Categories > Celebrities > Def Leppard
Title: Miss You In A Heartbeat
Author: LadyLissa
Fandom: Rock (Def Leppard)
Characters: Rick, Joe, Sav, Viv, Phil, mentions of Steve
Content: Angst, m/m relationships, mentions of m/m sex
SLash/Het/Mixed: slash
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue
Distribution: KliqzCamelot, otherwise ask and ye shall probably receive
Rating: NC-17, just to be safe
Any Notes? Heavily based on two separate things. The first being an interview I read with Phil over on DefLeppard.com done about a year ago. The second being the video for the song “Miss You in a Heartbeat”. The symbolism in this song is astounding, and very painful, if you get it. For those of you who have not seen, or do not remember the video, it is one of the ones right after Steve’s death. The entire band is playing in separate rooms in a house, with the exception of Phil, who is playing on a bench in front of what appears to be a cemetery.
Rick Allen, Drums
Steve’s death hit all of us hard. Admittedly, none of us felt it quite as bad as Phil did, but we were all upset by it. I remember getting the call in the late afternoon, January 8, 1991. We were working on our new album, “Adrenalize”. Steve had been given a 6 month leave of absence to get his shit straight, as Joe put it.
Joe had been all for just…dropping him, I guess. Like we had done with Pete. That didn’t work with Steve, though. Everyone knew, if Steve was kicked out, Phil was going with him. The two of them, they were a package deal. Tea and biscuits, fish and chips, or more fitting for the two of them, Gin and Tonic. You didn’t have one without the other. The Terror Twins.
Steve had been battling alcoholism for years. Publicly, he battled it from around ’87 or ’88 until his death in ’91. Privately, however, Steve had been battling it from the time I met him. Longer, actually.
The 5 of us were a close knit little family. I mean, come on, we would have to be, right? If we weren’t, would I still be with the band? Do you know of any other one armed drummers out there? But I guess, when it comes right down to it, I’m the one with the most of an “outsiders viewpoint” on the matter. I could see it coming. I think Joe could too, and that’s why he tried to pull Sav and himself away from Steve before it happened. Give them the space they needed. Because we all know Sav, he’s the emotional one of us all. But there was no pulling Phil away. And there was no pulling me away, either.
Steve and Phil were the ones who used to come visit me every day when I was in the hospital, fighting for my life, and then for my career when I was in the car accident. Steve used to sit with me and tell me stories, stories I don’t think anyone else knew, except for maybe Phil. Stories of the things he had been through in his life. He would sit there and tell me his hopes, his dreams, his fears, anything and everything. The rest of the guys, they were too busy trying to be upbeat and pretend that everything was alright, but not Steve. I think maybe he knew that if they all treated me like a piece of broken glass, I was never going to get any better.
In the months following his death, we were all rather broken hearted, but we decided we had to pull through and keep going. We couldn’t let our dream…Steve’s dream…die with him. We considered just doing it as the four of us, letting Joe play rhythm guitar when needed as well as sing. But that wasn’t our sound. We eventually got Vivian. It wasn’t quite the same. I think, to this day, 16 years later, poor Vivian feels like an outsider. He’s not, though. He’s one of us. But he’s not Steve. No one ever will be.
Vivian Campbell, Co-Lead Guitar
I had met the other guys before Steve’s death, a few times. I can’t say I knew any of them that well, but I knew of them.
I got a call not too long after their “Adrenalize” album was finished, telling me they were interviewing for a new guitarist. When I went in for the audition, I noticed something. Every guy there trying out was trying to be Steve Clark, instead of doing their own sound. And with every attempt, Phil looked more and more down.
I later found out that Phil had been heavily considering leaving the band with Steve’s death, though at the time, all I knew was that if I wanted the position, the last thing I should do was be anther Steve Clark tribute.
I was welcomed into the band almost immediately. Accepted, however, that was an entirely different matter. I was “the new guy”, “the replacement”, and the fans even more than the band themselves never let me forget it.
I was eventually accepted, however. Rick was the first one to accept me. It was strange the way it happened, because it made me realize that he had accepted me long before I realized it. We were doing an interview and the guy asked how it felt to be Steve Clark’s replacement. Rick sat forward and informed him that I was no one’s “replacement”, I was “a Leppard in my own right, and people needed to get over that.” He went on to say that yes, they missed Steve, too, but it wasn’t fair to me to keep treating me like I was second best. After that, the others slowly came around. I think Rick’s little impromptu speech may have been more designed towards them than the fans, but any way you look at it, I’ll always be grateful to him for that.
