Adams recalled his first visit to Hollywood Boulevard at age 16.
“Marveling at the stars and being part of it" never entered his mind, he said at the ceremony, which was cut short due to the rain. Adams added that he was "humbled" by the honor.
He thanked his family for being supportive over the years, as well as his manager Bruce Allen, whom he said was “part of my family.”
He also credited late photographer Herb Ritts.
National Hockey League icon (and fellow Canadian) Wayne Gretzky spoke at the ceremony, praising Adams for his music over the years and his charity work. “On behalf of all Canadians congratulations to you and your entire family," Gretsky said.
Adams recently returned from India where he played several sold-out shows. He is set to perform songs from his latest album, Bare Bones, Apr. 9 at UCLA’s Royce Hall.
Adams joins other Canadians who have recently received stars, including James Cameron and members from the rock band Rush.
Some people have a negative reaction when they hear cover songs of one of their favorite artists. On the other hand, there are other cover versions that are so identified with the singer, many people don't even realize someone else did it before. Here are examples of cover songs where we've discovered, recovered and uncovered the original versions.
'Hallelujah,' Jeff Buckley
Buckley recorded his signature song for 1994's 'Grace,' the only album released during his brief lifetime. Accordingly, he never lived to see dozens of television shows using the song to underscore some sappy moment. The song was originally written and performed by Leonard Cohen 10 years earlier, but Buckley actually based his rendition on John Cale's version from a tribute album to the legendary Canadian singer-songwriter.
'Hound Dog,' Elvis Presley
'Hound Dog' is so equated with Elvis it practically became his middle name. Rolling Stone ranked the King's 1956 worldwide No. 1 hit as the 19th greatest song of all time. Four years before Elvis, the song was recorded for the first time by blues belter Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton portraying a fed-up woman putting her foot down about her no-good man -- with no mention of catching rabbits in it whatsoever.
'Respect,' Aretha Franklin
Any mention of respect may result in somebody spelling out R-E-S-P-E-C-T à la the classic Aretha Franklin song, but the classic Aretha Franklin song is not actually an Aretha Franklin song. This proto-feminist 1967 soul anthem was originally written and sung by Otis Redding two year earlier as a man's request to his old lady for some stress relief of the amorous sort after a hard day's work.
'Achy Breaky Heart,' Billy Ray Cyrus
The 1992 hit that put Hannah Montana's pops on the map wasn't even his own song -- and, no, the Alvin and the Chipmunks version wasn't the original, either. 'Achy Breaky Heart,' then titled 'Don't Tell My Heart,' was originally recorded by the Marcy Brothers in 1991 after the Oak Ridge Boys passed on it: Reportedly, the Boys objected to singing the words "achy breaky," thinking them kinda dumb.
'A Piece of My Heart,' Janis Joplin
Country fans will recognize 'A Piece of My Heart' from Faith Hill's 1993 hit. Classic-rock lovers will point out that it was originally recorded in 1968 by Janis Joplin -- but they would be wrong. The first version of the song was by Erma Franklin, who happens to be the sister of Aretha, two years before Joplin.
'Twist and Shout,' The Beatles
The closing song off the Fab Four's 1963 debut LP, 'Please Please Me,' has become the definitive version, due mainly to John Lennon's full-throated vocals. They learned it from the Isley Brothers' hit from a year before, but the R&B trio didn't originate 'Twist and Shout,' either. They're both cover songs, as the Top Notes did it first, but the feeling was that it was poorly produced -- by a pre-Wall of Sound Phil Spector, no less -- so its songwriter, Bert Berns, took the song to the Isleys to cover.
'Nothing Compares 2 U,' Sinéad O'Connor
O'Connor, everybody's favorite bald, female Irish singer, hit No. 1 worldwide in 1990 with the Prince-penned 'Nothing Compares 2 U.' Though His Royal Badness has written songs specifically for some artists, 'Nothing' was actually created for a 1985 album by a group he formed called the Family, who would make just that one album. Their original version of 'Nothing Compares 2 U' received little attention, and wasn't even issued as a single.
