David Lee Roth now (Van Halen) (Photo courtesy of Aaron Richter)
By Corey Seymour for Vogue | David Lee Roth strolls into the Turret Penthouse of the Beekman hotel at dusk, nattily dressed in a slim three-piece suit of his own design in plaid wool flannel anchored by sturdy black boots. “Today, I’m 1920s Peaky Blinders,” he says, and within seconds, he’s very credibly quoting Schopenhauer and Mark Twain, telling me about his weekly visits to his mother, who’s suffering from Alzheimer’s, and seating himself at the head of a large table while an assistant pours him a Scotch on the rocks.
From 1978 to 1985, Roth was more often dressed in zebra-striped leotards, his long locks bleached and teased, as he fronted Van Halen, the era-defining band that sold more than 80 million records. Lately, though, he’s been fronting Ink The Original, the just-launched skin-care line specifically made to preserve, protect, and highlight tattoos and keep them from fading. How did he get from there to here? It’s a vastly circuitous and wildly entertaining story—but let’s let him tell it.
Who were your heroes when you were growing up?
For starters, they all wore suits to work. They didn’t have much to do with the frontman in Led Zeppelin, much as you might expect—they had more to do with Miles Davis, [Akira] Kurosawa, and P.T. Barnum. Let’s start there—that’s a power trio!
My mom was the critical vote in my family, always was—not Dad. All of the tough, the feisty, the scrappy, and the moxie comes from Mom. My day started with standing at attention and waiting for her to spin her finger—she wanted to see the back, and she’s gonna look down—you literally had to pull up your pant legs to show her your socks and your boots, and if they didn’t match your shit, she was liable to throw her grilled cheese sandwich at you.
This crucial element was an undercurrent to Van Halen. There’s a discipline to it and a seriousness that’s squired away a lot at times, but we came from a fiery, competitive background that has nothing to do with Woodstock or a hippie kind of element. And I love hippie, believe me. But we come from big-band cutting contests; Benny Goodman versus Chick Webb, tonight at Roseland: We’re going to play the same five songs—you white boys are going to play your arrangements of ’em, and then we’re going to kick your white ass right in front of your audience.
> > > > > > > > > >
When did you start becoming interested in tattoos?
I got my first tattoo 40 years ago, a little seahorse on my ankle, at a place called Cliff Raven Studio on Sunset Boulevard in ’77, ’78. That was very outré then—the only people who got tattoos then were bikers, rock ’n’ rollers to a small degree; the gay community was into it. Eventually, though, I took a much more gentrified approach: I waited until I was 60 and got the whole Japanese tuxedo. It took me 300 hours of sitting over two years. But I planned it for the 30 years prior, and it’s my design: kabuki faces, the original showbiz, rendered Edo style—it looks like a woodblock print.
> > > > > > > > > >
And I’ll tell you something else. Up until 18 months ago, I was making pennies in royalty on a $20 Van Halen record.
What does that mean?
It means I got butchered 40 years ago. I made over a billion dollars for Warner Bros. I watched my whole fortune walk off into another man’s pocket. However far we get with [Laugh to Win], I did it as a free man. I spent my own money. I built the team. This is my shot. This is the second half of the Super Bowl. And whatever happens? I’m a free motherfucker!
Read the whole article here:
https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/131-totally-uncensored-minutes-david-182733288.html