Phil and I are still a little strained. I think we always will be. But then, Phil is a little stand-offish from everyone. He decided to stick it out, but I don’t think that means he likes it very much. They say he’s changed since Steve’s death. He’s not as happy. He’s not as friendly. He keeps everyone at arms length now.
All I know is that Steve Clark was a great man, and a great guitarist. Though, he was also a man haunted by personal demons. Demons I don’t think anyone else ever quite understood completely.
Rick Savage, Bass Guitar
Steve. He was a great friend. He was more than just that, though, he was my brother. All the guys are. Well, except Joe, because that would just be rather “wrong”, if you catch my drift. But any way you looked at it, we were all very close.
A few months before Steve died; he started drinking even more heavily. None of us really know why. Well, at least none of us know and will say why. I think Phil knows, but he never said. He just said it was personal, and it was up to Steve to tell us. Whether he ever would have or not, I guess we’ll never know. I like to think he would, though.
Any which way you look at it, though, we decided to give him 6 months off. We could afford it. We were, for the most part, in the writing process of our last album he would be a part of, “Adrenalize”. Everyone kind of needed the break anyway.
In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t the best of ideas. Maybe if he hadn’t been on break he wouldn’t have done it. He always did better when all of us were together. Or at least when him and Phil were together. I think Phil blames himself for it. He shouldn’t, though. If he had even guessed Steve needed him, he would have been there faster than you can blink. I guess I can understand that guilt in a way, because I feel it, a little bit, as well.
We should have done more. We should have tried harder. We should have forced him to stay in one of the rehab centers instead of letting him keep checking himself out. Hind sight is 20/20 they say.
When Steve died, we all had a long talk about what we were going to do. Phil, he wanted to quit. The only reason he stuck it out in the beginning was because he wanted the last of Steve’s work to see the light of day. He agreed to stay until work on the album was completed, on the condition that he did both his, and Steve’s guitar parts. We weren’t bringing in anyone else to do Steve’s work. It was his tribute to him.
We finally got him to see that there was no sense letting Steve’s dream die with him. And to Phil, anymore, that’s what Def Leppard is. Steve’s dream.
He spent a lot of time with Joe and I at first. I think because it made him feel closer to Steve. But after a while, he started spending all his time with Rick. I don’t know if they ever…were anything more than friends. I don’t think so. I think it was because being with Joe and I was just…harder. Made him remember what he had lost. And Vivian, well, Vivian wasn’t Steve, and he seemed to almost resent him for being there when Steve wasn’t. He tried, he really did. And he never does anything to make anyone aware of that resentment. But if you watch him, you can see it. He is literally lost without Steve.
I can’t help but feel, when we lost Steve, we lost not only him, but Phil as well. Phil is just taking longer to leave us.
Joe Elliot, Lead Vocals
I resent the fuck out of Steve for the things he did. I’ll admit it, to myself at least. I would never say it to the other guys, though. It would hurt not only Phil, but Sav as well were I to say something like that. Not to mention get Rick pissed at me.
But come on. The man had everything he could have wanted, and then some. So why was he battling depression? I just…don’t get it. He had fortune, fame, his dream job, the best relationship a person could ask for, he had everything. Yeah, so his Pop was a dick. What of it? Everyone has issues of “someone” not approving of them. He had long since proven him wrong.
Something about the man just wouldn’t go away for Steve, though. The only time he felt “alright” was when he was drunk. I suppose we should have paid more attention to that, instead of just leaving him to Phil to deal with. But frankly, we had other problems that seemed more serious.
What could be more serious? Rick’s car accident, for one. Sav and I were…having a few personal problems, for another. By the time things settled down and I realized how bad it was, there was no going back, and nothing to do but wait for the inevitable.
Could we have given him the time off earlier? It would have just made the inevitable happen that much sooner. Could we have fired him outright? I don’t think it would have taken months, if we had done that, it would have been immediately. Could we have forced him to stay in rehab somewhere? You can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. And that’s the bottom line.
Steve didn’t want to help himself. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the bloke. He was my band mate, my brother. But there was nothing any of us, with the exception of possibly Phil, could have done. So I did what I had to do. I pulled Sav as far away from him as possible in the attempt of making it hurt less.