'Wild Thing,' The Troggs
The grungy, international garage-rock smash 'Wild Thing' (the 1966 hit featured in the movie 'Major League,' not the one by Tone-Loc) was pretty much tailor-made for the crude and rude Brit rockers known as the Troggs. In fact, the song, written by Chip Taylor (Angelina Jolie's uncle, by the way), was originally unleashed upon the world a year earlier by a New York combo appropriately called the Wild Ones, to the world's indifference.
'Have I Told You Lately,' Rod Stewart
In 1993, Stewart hit No. 5 on the US and UK singles charts by crooning this romantic ballad. However, the next time you hear this performed by some slick wedding band, don't give Rod the Mod the full blame: Four years earlier, Van Morrison wrote and recorded the original version, which didn't make quite the same impact.
'Turn, Turn, Turn (To Everything There Is a Season),' The Byrds
'Turn, Turn, Turn' was the second and final US No. 1 hit for the L.A.-based band that pretty much invented folk rock. The 1965 Byrds' version is actually a cover of a song written in 1959 by Pete Seeger -- with more than a small lyrical assist from the Bible's Book of Ecclesiastes -- and released on the folk legend's 1962 album 'The Bitter and the Sweet.'
'(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,' Elvis Costello and the Attractions
Costello's recording of 'Peace, Love and Understanding' anchors the US version of his 1979 LP, 'Armed Forces,' as well as many a Costello live performance. This plea for world harmony didn't emanate from the typically acid pen of the man born Declan MacManus, though: It was originally written by Costello's producer, Nick Lowe, and recorded by Lowe's former band Brinsley Schwarz in 1974.
'Love Hurts,' Nazareth
After these Scottish hard rockers released 'Love Hurts' in 1976, everybody who had a broken heart would sit in their room and blast it as the tears strolled down their face. Nazareth's cover was the only hit version of this now classic tune: The original was recorded by the Everly Brothers in 1960 and issued as an album track; a year later, Roy Orbison put it out as the B side to his smash hit 'Running Scared.'
'Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood,' The Animals
In 2003, the soundtrack to the Quentin Tarantino film 'Kill Bill Vol. 1' contained a Latin-ized version of 'Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood' from 1977, by Santa Esmeralda. Some people commented that it was previously a Joe Cocker song from 1969; others pointed out that it goes much further back, to 1965 and the Animals. The truth is, those are both cover songs: The original was by Nina Simone, from the jazz diva's 1964 LP 'Broadway-Blues-Ballads.'
'Hurt,' Johnny Cash
The deeply melancholy 'Hurt' was one of the Man in Black's final hits, in a career of many big musical statements, just a year before his 2003 death. However, the song appeared on an album, 'American IV: The Man Comes Around,' that was all cover songs. 'Hurt' is actually a product of the Trent Reznor songbook, making its debut on Nine Inch Nails' 1994 album, 'The Downward Spiral.'
'You've Got a Friend,' James Taylor
Taylor reached No. 1 on the US singles charts and Top 5 UK in 1971 with 'You've Got a Friend,' also garnering a Grammy for Best Male Pop Vocal Performance. Carole King wrote the song and released it just months before on her mega-selling 'Tapestry' LP. King didn't begrudge Taylor's Grammy win one bit, as she received one herself for 'Friend,' as author of the Song of the Year.
Beginning in the 1960s, Herb Wise used his two music degrees, from UCLA and Syracuse University, to great, if not typical, effect. Joining Oak Publications as a staff photographer, he was tasked to get images to accompany a variety of rock, folk, blues and jazz books. Wise used his knowledge of music theory to help him with his timing of when to get the best shots of performers. Now, in concert with the recent release of 'People You'd Like to Know: Legendary Musicians Photographed by Herb Wise,' a comprehensive collection of his groundbreaking photography from the '60s through the '80s, the master lensman has taken the time to share, in his own words, his memories of and insights on a specially curated gallery of his most iconic pictures.
