I Know The Words: "UnbeLEIFable" (But True) Stories of a Wannabe Rock Star

By Scott P. Leifer

Dive into the extraordinary world of "I Know The Words," the most unique and unbelievable rock n' roll biography ever written. Scott, a seemingly ordinary "nerdy bank examiner," takes center stage in this wonderfully detailed memoir. Prepare to get up-close and personal like never before with rock legends who've collectively sold hundreds of millions of albums.

Feel the full spectrum of emotions as Scott, with no rock star looks and minimal musical ability, miraculously finds himself sharing the limelight with the likes of KISS, Rick Springfield, John Waite, and Sebastian Bach. From the heart-pounding performances to unforgettable encounters with members of Scorpions, Poison, Mötley Crüe, Guns N' Roses, and more, this is a journey filled with endearing moments and inspiring stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350924732

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Setting the Stage

I know the words. Okay, well not all of them…but most of them. When it comes to almost any classic rock tune, hard rock anthem, or heavy metal song, or even most 80s pop music ear candy, I can pretty much rattle off the lyrics line by line. Karaoke screens, Google searches, album inserts, or CD sleeves (remember those?) are seldom necessary as I have always had a strange propensity to recite lyrics and instantly recall their rhythmic flow and poetic beauty. Though of course, many of my favorite rock songs are more cringe-inducing from a lyrical perspective than they are auditory streams of poetic mastery.

Oddly enough, I actually do know a plethora of words outside of the musical realm. Over the past 35 years, I have progressed from an intermediate to an expert level Scrabble player and have competed regularly in local and national tournaments. I have studied and memorized an insane volume of words, ranging from two to eight letters in length, and practiced slick mnemonic tricks that make it virtually impossible for any novice, kitchen-table Scrabble player to prevail against me. My lovely wife Dawn refuses to play me. In 26 years of marriage, we have played a grand total of one game. A long, arduous, expletive-laden game that shall not be repeated anytime soon. I have also had some friends walk away in disgust and in some cases (you know who you are!) hurl the board across the room resulting in a hailstorm of lettered tiles raining down across the floor.

My passion for music and words began at a very young age, clearly triggered by an amalgam of my Dad’s fondness for oldies, bands from the British Invasion, and yacht rock staples; and my love for Casey Kasem’s American Top 40, MTV’s magnificent early years, the tantalizing action at the Scrabble board, and songwriting, which may be my biggest obsession of all. I have written hundreds (maybe even thousands) of songs, starting in 1983 and continuing through the present day. I write not only the lyrics, but also compose many of the basic vocal melodies, which my far more talented friends have helped put to music.

Several of my original songs, largely through the tremendous support of my close friend Jeff Pongonis (Pongo),¹ have appeared on releases from his bands and other local artists. They have also been used in various special projects and, quite amazingly, landed on two full albums and a four track EP of my very own original material for which I sang lead vocals. Crazily and perhaps sadly, I cannot competently play any instruments at all; nothing beyond fumbling my way through a handful of guitar chords. My singing voice is, uh, well, another thing entirely. While it has markedly improved over the years and supposedly can reach fairly high octaves (a musical term I barely understand), it can be pitchy at times and is not even remotely close to professional quality. Mediocre or serviceable would probably be considered an accurate, if not kind, assessment of my vocal prowess.

With this as a backdrop, it would be preposterous to think that an ordinary guy like me with no tangible vocal skills (who has sold a whopping, let me count, zero albums), no rock star looks or flashy moves, no tattoos or piercings, an inability to play an instrument or keep a beat, an ever-diminishing head of hair, and (at least according to my daughters Julia and Brooke) a horrible and dated sense of fashion, would wind up onstage and in intimate settings singing his heart out next to so many incredible, influential artists. A guy like Scott Leifer (or Leif) repeatedly sharing the spotlight with legends, true rock stars, and household names across the globe that have collectively sold hundreds of millions of albums.

If you told me when I was fourteen years old that one day I would: hold the microphone while Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley of KISS served as my backing band; belt out Rock You Like a Hurricane flanked with Scorpions’ guitarists by my side; sing a Rick Springfield hit song while the man himself played air guitar and sang along right next to me; or perform at the famed Whisky a Go Go on Los Angeles’ Sunset Strip with Poison’s Rikki Rockett as my drummer – I would have thought you were clinically insane or that you did not just say no to drugs like the commercials strongly suggested.

So, how did all of this happen? Were these experiences and other close encounters with my heroes merely dumb luck? Were they fate or rock n’ roll serendipity? Did I grease some palms or pay to play so to speak? Was it maybe a combination of all those things…or did I simply just know the words?