Control freak? Maybe a little. But when it comes right down to it, that’s how we work. Everyone had their place in our little family, and we lasted so long because we were all fine with that place. I am the mouthpiece, as the lead singer, that’s expected, but then, I’m also a bit of a control freak, and like to be in charge of things. Phil and Steve were the outrageous ones, the ones who would ride a tandem bike into a hotel lobby to check in, or would go out and have their pictures taken holding hands, or kissing, just because they could. Rick, he’s our stability. He may be the baby of us, but he’s the one who was there for anyone who needed him. An open ear, a bit of compassion. Vivian is our peacemaker. And Sav, he’s our backbone. He’s the one who sits back and watches everyone, draws us in when we try to go to far out there, or try to take something too far. Him and Steve were also the sensitive ones.
Sav founded this band out of nothing. Him and Pete took me in when I thought there was no chance, and I was stuck in the factories for life. Steve was next, and he was a damn good guitarist, he could make you feel anything. We were leery of accepting Rick, as young as he was when we all started out, a babe in arms, almost. The kid was like 15, but it was one of the best decisions we ever made. The only one we ever made that was better was when Sav and I found Phil after we sacked Pete. He completed our set, and honestly, he was the one thing, I honestly believe, that kept Steve with us as long as we had him.
Some say we’re cursed. I don’t believe that, though. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Pete was an abrasive alcoholic, and we fired him. We fired him in the middle of a tour, but in his place we got Phil. And Phil completed the band in a way Pete never could have. Not to mention the way he completed Steve, gave him the confidence to be what we all knew he had in him. The next curse was Rick’s accident. It may have held back our “Hysteria” album, but in retrospect, it allowed us to wait for Mutt to be free to produce it, and made us stronger as a unit. Steve’s death is honestly the hardest one to accept, but he was a grown man who made his own decisions. I think what that proved to us was that we could carry on, under any circumstances, we as a unit will go on. Sav’s Bell’s Palsy, it was another hard hit, because he had to learn how to do so many things all over again, but from the way he treated it, you would think there was nothing the matter.
Vivian is not Steve. He never will be, but he’s one of us. He has been for 16 years now. We’ll always miss Steve, but he’s gone, and we carried on.
Phil Collen, Co-Lead Guitar
I miss him. There’s not a day that passes when I don’t think about him. Memories, they cloud my mind at night when the day’s pressures and distractions are over. It’s gotten a little easier. When he first passed away, all I wanted was…to join him on the other side. I actually tried several times, but I’ll get to that in a moment.
I remember the first time I met him. Sav and Joe had scouted out the band I was in at the time, “Girls”, and asked me to join “Leppard”. I went for my audition, and he was there. From the moment my eyes met his, I knew there was something there. He didn’t want me in the band at first. His insecurities kicked in and he walked out of the audition. I followed him, and I talked him around to accepting me. That’s when the infamous Million pounds bet happened.
We hit it off famously after that. The “Terror Twins”, that’s what we called ourselves. Others called us that, too. Where one of us was, the other was right there. We drank together, we played together, we dated together, we shopped together, we ate together, we roomed together. We slept together.
That’s one of the most haunting memories I have, the first time that happened. Steve and I had been inseparable for near to 6 months. We had gone from a nothing band touring England, to an opening act in the Colonies, to a legitimate headlining act in our own right with the release of “Rock of Ages”. When we got the call from Mutt telling us “Pyromania” had gone gold, Steve and I went out to celebrate.
We didn’t drink as much as we usually did that night, I guess. Or maybe it’s what happened after we stumbled into our hotel room that makes me able to remember it perfectly, in stunning Technicolor detail. Either way, I remember every second of that first night with a crystal clarity matched only by the clarity of which I remember our last time together, only 4 days before he died. I remember the soft, hesitant touch of his calloused hands. I remember the sweet taste of his mouth as he accepted, encouraged my kisses. I remember the sweet, musky scent. I remember the feel of his body under mine, silken steel. We fumbled through that first encounter, neither of us really knowing exactly what we were doing, but we figured it out together. And oh, how we figured it out. Nothing before, or since, him has ever felt as perfect as the two of us together.
And there was none of the awkwardness that one would expect after it. Instead, it simply felt right. Like we had put that last piece of the puzzle in there where it fit, and everything was the way it was supposed to be. For the rest of the tour, we didn’t drink nearly as much. We were still crazy, still did everything together, but we had better things to do with our off time than get blasted.
And then the tour ended, and we went home. We should have been more careful at home. We shouldn’t have carried on with our antics there. His Pop found out, and the things he said to Steve…they made me want to kill him. To this day, that is the only person in the world I hate. Needless to say, the drinking started back up. Even moving to London didn’t help.
By this point, we were in too deep, and then Rick had his car accident. We were already in debt out our bums, and it was one setback after another. Joe’s mumps, Rick’s accident, we couldn’t find a producer who was worth his salt when compared to Mutt.