Michael Ochs Archives / Getty Images
"As a photographer, we take pictures in one-thirtieth of a second, and frequently we don't have direct contact with the artist other than the situation. We might be at a festival, and the weather is nice, and the music is great, but there's not a lot I can tell you about the artist. I can only tell you certain stories about things that happened along the way." --Herb Wise
Although Herb Wise is a man who prefers to have his photographs do the talking, the iconic images he has captured of musical legends of all walks tell a grand tale. Wise got his start as a lensman in the 1960s for Oak Publications, where he gained fame for making the rounds of rock, blues and folk festivals throughout the '60s and well into the '80s, cameras at the ready. He even used his renown to get invited into the homes of many well-known performers, capturing intimate portraits of artists rarely seen in their private moments.
The Brooklyn, N.Y.-born Wise, who currently resides in the Hollywood Hills of L.A. with his dog, Dawg, has recently compiled three decades' worth of photos and memories in his recent book 'People You'd Like to Know: Legendary Musicians Photographed by Herb Wise,' published by Omnibus Press.
What follows are Wise's thoughts and reminiscences on the photos curated for this unique gallery:
James Taylor. 1971: Yeah, James Taylor. You know, James has a history. He was North Carolinian, and I think he was very disturbed at an early age, I don't know if it was because of drugs or it was otherwise. His father was a doctor, and he was put into an institution. He had just come out, and this was, I think, one of the first places that he played, and he played 'Fire and Rain,' which was autobiographical. It was very powerful.
Carole King, 1971: Actually, I was photographing someone else at the time. I didn't know Carole King. I think that was just about the time of her 'Tapestry' recording, maybe even before, and she wasn't known, but she got in the way of my lens, and she did look young. She's a focused lady.
Frank Zappa, 1976: His family lives down the street from me on Woodrow Wilson Drive [in L.A.]. He was always in the Village and he was with the Mothers of Invention. When I took that picture he was performing at the 'Dick Cavett Show.' I went onstage for the rehearsal, they were working out, I'll never forget this, I was so put off by it. I got on the little platform, the little riser, it was about nine inches from the ground and I stood up to take a little better shot of it, a little wider shot, and some stagehand came over to me and he said, "Are you in the union?" I said "No, I'm not in the union." He said "Then get the hell off that riser!" That's my remembrance of Frank Zappa.
I was so put off by that stagehand that I left. I'm easily bruised. 'Cause those guys get rough, you know. Those stagehands can get very rough, I've found. was doing a video of Blood Sweat and Tears once and they threw me off the stage because I had camera equipment, so I had to fly up to Boston to get them, where those stagehands were less concerned.
Bobby Womack, 1973: You know, if you asked me to take pictures of baseball players, I wouldn't know what to do. Each person has their own specialty, and mine just happens to be music. And I know when the guys are gonna sing, and when they're gonna give a downstroke on the guitar or change their fingering on the trumpet and so forth. That's my little area of expertise. I've seen press photographers take terrible pictures by jumping onstage during a performance and they never seem to get the beat right. It's a matter of timing, but I guess I'm good at that. [Bobby Womack] was looking everywhere, but I caught him at the time that he was looking at me.
Steve Winwood, 1970: He was at a cocktail party at the New York Hilton. I don't know what the occasion was, but there were a group of people, and he was one of them. He was funny. That's when he was Stevie Winwood. Then he called us one day and he said "No, it's no longer Stevie, it's Steve." He grew up in a hurry.
Deborah Harry, 1979: I was actually going for somebody else that was in front of her. It was in Central Park, at the ice skating ring, and they set up the stage. I was doing a job for something and then she came on, and I got she and Nick Lowe and her other musician, I forget the name. She was wildly popular at the time. She was related to somebody that I knew, so I figured it was an obligation to take her picture.
Sonny Terry, 1980: Isn't that amazing? Well, he and Brownie [McGhee], of course, were the famous team. From what I understand, they hated each other. They played together for 40 years. Maybe after 40 years you sorta start to hate your partner, I don't know. He had all keys, you can't transpose with blues harp, you have to use a different key, and that's why he has that whole rack of harps.