CHAPTER 2

Opening Act

I am an avid reader of rock biographies. The stuffed bookshelves in my home office are remarkably similar to the Music Biography & Memoir section of Barnes & Noble with a wide mix of artists and bands represented. There are also several songwriting books, dictionaries and reference guides, and tomes on hard rock and heavy metal history. In a weird way, this book is a rock n’ roll biography too, albeit regarding one of the least likely and least famous subjects you would ever expect – me! However, in contrast to many biographical accounts, I will spare you every granular detail regarding my family’s ancestry, their voyages to America, how my parents met, my difficult birth (I was quite a chubby baby), and my elementary school years. I’ll do my best to handle the preliminaries and some essential background information in just a few short paragraphs.

I grew up (using that term loosely) in Stoughton, Massachusetts, a small suburban town located about 20 miles south of Boston, best known for the superbly delicious Town Spa Pizza. My upbringing was rather normal with my parents Linda and Dave, younger sister Cari, and a great close-knit group of friends. We were middle-class, certainly not well off, but I never really wanted or needed much. My life from grade school up through my high school years was all about music, sitcoms, sports, and mostly unsuccessful attempts at chasing girls. Unlike many kids from my generation, I never cared even the tiniest bit about Star Wars, science fiction, Army Guys, or Matchbox cars. Instead, I would listen to the radio for hours on end and keep track of the songs played on a homemade spreadsheet, just to validate whether the aforementioned Top 40 was accurate.²

Unsurprisingly, I was by no means popular. I was just a nice, slightly immature kid that was a decent athlete, but not quite good enough to play high school sports. In tenth grade, I tried out for the Stoughton High School basketball team. Decked out in an Ozzy Osbourne (Randy Rhoads tribute) T-shirt and sporting a sad curly mullet, I stood out from the more serious, properly attired players. Despite a valiant effort, I did not make the cut. I worked a bunch of jobs (including fast food, supermarkets, a clothing store, and a paper route) all for the purpose of making enough money to buy records and tapes, Tshirts of my favorite bands, and when I was old enough, attend concerts. My initial songwriting began with a brief foray into parodies inspired by Weird Al Yankovic and quickly transitioned into catchy (at least in my mind) melodic rock songs and power ballads in the vein of Journey and Foreigner.

As I became hooked on what now is often referred to as hair metal, my songs would touch on every cliché subject under the sun like wild sex, alcohol, drugs, and taking on the world (topics in which I certainly had minimal experience). This includes gems such as the embarrassingly titled I Got Hammered (and You Got Nailed) that covered more than one of those salacious activities. I was writing almost on a daily basis, often during my classes at school, and compiling quite a catalog of songs at least in terms of sheer volume if not quality. Basic self-awareness told me that I had an exceedingly better shot of making it as a songwriter than as a spandex clad rocker living the dream on the Sunset Strip. Although I wanted nothing more than to become the next Desmond Child, perhaps the most legendary songwriter of that era, I knew deep inside that the cards had something else in store. For me, it was off to college to pursue a degree at the business school, which has since been renamed the Isenberg School of Management, at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst.

After four years of hard studying, moderate partying on weekends, and a continued focus on my few primary childhood (now lifelong) vices, I graduated near the top of my class with a Bachelor of Business Administration degree in Finance.³ The rest of my personal background, aside from the exploits covered in this book, can be summed up as follows: engaged to a beautiful girl from Amherst in 1995, married in 1997 (and still going strong), blessed with two incredible daughters (arriving in 2001 and 2003), and living the life of a middle-aged dad (with the requisite terrible jokes) with our three adorable Shih Tzus in Mansfield, Massachusetts, attending concerts and rocking out whenever my work and family schedules allow.

Speaking of work, you may be wondering what I do for a living. My daughters and their friends have postulated that I am an FBI agent. A realistic presumption since I never say much about my profession, do not want anyone near my home office (which is really a glorified man-cave above our garage) especially when I am working, and exercise regularly in our basement like I am preparing for a secret mission to hunt down or fight criminals. I guess in their eyes, I appear to be a little mysterious or constantly deep in thought when I am most likely just trying to polish off new lyrics in my brain. If only my occupation was so hip or dazzling. Yet in truth, they are not outrageously off the mark.

I certainly do not carry a gun or physically chase bank robbers like Keanu Reeves in my all-time favorite movie Point Break. But I have worked for the United States Government in an agency with a different acronym, the FDIC (or Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation) for the past 30 years. I have risen from commissioned examiner status to my current position of Senior Review Examiner, and these days work remotely for our Washington Office.⁴ Again, I will not (and for security reasons, probably cannot) bore you with the specifics, but I handle a wide range of complex and challenging issues related to the examination, supervision, and analysis of FDIC-insured depository institutions. Over the decades, when I have shared my original songs with my parents, they have on more than a few occasions half-jokingly reacted by saying, Don’t quit your day job. Gee, thanks Ma and Dad! Not to worry, chasing my rock n’ roll passions has totally been a side hustle.