Then one day, right before Rick got out of the hospital, Joe came over and dragged Steve and I out of bed. We had evidently borrowed his car the night before, and gotten plastered. I came to the realization that I needed to stop. It wasn’t what I was doing to myself that I was really worried about, it was the fact I could have hurt someone.
I could have hurt Steve.
I battled with it for a while. Steve cut back a lot about that time, too. One thing no one seems to understand. There was no sense of abandonment. There was no resentment. Steve supported me fully in my decision. And then I started social drinking. Social drinking turned back into a bottle of Jack. Steve and I went into rehab together the first time. I stayed clean. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. The demons were just too much for him to bear.
And then we were back on tour. It wasn’t that bad when we were on tour. It never was. Steve wouldn’t drink before a show. Even in our heaviest days, he wouldn’t drink before a show. But eventually, the tour had to end.
By this time, Steve was shaky. He couldn’t hold himself together. He hated drinking, he would tell me that all the time. But he couldn’t stop. The withdrawals were too bad, and we had too much stuff to do for another stint in rehab. We should have made the time for it. We should have put our feet down with Joe and told him it was necessary, and if he didn’t like it, he could find himself another pair of guitarists. But we thought that we had time.
Joe. I hated him, at first. He wanted to kick Steve out of the band. Sav and Rick wouldn’t let him, though. I think they knew if he did, I was gone, too. So instead, while we were writing the “Adrenalize” album, they gave him a 6 month leave of absence. Time to try to get things together.
I remember it with crystal clarity. Steve had been in an accident and broken his rib. He wasn’t allowed to fly, so I was going to Rick’s place in LA by myself. Steve and I made love, and it was absolutely perfect. He was sober as the day he was born; it was sweet, romantic, candles and roses, soft music and sweet words of love. It was like he knew it would be our last time, and he wanted it to be perfect for us, but there was no way he could have known.
I got the call the morning I was getting ready to come home. He had been found on the couch, unconscious. I changed my flight plan to leave immediately, but still, by the time I got there, it was over.
Steve Cark. My best friend. My Brother. My Lover. My musical soul mate. My other half. Steve had passed away.
My only thought in those first few weeks was that I wanted to go with him. I hit the bottle hard again, trying in a way to take myself out that way. I took pills. I slit my wrists. I did so many things in that haze of grief and pain to try to join him. But it just wasn’t meant to be.
Joe and Sav took me to stay with them after the funeral. They wouldn’t let me be alone. I think they knew if I was, the next call they would have gotten was me. After a few weeks, I realized I would be with him again, one day, on the other side. It didn’t make the pain less, but it stopped me from trying to hurry it up.
Honesty time. The thing that stopped it. I was on the floor in Sav’s bathroom, a razor in my hand and a bottle of Jack in the other, a picture of Steve in my lap. It’s one of many that I have on my mantle to this day. In it, we are holding hands and looking back over our shoulders at the camera. Steve in the picture started talking to me. He told me that he loved and missed me too, but he was always with me. He was in my heart. I carried him with me everywhere, and everything I did, I did for the both of us. He also told me that I would be with him again when it was time, but if I tried to hurry it up, we would be apart forever. He said he was waiting for me. And it was so beautiful there. No pain, no depression, just the sweetest music, and the promise of forever.
I had to leave Joe and Sav. It was just…too much of a reminder of what I didn’t have anymore. I seriously considered leaving the band completely at that point. It was Rick that talked me out of it. He told me that Steve would want me to carry on. Steve would want me to make sure his music got out there.
So we recorded “Adrenalize”. We kept the stuff Steve had already recorded. It was one of my requirements. The other was that I would do all the guitars on the album. We wouldn’t be replacing him.
They say time makes it easier. It doesn’t, though. Every day, it gets harder and harder to carry on without him. The only reason I stay with the band is that it was Steve’s dream. He believed in “Leppard” and saw it as one of the greatest bands of all time. So I stick it out, when every day I just want to quit. For Steve. To make his dream a reality.
I don’t hate Vivian. And I don’t resent him, despite popular opinion. I don’t really have any positive or negative feelings about him. He’s just…not Steve, and that’s all that matters to me. I look up at the other side of the stage whenever we perform, and when it’s not Steve there, I just…close my eyes and feel him in my heart, hear his voice in my head.
But you know what? I saw him in that picture again last night. He says soon. I’ll be with him again soon. He’s still waiting for me. He looks just the same as he did back then, too. Beautiful, ethereal, a little shy, but his eyes radiate…forever. I just have to believe.