Taj Mahal, 1971: That's an interesting story because a woman came to me one day, she was the producer of Big Sur Festival, a folk festival. I was in the music business, and I used to take pictures for music books. She came to me and said, "It might be interesting to you to know that we're putting on the last Big Sur Festival, but we don't have the money, and we'd like to know whether or not you could support us." And I said, "Well, what do you need?" And she said, "I need $50,000," and I said, "Well, OK. What rights do you have to these performers? Have you signed them up, can you use their names, what's going on?" She said, "I have all rights, they're all friends of mine: Taj Mahal, Joan Baez, Kris Kristofferson." Everyone that you can imagine, she signed them all up. I said, "Well, do you have recording rights?" She said, "We have everything. We can do an album, we can do anything we want." I said, "Follow me." So we went across the street to Columbia Records, to my friend Clive Davis, and I said, "Clive, listen to this," and he said Columbia would give them the $50,000, but they wanted Blood Sweat and Tears to appear. And she said, "Well, for $50,000, they're not folky, but sure, bring 'em along," and we put on the concert. Of course for $50,000 I got very good treatment, with access everywhere.
Roger Sprung, 1974: Sprung is a pretty well-known banjo player. He always performed at festivals. It's a picture of the Dulcimer Grove at one festival, might have been Philadelphia. I use that just to show the audience, so enraptured of him, and the scene. It's really a peaceful scene. Really lovely. Roger Sprung. He's the guy in the black hat, standing onstage, second from the right. The kid to our left is a young protégé. These are all the performers, this is not a band, this is just a group of performers who got together and decided they were gonna play one afternoon. And it was really nice.
Pete Seeger, 1978: You know, there was a wonderful artist. Pete is the spearhead of the folk movement, very prominent. I sent him a copy of my book, which I thought was really interesting because he knows everybody in it and I thought it would be nice for him to look at it, and I got a letter back from him saying, "Dear Herb ..." You know, he's 90-some-odd years old now and he can't write to all the people who write to him because he gets a deluge of notes and requests for interviews and filming and whatever, so he has this letter, it's a printed letter, and it says, "Dear friend" -- which I though was sort of interesting -- "I've gotten so many requests for personal interviews.... Unfortunately I'm not in a position to do that. So I have to write this and I apologize for being so formal about it, but that's what I have to do." So when he got my book instead of "Dear friend," he crossed out "friend." He said, "Dear Herb," which I thought was very nice, and then he wrote across the top and he says, "Beautiful book" -- that was the best critique I had.
Lou Reed, 1973: I like performance shots. They're very difficult, particularly in those situations where they're not set up for video. They light the stage just for the audience, and there's a mystery to the lighting. You come in and out of lighting, in and out of the spotlight, it's very difficult for the photographer, and it's particularly difficult unless you're onstage. I was onstage at that time. If you're not onstage and you're photographing from below, it really makes it difficult. But he's a good performer. He's a real pro.
Candy Darling, 1973: We were at a Lou Reed concert, and they were devotees -- they were hanging out, waiting for him to finish. I actually didn't know their names. I knew their faces, I knew their bodies, but I didn't know them and I never met them before. They were weird-looking. And they are. And that's why I snapped them. It was part of the back room scene.
I think there are some great photographs in the book, but a lot of them are a moment, capturing somebody during the period when they were popular or exhibited some exhibition of the time. I think these people were doing that. They represented that period. It was my time, I hung out at a place and the look was amazing. I didn't realize it at the time, but the look was amazing. A lot of the photographs that I took are amazing for that same reason, they're of a time.
Divine, 1973: Well, that was in the group of Lou Reed supporters. It was at the same time, at the same spot. Holly [Woodlawn, a Warhol "Superstar"] and Divine, they just followed him around for some reason or another. 'Walk on the Wild Side' -- that's what it is. That's the lyric of them. Not your typical housewife.
Preservation Hall Jazz Band, 1975: I got to know the owner/manager of that hall, and he let me bring in photo equipment, which was really nice, because otherwise you can't get those shots. There's a sign behind the players, the sign says, "Traditional requests $1.00. Others $2.50 and 'Saints' $5.00." This was a hard shot to take because there are posts in the room, and if I got behind the post I couldn't get the shot, and if I got in front of the post it was hard to get the wide angle. It was a great tourist spot. Still is.
The New York Dolls, 1973: These guys were performing, I think they were on TV. I was able to get them all -- that's a composite shot. It's interesting that as youthful as they were, only one of them is still alive. [Editor's Note: David Johansen and Sylvain Sylvain are the two surviving members.] I think that's sorta telling, isn't it?
