alpert wanted us to change the name. He just didn’t think it was ladylike. So we belched a couple of times and left that meeting scratching our heads. Then there were a few others, lots of heavy conversations and backstage handshaking, but eventually we went with Sony--most likely because they took us to the Odeon in a limousine and bought us a really expensive dinner. It was a lovely relationship: Sony’s Tony Martell loved us, and we loved him. He was like the daddy we never had. He gave us a ton of cash and we were off and running, quickly burning through it on thigh-high boots and musical equipment. And then before you could say “fame and fortune” we were in the Hit Factory recording the album. There was a moment when we thought Gene Simmons might produce the record but he wanted a gazillion dollars and nearly all the points, and during the meeting we were more interested in his tongue than what he was actually trying to say. So he stomped off annoyed and Glen Robinson was chosen to produce the record. At the studio we shared the same space with Paul Simon--Paul during the day, us at night, and he hated us because we kept eating his popcorn. Honey made a sign that said, “Me and Julio ate all the popcorn” and his staff took it down, informing us that Paul didn’t think we were nearly as hilarious as we did. Cranky midget… We filmed a rocking video with all of our friends and came up with a concept for the album cover: we wanted a very debauched scene featuring a bed, us, some naked boys and remnants of food and spilled wine and the like. We were picturing something dark and decadent and lush, like an old masters type painting. But of course, as with all things Cycle Slut, that concept went horribly, hideously awry. We hired famed photographer David LaChappelle for the job, and while he is brilliant, his vision is much different than what we had in mind. So it all ended up being much pinker and far gayer than we had imagined it would be, with boys painted golden and our hair teased up as big as Divine’s. To add to that, we had to leave for Europe to tour with Motorhead before the cover art was put together. We naively (and drunkenly), packed our halter tops and hot pants and got on a plane, hoping for the best from our management and Sony’s art department. Ha! So halfway through the tour we get the cd. Picture that scene in Spinal Tap where they get the album and the cover is black. None blacker. Due to the David’s pink vision and the change from CD long box to the current smaller square packaging of today (old enough to remember the long box anyone?), the Cycle Sluts From Hell debut CD cover turned out to be an extremely pink background with a round, golden male ass centered on the cover. Not a photo of the band! No debauched scene! Just a single, shining, golden male ass. None gayer. To which Venus began screaming, “Oh my God! There’s an ass on our record cover!! THERE’S AN ASS ON OUR RECORD COVER!!!” Yes, indeed, my dear, there was. And that golden ass remains there to this day, to follow us to our graves. But the Motorhead tour was a roaring success and we came off of the road feeling like real pros. We learned how to rock (and party) from one of the greatest bands in the world. We started off green as hell and came back a few months later nice and crispy. Our first show at the Hammerstein Ballroom in London was decidedly less than stellar as we hid behind microphones while performing for the ten cynical Brits that showed up early enough to see us open. The British press ripped us to shreds. But by the time we had finished roaming through Europe on a sea of alcohol and Motorheady good times, we were ready to return to London at a whole new level of playing. We tore down the house at our own show at London’s Marquee, and got on the plane feeling ten feet tall and ready to conquer America, butt shot record cover be damned. Alas, there was a hitch in our plan for world domination. While we were rocking the shit out of Europe, our beloved label master Tony Martell was being unceremoniously shoved from his seat of power by another major label player who hated us! Hint: he later married an extremely skanky R & B chanteuse. Yes, it’s hard to believe that anyone could hate a fun-loving bunch of gals and guys like CSFH, but he did, and with a passion. Perhaps we were not skanky enough. In any case, we never heard from Sony Records again, and they never completely released the record in the States. They just sent out the ones they had initially pressed, with no expectation. There was no advertising, no promotion, and no tour budget. MTV showed our $80,000 video twice on Headbanger’s Ball, and without a push from a label that was all they were gonna do. The label never even called to say we were fired! But we got the hint after a month or so, and got confirmation from a friend in the business. (“Dude...sorry...you guys are history...”) It was a big, fat, depressing bummer for the Sluts. But being Sluts, we continued to persevere for a time afterwards, and toured on our own up and down the East Coast, sometimes playing to no one, sometimes playing to crowded rooms. Then, as with all bands, we started getting pretty sick of one another and the lack of financial support. Also, the music scene was changing and there were many differences within the band on how our own music needed to evolve. You try getting four women to agree on anything! So without too much acrimony or argument, we broke up and went our separate ways, never to Slut again. In the final dénouement, and in another typically CSFH bad luck blow, Beavis and Butthead featured the video in a show segment well after the end had come. They loved us! And that show played over and over and OVER again during prime television time. So of course, once we were no longer a band, we were finally in constant rotation on MTV. It was just another kick in the leather pants. So that is our tale, in a brief nutshell. We may add details here and there later on, but this gives you the picture. And what are we doing now? You’ll either have to find our myspace pages or wait until we get the actual website up and running. Suffice to say we’re all alive and kicking and rocking. Rock on, posers!