End.
Author: LadyLissa
Fandom: Rock (Def Leppard)
Characters: Rick, Joe, Sav, Viv, Phil, mentions of Steve
Content: Angst, m/m relationships, mentions of m/m sex
SLash/Het/Mixed: slash
Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue
Distribution: KliqzCamelot, otherwise ask and ye shall probably receive
Rating: NC-17, just to be safe
Any Notes? Heavily based on two separate things. The first being an interview I read with Phil over on DefLeppard.com done about a year ago. The second being the video for the song “Miss You in a Heartbeat”. The symbolism in this song is astounding, and very painful, if you get it. For those of you who have not seen, or do not remember the video, it is one of the ones right after Steve’s death. The entire band is playing in separate rooms in a house, with the exception of Phil, who is playing on a bench in front of what appears to be a cemetery.
Rick Allen, Drums
Steve’s death hit all of us hard. Admittedly, none of us felt it quite as bad as Phil did, but we were all upset by it. I remember getting the call in the late afternoon, January 8, 1991. We were working on our new album, “Adrenalize”. Steve had been given a 6 month leave of absence to get his shit straight, as Joe put it.
Joe had been all for just…dropping him, I guess. Like we had done with Pete. That didn’t work with Steve, though. Everyone knew, if Steve was kicked out, Phil was going with him. The two of them, they were a package deal. Tea and biscuits, fish and chips, or more fitting for the two of them, Gin and Tonic. You didn’t have one without the other. The Terror Twins.
Steve had been battling alcoholism for years. Publicly, he battled it from around ’87 or ’88 until his death in ’91. Privately, however, Steve had been battling it from the time I met him. Longer, actually.
The 5 of us were a close knit little family. I mean, come on, we would have to be, right? If we weren’t, would I still be with the band? Do you know of any other one armed drummers out there? But I guess, when it comes right down to it, I’m the one with the most of an “outsiders viewpoint” on the matter. I could see it coming. I think Joe could too, and that’s why he tried to pull Sav and himself away from Steve before it happened. Give them the space they needed. Because we all know Sav, he’s the emotional one of us all. But there was no pulling Phil away. And there was no pulling me away, either.
Steve and Phil were the ones who used to come visit me every day when I was in the hospital, fighting for my life, and then for my career when I was in the car accident. Steve used to sit with me and tell me stories, stories I don’t think anyone else knew, except for maybe Phil. Stories of the things he had been through in his life. He would sit there and tell me his hopes, his dreams, his fears, anything and everything. The rest of the guys, they were too busy trying to be upbeat and pretend that everything was alright, but not Steve. I think maybe he knew that if they all treated me like a piece of broken glass, I was never going to get any better.
In the months following his death, we were all rather broken hearted, but we decided we had to pull through and keep going. We couldn’t let our dream…Steve’s dream…die with him. We considered just doing it as the four of us, letting Joe play rhythm guitar when needed as well as sing. But that wasn’t our sound. We eventually got Vivian. It wasn’t quite the same. I think, to this day, 16 years later, poor Vivian feels like an outsider. He’s not, though. He’s one of us. But he’s not Steve. No one ever will be.
Vivian Campbell, Co-Lead Guitar
I had met the other guys before Steve’s death, a few times. I can’t say I knew any of them that well, but I knew of them.
I got a call not too long after their “Adrenalize” album was finished, telling me they were interviewing for a new guitarist. When I went in for the audition, I noticed something. Every guy there trying out was trying to be Steve Clark, instead of doing their own sound. And with every attempt, Phil looked more and more down.
I later found out that Phil had been heavily considering leaving the band with Steve’s death, though at the time, all I knew was that if I wanted the position, the last thing I should do was be anther Steve Clark tribute.
I was welcomed into the band almost immediately. Accepted, however, that was an entirely different matter. I was “the new guy”, “the replacement”, and the fans even more than the band themselves never let me forget it.
I was eventually accepted, however. Rick was the first one to accept me. It was strange the way it happened, because it made me realize that he had accepted me long before I realized it. We were doing an interview and the guy asked how it felt to be Steve Clark’s replacement. Rick sat forward and informed him that I was no one’s “replacement”, I was “a Leppard in my own right, and people needed to get over that.” He went on to say that yes, they missed Steve, too, but it wasn’t fair to me to keep treating me like I was second best. After that, the others slowly came around. I think Rick’s little impromptu speech may have been more designed towards them than the fans, but any way you look at it, I’ll always be grateful to him for that.