Charles Mingus, 1973: I think there's a legend on it, but I don't recall.
Professor Longhair, 1975: This was in the mid-70's. You know, I met Allison Miner, who was one of the founders of the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, and she took me around to see some of the homes where these guys lived, because she knew them all. She really took Professor Longhair -- he was near broke and almost destitute -- and she sorta managed him and built him as a character, and she loved him. We hung out in his house for a while and got a lot of shots there. It's funny; I took a picture of him, and the following year I took another image of him and it was the same shirt. I'm sure he changed it, but by coincidence it was the same shirt that he was wearing.
Gladys Knight and the Pips, 1973: It's one of those moments that you capture. I followed her all the way from her dressing room, down an alley in the back with, I think that's her cousin, and one of The Pips, and got on stage and followed them all of the way. She seemed not concerned at all that I was snapping away.
Jackson Browne, 1972 Very peaceful. He was dating Joni Mitchell. They were, as we say, an item at the time. That was in Canada, at the Mariposa Festival, and he's wearing a badge that gives him access, and it says, "Kin." He wasn't performing, he was just following her. They were madly in love. It just worked out beautifully; he was playing and he didn't seem to mind me. That was the time when I was standing on the hillside and Joni Mitchell is about a hundred feet away, and she waved to me, and she said, "Come here, come here," and I said, "Me? I don't know you!" She said, "Yeah, come here!" She kept beckoning me over there, so I go over and I said "Yeah, can I help you?" She says "Yeah, would you mind watching the port-o-potty door so no one goes in, while I go in?" That was the closest I could get to her. I had three cameras strapped around my neck.
John Lee Hooker, 1973: That was in Ann Arbor[, Mich.] He did his act, he was sorta cocky, he knows how good he is. He performed, there's a picture, the hand with rings on it? I took a picture of a guy who's got six or seven rings on his finger, a guitar player. He was a homeless guy who they let play in Ann Arbor.
Bob Dylan,1974 That's another one where I couldn't get backstage passes, so I just stood up in the audience and got that. It's the only shot that I took, but I guess it worked out OK. He's just surrounded by people. It actually didn't come out badly.
Libba Cotten, 1979: Libba's sort of a tradition and an old timer, and a highly regarded performer. She was a housekeeper for Mike Seeger, and I think they figured out that she played guitar. Of course, the oddity was that she played backhand, she played left-handed guitar, with an upside-down guitar. I can just imagine her having picked up the first guitar and playing it backwards.
David Bowie, 1973: That's not a very good shot; I was in the audience, actually. I tried to get backstage passes, but I couldn't. So I got in, you know, I stood up for a second and grabbed the shot. You have to get the shot, and I don't think I ever went away without getting the shot. It might not have been beautiful, but it was what I set out to do.
Chuck Berry, 1981: You know the stories of Chuck Berry: "Pay and Play." And that's his routine, his duck walk. And again, I timed it. That's my ... my thing. He had his foot up in the air, just slightly in the air, bent over, and I can spot those things in advance.
Arnie Berle, 1972: Arnie Berle is an interesting guy because he comes off as a very ineffectual sort, but he's a good instructor. We figured it would be good to get him in the hustle-bustle of the city. We stood in the middle of Broadway. Death was calling, and my assistant was trying to shoo off the cars that were passing by, but we got an urban look to him. It comes off as a very interesting shot, because a lot of people like that photograph. I don't personally understand why.
Postscript: "I was just at Coachella. You know Coachella? At one time, photographers were respected, working photographers were respected and we got press passes to go to the front of the stage and work. And if some kids got in the way, we pushed them out of the way because that was our job, we had to get the photograph. Today, I went to Coachella, had a press pass and I said, "Great, I'm gonna get some great shots because there was a great lineup of performers." I go past the guard at the door and the front of the stage is packed with kids. I mean, it's just jammed with kids, not with cameras but with cellphones, taking pictures. And I said, "What is that? What kind of respect is that?" You know, it's totally unprofessional. So, I left, actually. I took some pictures of Beyoncé or somebody, but it was really a waste of my time. Besides, it was 110 degrees. It's an exciting event, but it's for kids." --Herb Wise
Out of the Garage: Ric Ocasek on Reuniting the Cars
"You know, we take long breaks between albums," Ric Ocasek, singer-songwriter-guitarist of the Cars, remarks with a chuckle, trying to explain away the extreme gap —more than two decades — between his New Wave band's hit streak in the late Seventies and Eighties and the impending release of Move Like This, a set of ten new songs, through Hear Music on May 10th. "It was something I never contemplated until I finished the songs," Ocasek goes on. "I didn't even give it a thought. I just didn't have any interest in it."