You now know almost all you need to know before hearing my unbeLEIFable stories. However, thus far, there is one enormous, stadium-sized, 50-thousand-watt, 140 decibel, gaping void in the narrative that I shared. I would be remiss if I did not discuss my infatuation and diehard fanaticism for the Hottest Band in the world, KISS (hey, that rhymes!). Anyone who knows me well immediately associates me with KISS. Whenever an excited friend or family member hears one of their songs, sees a commercial featuring them, or stumbles across a meme or comic strip showing the band members, my phone usually rings (or dings) shortly thereafter. Naturally, I am always appreciative as a proud, card carrying, metal horn saluting member of the KISS Army for the past 40 years or so.

My love for KISS may be backwards compared to a large proportion of their legion of fans, particularly those who discovered the band in their 70s heyday.⁵ Of course, as an early teen I was blown away by images (and live footage) of their kabuki-style makeup, superhero personas, iconic album covers, larger-than-life costumes, and bombastic stage show. I was fascinated by the explosions, smoking guitars, levitating drums, and fire-breathing, blood-spewing, tongue-wagging, high-flying, microphone-swinging stage antics. For me, however, it was more about the newest music. In particular, my gateway drug was 80s KISS after seeing videos on MTV for hit songs like Lick It Up, Heaven’s On Fire, Tears Are Falling, and on rare occasion, I Love It Loud from the epic 1982 Creatures of the Night album.

Once the Asylum album (still my favorite to this day) was released in September of 1985, I went full throttle into my KISS addiction. I accumulated all the KISS records or tapes that I could, bought any magazine that mentioned the band, purchased every T-shirt I could find, and covered my bedroom in KISS posters and one very large tapestry that filled an entire wall. A neighbor’s older brother gave me a copy of a mixtape that had songs from KISS’ Alive I and Alive II albums. I then became completely consumed with their entire catalog. I relished everything from the self-titled debut album through all of the classic 70s material, the disco/pop period of Dynasty and Unmasked, and the then hard-to-find Music from the Elder concept album, which I scored in a bargain bin at the Village Mall in Canton, Massachusetts. I added these to my collection of the more recent albums and also acquired several bootleg tapes of live shows and unreleased demos.

While I was a fan of every band member from KISS’ original lineup (Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley, Ace Frehley, and Peter Criss), Paul was my absolute favorite. It was not just his Star Child persona or witty onstage banter like, Alright, I know, I know everybody’s hot, everybody’s got rock n’ roll pneumonia, so let’s call out Dr. Love. I was intrigued by the power and uniqueness of his voice. When listening to a KISS album, I always went to the songs he sang first, especially tortured ballads that also rocked hard such as I Still Love You, A Million To One, and Tonight You Belong To Me, the latter coming from his phenomenal 1978 solo album. In my eyes, he was the coolest human being on earth in the 80s and the source of many inspiring quotes along the lines of, Life is a buffet; you just need to eat everything spread out in front of you.

In some ways, KISS’ music and attitude, and the spirit of being a dedicated fan have crossed over into having a meaningful and profound impact on my life. Even my wedding song (Forever) was by KISS. My sole criterion for selecting a band for the occasion was that they had to learn and play the song, which was co-written by Paul Stanley, Michael Bolton, and my favorite KISS guitarist, Bruce Kulick. They did, and it became my first dance with Dawn as Mr. and Mrs. Leifer.

My first KISS concert was in 1987, the story of which would make a good short story in itself. Briefly, here are the highlights. I was suspended from school in 10th grade for mooning (yes, mooning) a teacher. Odd behavior and an isolated incident for a solid student. The punishment from my parents was that I could not see KISS when they came around in the coming months. Fortunately, tickets went on sale while I was at home serving my five-day suspension. I was not yet driving but took a bus to Open Door Tickets at the Westgate Mall in Brockton, Massachusetts, scored great seats, and secretly went with my friends to the show on December 12, 1987 (the night before my 16th birthday). My parents ultimately found out, but luckily let me off easy appreciating my commitment.

Since that exhilarating first show, I have seen the band play live somewhere around 50 times. I have also been fortunate enough to have had a few immersive meet and greet experiences (some of which I’ll cover in these pages) and sail on six KISS Kruises. Yes, in addition to being a member of the KISS Army, I am also a member of the KISS Navy with the current rank of Admiral based on the number of missions completed. Through these experiences, I have met and made KISS friends from around the globe, which is further indicative of the band’s popularity, appeal, and ability to unite a passionate, worldwide fanbase.⁶

Hopefully, I have given you a good flavor for who I am, my background, and what makes me tick. A few last side notes before we get into the real reason you are here: the behind the music stories that sometimes make me seem like