Phil and I are still a little strained. I think we always will be. But then, Phil is a little stand-offish from everyone. He decided to stick it out, but I don’t think that means he likes it very much. They say he’s changed since Steve’s death. He’s not as happy. He’s not as friendly. He keeps everyone at arms length now.
All I know is that Steve Clark was a great man, and a great guitarist. Though, he was also a man haunted by personal demons. Demons I don’t think anyone else ever quite understood completely.
Rick Savage, Bass Guitar
Steve. He was a great friend. He was more than just that, though, he was my brother. All the guys are. Well, except Joe, because that would just be rather “wrong”, if you catch my drift. But any way you looked at it, we were all very close.
A few months before Steve died; he started drinking even more heavily. None of us really know why. Well, at least none of us know and will say why. I think Phil knows, but he never said. He just said it was personal, and it was up to Steve to tell us. Whether he ever would have or not, I guess we’ll never know. I like to think he would, though.
Any which way you look at it, though, we decided to give him 6 months off. We could afford it. We were, for the most part, in the writing process of our last album he would be a part of, “Adrenalize”. Everyone kind of needed the break anyway.
In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t the best of ideas. Maybe if he hadn’t been on break he wouldn’t have done it. He always did better when all of us were together. Or at least when him and Phil were together. I think Phil blames himself for it. He shouldn’t, though. If he had even guessed Steve needed him, he would have been there faster than you can blink. I guess I can understand that guilt in a way, because I feel it, a little bit, as well.
We should have done more. We should have tried harder. We should have forced him to stay in one of the rehab centers instead of letting him keep checking himself out. Hind sight is 20/20 they say.
When Steve died, we all had a long talk about what we were going to do. Phil, he wanted to quit. The only reason he stuck it out in the beginning was because he wanted the last of Steve’s work to see the light of day. He agreed to stay until work on the album was completed, on the condition that he did both his, and Steve’s guitar parts. We weren’t bringing in anyone else to do Steve’s work. It was his tribute to him.
We finally got him to see that there was no sense letting Steve’s dream die with him. And to Phil, anymore, that’s what Def Leppard is. Steve’s dream.
He spent a lot of time with Joe and I at first. I think because it made him feel closer to Steve. But after a while, he started spending all his time with Rick. I don’t know if they ever…were anything more than friends. I don’t think so. I think it was because being with Joe and I was just…harder. Made him remember what he had lost. And Vivian, well, Vivian wasn’t Steve, and he seemed to almost resent him for being there when Steve wasn’t. He tried, he really did. And he never does anything to make anyone aware of that resentment. But if you watch him, you can see it. He is literally lost without Steve.
I can’t help but feel, when we lost Steve, we lost not only him, but Phil as well. Phil is just taking longer to leave us.
Joe Elliot, Lead Vocals
I resent the fuck out of Steve for the things he did. I’ll admit it, to myself at least. I would never say it to the other guys, though. It would hurt not only Phil, but Sav as well were I to say something like that. Not to mention get Rick pissed at me.
But come on. The man had everything he could have wanted, and then some. So why was he battling depression? I just…don’t get it. He had fortune, fame, his dream job, the best relationship a person could ask for, he had everything. Yeah, so his Pop was a dick. What of it? Everyone has issues of “someone” not approving of them. He had long since proven him wrong.
Something about the man just wouldn’t go away for Steve, though. The only time he felt “alright” was when he was drunk. I suppose we should have paid more attention to that, instead of just leaving him to Phil to deal with. But frankly, we had other problems that seemed more serious.
What could be more serious? Rick’s car accident, for one. Sav and I were…having a few personal problems, for another. By the time things settled down and I realized how bad it was, there was no going back, and nothing to do but wait for the inevitable.
Could we have given him the time off earlier? It would have just made the inevitable happen that much sooner. Could we have fired him outright? I don’t think it would have taken months, if we had done that, it would have been immediately. Could we have forced him to stay in rehab somewhere? You can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. And that’s the bottom line.
Steve didn’t want to help himself. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the bloke. He was my band mate, my brother. But there was nothing any of us, with the exception of possibly Phil, could have done. So I did what I had to do. I pulled Sav as far away from him as possible in the attempt of making it hurt less.