But as Ocasek reveals in Rolling Stone's exclusive report about the record in the current issue, the songs — which he had accumulated by this time last year — told him what to do: reconvene the surviving members of the band. Produced by the Cars with Gareth "Jacknife" Lee (U2, R.E.M.), Move Like This was recorded in Los Angeles and upstate New York by Ocasek with drummer David Robinson, guitarist Elliot Easton and keyboard player Greg Hawkes. Bassist-singer Benjamin Orr died in 2000 of cancer, and his absence was keenly felt, Ocasek admits. New Wave Heroes the Cars Roar Back on Reunion Record
"It seemed strange when Ben wasn't there for rehearsals," Ocasek says. "I'm kind of used to the fact that he passed away awhile ago. But when we first got together, it was like, "Oh yeah, it's just the four of us here. Whoever wants to play bass, just play." That turned out to be Hawkes, who ultimately shared the bass work with Lee on the album.
Ocasek also knew he could no longer fall back on Orr's rich supple tenor, a pivotal attraction in the Cars' astute blend of pop wiles and sleek art-rock. "But now it's different," Ocasek claims. "I can hear the Cars' hamonies in Greg and Elliot's voices. But it is missing that Ben thing — I can easily hear the three voices that should be there."
Here are further excepts from that interview, as Ocasek takes his old band for a new ride. Did it occur to you, as you gathered the other members together, that you had waited too long to start the Cars again?
I thought that could be the case. I knew we still got Eighties recognition — and that's a double-edged sword. But I didn't know, of the new breed of people, as far as new bands go, who knew us and who didn't. But I did find out — most of them knew.
Like Gareth. I thought it would be interesting to to use a producer, not to do it all ourselves. I sent him an email and found out he was a huge fan. He said, "Oh, I drive around in the car and listen to the Cars with my daughter all the time. I can't believe you're asking me to do this." Were Greg and Elliot surprised to hear from you, given that they had toured as that weird half-reunion, the New Cars, in 2005? You tried to get them not to do it, then gave them your reluctant blessing.
I said, "You can't be the Cars. It's two guys — it's not even close. But if you want to try it, go ahead."
But for me, it was like, fuck the past. Life's too short. This might be fun. I was really curious about how it would be. And when we got together, it was like we had just finished a couple of months ago. There was no figuring out what to do. It was a natural thing. The Cars' most distinctive quality, in that first lifetime, was the way you combined avant-rock aspiration and machine-like momentum with hit-record class. The phrase I wrote down, while listening to new songs like "Blue Tip" and "Hits Me," was "fortified minimalism."
That sounds about right. One of the things we talked about, when we started [in 1976], was we weren't going to be a jamming band. We were there for the songs. It wasn't going to be, "Oh, you get your solo, and you take those eight bars." We never wanted to do that. [Pauses, then laughs.] At least I didn't. The Cars had a non-stop run of hits for nearly a decade, then broke up after the 1987 album, Door to Door. What happened?
Life changes, the band attitude and not having a break for all those years — that was all part of it. It became a big dark thing. I noticed it on the Door to Door tour. It was the first tour we did that wasn't fun. Some people took buses, some people took planes. Nobody talked. I was like, "This has to stop. We'll stop in this spot. And I'm not going to back to this again." I held out for 23 years. You have no firm touring or performance plans yet. How far would you like this reunion to go?
I looked at it like, "We'll make this record. And that's it. Maybe we'll make another one sometime." It wasn't anything like, "We're going to smash this thing through." I definitely had to explain this to Greg and Elliot. I can understand their position. They wouldn't mind being on the road for six months. I could never do that. It might be fun to do a couple of shows or something.
If we do something live, it would just be us four. I'm not going to get another vocalist or an extra guy to play parts. It's not that kind of thing to me. The remainder of the thing is the real thing now. I hate to use the analogy, but is it really like taking a car out of the garage again?
Yeah, it felt like that. This record was a great experience. I certainly wouldn't mind doing more records. I think a couple of the guys feel that way too. I know David, when the record was done, almost felt sad. He said, "Can't we just do some more? Can't we start on another one now?"
Sammy Hagar's new autobiography Red: My Uncensored Life In Rock (in stores on March 15th) traces the singer's long career from his days in the 1970s hard rock band Montrose to his insane ride in Van Halen through the formation of his supergroup Chickenfoot.
The new issue of Rolling Stone (on sale and in the online archive Friday) has an exclusive excerpt focusing on Van Halen's disastrous 2004 reunion tour that was nearly derailed due to Eddie Van Halen's alcoholism. We chatted with Hagar about why he decided to write the book - and whether or not he'd ever return to Van Halen. (For more on the book check out Hagar's website.)
What made you want to write a book?
I’ve been maybe one of the most misunderstood rockers of all time because I’ve always been kinda quiet on my personal life. I’ve never really been a press-hound. There’s never been a lot of stuff written about me, quite honestly. Flying under the radar’s always been my philosophy. If you’re never in, you’re never out.
At some stage in your life, though, you go "I want my story to be told," and here it is. I think that’s why people are gonna be surprised when they read. You know we know all about Tommy Lee. We know all about Keith Richards. But, we don’t know that much about Sammy.
Tell me how you worked with your co-author Joel Selvin.
He's a longtime friend, and a critic in the Bay Area where I grew up. He'd come in and go, "Okay, let's talk about Montrose." And we would for three or four hours. He'd transcribe it and go, "I need to know more. Let's talk about what your wife was going through" or "More about your mother now" or "I need to know more about what happened on tour."
You really spill the dirt on Eddie Van Halen. You clearly weren't too concerned with burning bridges there.
I don't consider them burning bridges at all. When I first joined the band, dirt was going back and forth between us and the former lead singer. I didn't burn any bridges. They eventually put the bridge back. Time washes everything clean. To be honest, Valerie [Bertinelli] said almost all the same stuff in her book about Ed.
The only thing I did was talk about my personal relationship with him. I had almost 10 fantastic years in that band. It was a dream come true for any musician on the planet. We had the greatest relationship and the greatest run and wrote some of the greatest music. We had five Number One albums and sold 50, 60 million records together. We practically sold out every venue in the world.
The last two years were really rough. Everyone immediately goes to the dirt, but quite honestly being in Van Halen was one of the greatest experiences in my life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’ll take the dirt right with it.
Back to burning bridges: If you choose to write an autobiography, which I did, then you only have one shot. If you don't tell it all then you sit there for the rest of your life telling stories and people are like, "Well why wasn’t that in the book?" I don’t wanna have to do that. It’s all right there.
Actor Corey Feldman has lashed out at the Oscars for leaving his late pal Corey Haim out of the In Memoriam tribute at the Academy Awards on Sunday.
As Celine Dion sang Charlie Chaplin's Smile, Feldman watched hoping to toast his Lost Boys co-star, who died last year, but Haim wasn't part of the segment.
Feldman tells TMZ.com, "Corey's films have earned the industry over a half a billion dollars and his work remains an inspiration to young artists worldwide.
"Corey dedicated his life to the film industry. The same industry that failed to dedicate even 30 seconds to his memory."
A statement from the Oscars producers reads, "There will always be fans and family members of those not included who will be disappointed by their omission. The Academy extends its understanding and its apologies to those who missed seeing a favourite face in this year's feature."
It's not the first time this year Feldman has protested an ignored tribute to Haim. He was also upset when the actor wasn't deemed deserving of a mention during the Screen Actors Guild Awards telecast last month.
Back then, he said, "We have become used to not being honoured by our peers in the industry."
He issued a warning, stating, "I have faith the Academy will make a wiser choice."