Control freak? Maybe a little. But when it comes right down to it, that’s how we work. Everyone had their place in our little family, and we lasted so long because we were all fine with that place. I am the mouthpiece, as the lead singer, that’s expected, but then, I’m also a bit of a control freak, and like to be in charge of things. Phil and Steve were the outrageous ones, the ones who would ride a tandem bike into a hotel lobby to check in, or would go out and have their pictures taken holding hands, or kissing, just because they could. Rick, he’s our stability. He may be the baby of us, but he’s the one who was there for anyone who needed him. An open ear, a bit of compassion. Vivian is our peacemaker. And Sav, he’s our backbone. He’s the one who sits back and watches everyone, draws us in when we try to go to far out there, or try to take something too far. Him and Steve were also the sensitive ones.
Sav founded this band out of nothing. Him and Pete took me in when I thought there was no chance, and I was stuck in the factories for life. Steve was next, and he was a damn good guitarist, he could make you feel anything. We were leery of accepting Rick, as young as he was when we all started out, a babe in arms, almost. The kid was like 15, but it was one of the best decisions we ever made. The only one we ever made that was better was when Sav and I found Phil after we sacked Pete. He completed our set, and honestly, he was the one thing, I honestly believe, that kept Steve with us as long as we had him.
Some say we’re cursed. I don’t believe that, though. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Pete was an abrasive alcoholic, and we fired him. We fired him in the middle of a tour, but in his place we got Phil. And Phil completed the band in a way Pete never could have. Not to mention the way he completed Steve, gave him the confidence to be what we all knew he had in him. The next curse was Rick’s accident. It may have held back our “Hysteria” album, but in retrospect, it allowed us to wait for Mutt to be free to produce it, and made us stronger as a unit. Steve’s death is honestly the hardest one to accept, but he was a grown man who made his own decisions. I think what that proved to us was that we could carry on, under any circumstances, we as a unit will go on. Sav’s Bell’s Palsy, it was another hard hit, because he had to learn how to do so many things all over again, but from the way he treated it, you would think there was nothing the matter.
Vivian is not Steve. He never will be, but he’s one of us. He has been for 16 years now. We’ll always miss Steve, but he’s gone, and we carried on.
Phil Collen, Co-Lead Guitar
I miss him. There’s not a day that passes when I don’t think about him. Memories, they cloud my mind at night when the day’s pressures and distractions are over. It’s gotten a little easier. When he first passed away, all I wanted was…to join him on the other side. I actually tried several times, but I’ll get to that in a moment.
I remember the first time I met him. Sav and Joe had scouted out the band I was in at the time, “Girls”, and asked me to join “Leppard”. I went for my audition, and he was there. From the moment my eyes met his, I knew there was something there. He didn’t want me in the band at first. His insecurities kicked in and he walked out of the audition. I followed him, and I talked him around to accepting me. That’s when the infamous Million pounds bet happened.
We hit it off famously after that. The “Terror Twins”, that’s what we called ourselves. Others called us that, too. Where one of us was, the other was right there. We drank together, we played together, we dated together, we shopped together, we ate together, we roomed together. We slept together.
That’s one of the most haunting memories I have, the first time that happened. Steve and I had been inseparable for near to 6 months. We had gone from a nothing band touring England, to an opening act in the Colonies, to a legitimate headlining act in our own right with the release of “Rock of Ages”. When we got the call from Mutt telling us “Pyromania” had gone gold, Steve and I went out to celebrate.
We didn’t drink as much as we usually did that night, I guess. Or maybe it’s what happened after we stumbled into our hotel room that makes me able to remember it perfectly, in stunning Technicolor detail. Either way, I remember every second of that first night with a crystal clarity matched only by the clarity of which I remember our last time together, only 4 days before he died. I remember the soft, hesitant touch of his calloused hands. I remember the sweet taste of his mouth as he accepted, encouraged my kisses. I remember the sweet, musky scent. I remember the feel of his body under mine, silken steel. We fumbled through that first encounter, neither of us really knowing exactly what we were doing, but we figured it out together. And oh, how we figured it out. Nothing before, or since, him has ever felt as perfect as the two of us together.
And there was none of the awkwardness that one would expect after it. Instead, it simply felt right. Like we had put that last piece of the puzzle in there where it fit, and everything was the way it was supposed to be. For the rest of the tour, we didn’t drink nearly as much. We were still crazy, still did everything together, but we had better things to do with our off time than get blasted.
And then the tour ended, and we went home. We should have been more careful at home. We shouldn’t have carried on with our antics there. His Pop found out, and the things he said to Steve…they made me want to kill him. To this day, that is the only person in the world I hate. Needless to say, the drinking started back up. Even moving to London didn’t help.
By this point, we were in too deep, and then Rick had his car accident. We were already in debt out our bums, and it was one setback after another. Joe’s mumps, Rick’s accident, we couldn’t find a producer who was worth his salt when compared to Mutt.