"I didn't think it was that stupid," mutters a puzzled George Harrison during a halt in a video shoot, as a battery of eight Warner Bros. Records employees hastens to reassure him. The mood in the sky-lighted, wood-paneled room at Warner Bros. headquarters in beautiful Burbank, California, is a heady mix of exhilaration and tension. Harrison has just delivered Cloud Nine, his first album in five years, to the label. The record is Harrison's finest since his first solo outing after the Beatles' breakup — the three-album set All Things Must Pass, in 1970. With good reason, Warner Bros, holds big commercial hopes for it. Rolling Stone's 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time: George Harrison
Aside from those considerations of art and potential sales, the mere presence of the mysterious ex-Beatle at his record company's offices has propelled the place into a dizzying spin. For the two days that Harrison has been on the scene meeting the press and talking business with the label's bigwigs, the staff has been buzzing. Admirers peek around doorways to catch glimpses of him, and a steady stream of devotees has presented him with albums and other memorabilia to autograph. "In the past week there's been more Beatles records around here than Warner Bros, records," one staffer says jokingly. This article appeared in the October 22, 1987 issue of Rolling Stone. The issue is available in the online archive.
But if Harrison's legendary stature has sparked the mood of exhilaration, it's also charged the undercurrent of tension. The video interview being filmed is not for MTV — it's a promotional clip for the annual Warner/Elektra/Atlantic (WEA) sales convention in Miami. Featuring segments with a host of premier Warner Bros. acts, the video is intended to "get the troops up, raise the level of morale, motivate the salespeople for the fourth quarter," according to Adam Somers, the vice-president of creative services at Warner Bros., who is coordinating the filming. Photos: Invasion of the Beatles
To achieve those all-important ends — the holiday season is crucial to the bottom line throughout the record industry — Warner Bros. has recruited fast-talking NBC West Coast sportscaster Fred Roggin and conceived a quasi-comical baseball theme to link the artists' skits. In the year of the lively ball and corked bats, that theme is, What is Warner Bros. Records putting into its vinyl to give the company so many big "hits"? Get it? Perhaps you do, but Harrison — being British and all — doesn't. Still, because of the priority the label is placing on CloudNine, Harrison's spot is to be the "culmination" of the tape, according to Somers. George Harrison (1943 - 2001) by Anthony DeCurtis
When told of the planned shooting the previous evening, the generally cooperative Harrison "wasn't too receptive" to the idea, says one Warner employee. As the room was being prepared and equipment set up the following morning, several staffers met with Harrison — "sans anyone else," as they requested with a glance at a nearby reporter — "to explain to him what this is about." That explanatory session presumably involved some prepping on the cultural significance of baseball in America and the no-bullshit significance of happy salespeople to successful record releases — of which Harrison hasn't had too many lately. Neither bloody nor bowed, Harrison nonetheless emerged from the meeting reconciled to his fate.
"Well, George, thanks for joining us," says a stand-in for Roggin, reading from the script. "The question in everyone's mind at the WEA meeting in Miami is, How's that arm doin'?" Photos: The Beatles Through the Years
Harrison, sporting a long-sleeved, black and white striped polo shirt, black jeans and pointy black suede shoes, is seated on a comfortable leather couch, fingering his beard. "Oh, the arm's fine, Fred. Thanks for asking," he responds gamely. "A bit of rhythm guitar, you know. I've been working it hard, too, what with this latest series of games with Houston."
'Hallelujah,' Jeff Buckley
'Hound Dog,' Elvis Presley 
'Respect,' Aretha Franklin 
'Achy Breaky Heart,' Billy Ray Cyrus 
'A Piece of My Heart,' Janis Joplin
'Twist and Shout,' The Beatles
'Nothing Compares 2 U,' Sinéad O'Connor
'Wild Thing,' The Troggs 
'Have I Told You Lately,' Rod Stewart 
'Turn, Turn, Turn (To Everything There Is a Season),' The Byrds 
'(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,' Elvis Costello and the Attractions 
'Love Hurts,' Nazareth 
'Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood,' The Animals
'Hurt,' Johnny Cash 
'You've Got a Friend,' James Taylor 
Michael Ochs Archives / Getty Images