Then one day, right before Rick got out of the hospital, Joe came over and dragged Steve and I out of bed. We had evidently borrowed his car the night before, and gotten plastered. I came to the realization that I needed to stop. It wasn’t what I was doing to myself that I was really worried about, it was the fact I could have hurt someone.
I could have hurt Steve.
I battled with it for a while. Steve cut back a lot about that time, too. One thing no one seems to understand. There was no sense of abandonment. There was no resentment. Steve supported me fully in my decision. And then I started social drinking. Social drinking turned back into a bottle of Jack. Steve and I went into rehab together the first time. I stayed clean. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. The demons were just too much for him to bear.
And then we were back on tour. It wasn’t that bad when we were on tour. It never was. Steve wouldn’t drink before a show. Even in our heaviest days, he wouldn’t drink before a show. But eventually, the tour had to end.
By this time, Steve was shaky. He couldn’t hold himself together. He hated drinking, he would tell me that all the time. But he couldn’t stop. The withdrawals were too bad, and we had too much stuff to do for another stint in rehab. We should have made the time for it. We should have put our feet down with Joe and told him it was necessary, and if he didn’t like it, he could find himself another pair of guitarists. But we thought that we had time.
Joe. I hated him, at first. He wanted to kick Steve out of the band. Sav and Rick wouldn’t let him, though. I think they knew if he did, I was gone, too. So instead, while we were writing the “Adrenalize” album, they gave him a 6 month leave of absence. Time to try to get things together.
I remember it with crystal clarity. Steve had been in an accident and broken his rib. He wasn’t allowed to fly, so I was going to Rick’s place in LA by myself. Steve and I made love, and it was absolutely perfect. He was sober as the day he was born; it was sweet, romantic, candles and roses, soft music and sweet words of love. It was like he knew it would be our last time, and he wanted it to be perfect for us, but there was no way he could have known.
I got the call the morning I was getting ready to come home. He had been found on the couch, unconscious. I changed my flight plan to leave immediately, but still, by the time I got there, it was over.
Steve Cark. My best friend. My Brother. My Lover. My musical soul mate. My other half. Steve had passed away.
My only thought in those first few weeks was that I wanted to go with him. I hit the bottle hard again, trying in a way to take myself out that way. I took pills. I slit my wrists. I did so many things in that haze of grief and pain to try to join him. But it just wasn’t meant to be.
Joe and Sav took me to stay with them after the funeral. They wouldn’t let me be alone. I think they knew if I was, the next call they would have gotten was me. After a few weeks, I realized I would be with him again, one day, on the other side. It didn’t make the pain less, but it stopped me from trying to hurry it up.
Honesty time. The thing that stopped it. I was on the floor in Sav’s bathroom, a razor in my hand and a bottle of Jack in the other, a picture of Steve in my lap. It’s one of many that I have on my mantle to this day. In it, we are holding hands and looking back over our shoulders at the camera. Steve in the picture started talking to me. He told me that he loved and missed me too, but he was always with me. He was in my heart. I carried him with me everywhere, and everything I did, I did for the both of us. He also told me that I would be with him again when it was time, but if I tried to hurry it up, we would be apart forever. He said he was waiting for me. And it was so beautiful there. No pain, no depression, just the sweetest music, and the promise of forever.
I had to leave Joe and Sav. It was just…too much of a reminder of what I didn’t have anymore. I seriously considered leaving the band completely at that point. It was Rick that talked me out of it. He told me that Steve would want me to carry on. Steve would want me to make sure his music got out there.
So we recorded “Adrenalize”. We kept the stuff Steve had already recorded. It was one of my requirements. The other was that I would do all the guitars on the album. We wouldn’t be replacing him.
They say time makes it easier. It doesn’t, though. Every day, it gets harder and harder to carry on without him. The only reason I stay with the band is that it was Steve’s dream. He believed in “Leppard” and saw it as one of the greatest bands of all time. So I stick it out, when every day I just want to quit. For Steve. To make his dream a reality.
I don’t hate Vivian. And I don’t resent him, despite popular opinion. I don’t really have any positive or negative feelings about him. He’s just…not Steve, and that’s all that matters to me. I look up at the other side of the stage whenever we perform, and when it’s not Steve there, I just…close my eyes and feel him in my heart, hear his voice in my head.
But you know what? I saw him in that picture again last night. He says soon. I’ll be with him again soon. He’s still waiting for me. He looks just the same as he did back then, too. Beautiful, ethereal, a little shy, but his eyes radiate…forever. I just have to believe.
End.
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