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THE KEVIN DUBROW/QUITE RIOT SPLIT!

The last time I saw Quiet Riot was on November 11, 1983. I know that because I wrote a story about them back then and I just found the story. On that date—nearly four years ago—Quiet Riot’s Metal Health had just hit #1 on the Billboard charts. They were the first metal band to ever crack the Top 10 with their debut album.

September 2, 1987
J. Kordosh

The CREEM Archive presents the magazine as originally created. Digital text has been scanned from its original print format and may contain formatting quirks and inconsistencies.

THE KEVIN DUBROW/QUITE RIOT SPLIT!

FEATURES

J. Kordosh

The last time I saw Quiet Riot was on November 11, 1983. I know that because I wrote a story about them back then and I just found the story. On that date—nearly four years ago—Quiet Riot’s Metal Health had just hit #1 on the Billboard charts. They were the first metal band to ever crack the Top 10 with their debut album.

I never saw Quiet Riot again.

Their next album, Condition Critical, did OK, but nowhere near as well as the first record. Meanwhile, Kevin DuBrow was making a reputation for himself as being something of a loudmouth. Things worsened. I still didn’t see them. They released QR III to considerable indifference last year and their career continued its downward slide. I continued not seeing them.

Then: several months ago, the band fired vocalist DuBrow. The press releases both sides sent out to announce the event were very different: DuBrow’s, which came first, said that he’d decided to go solo. Quiet Riot’s, which came hot on its heels, said that he’d been axed because he’d turned off the group’s friends and supporters.

I figured it would be a good time to see them again. DuBrow told me to come over and he’d elaborate, so I motored over to his place in the Hollywood Hills. He elaborated.

“They said they fired me and I say ‘How can you fire someone who never worked for you?’ ’’ asks DuBrow. It’s a good question: DuBrow and Randy Rhoads (more on him later) got Quiet Riot going in 1975, some eight years before I’d seen any of these people.

“We did have a corporate structure,” he continued, “but I was the president of the corporation. These guys worked for me for the last 10 years. As I remember, by looking at the old albums, I didn’t see any of their names on the old Quiet Riot records. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember hardly any of them writing many songs, if you check out the songwriting credits.”

It’s true that things were rarely rosy in QR-land after that first monstrous album. DuBrow recalled how the whole thing culminated: “The last tour wasn’t a lot of fun,” he said. “There was a lot of tension, a lot of negativity, from certain members of the group. And I thought the management—there’s no point in being subtle about it—was for shit. We left ourselves behind by taking so much damned time off.”

As that last tour was ending (in Japan—ironically, the same country in which Quiet Riot enjoyed early success during the Randy Rhoads years), DuBrow stopped speaking to manager Warren Entner (“Also known as Larry Tate,’’ says DuBrow—see your Bewitched reruns). Then the singer got a phone call from a friend back in the States. “I’ve got news for you,” said the friend. “When you get back, the guys are going to keep the name Quiet Riot, get a new singer and go on without you.” DuBrow confronted guitarist Carlos Cavazo, who admitted the story was true, and drummer Frankie Banali, who denied it. Their last night there, the band—sans DuBrow—checked out of the hotel and sort of skulked back to the States, more or less affirming the rumor.

“In this situation it’s almost like I’m getting a good rap ’cause they were so nasty in doing it,” says DuBrow. “This is the best thing that ever happened to me: it’s like somebody cancelling my ticket on the Titanic.

“I know that when I used to bad-rap groups, the public always took the side of the group I bad-rapped. By them going and blatantly slagging me, the public takes the side of the underdog, which is now me.”

A strange role for Mr. DuBrow. I contacted Warren Entner to get his—and Quiet Riot’s—side of things, and he told me that the guys were rehearsing and didn’t really see the need to talk about the situation at this time. OK by me, but just so you’ll know, there’s probably a picture or two of the new Quiet Riot around these words some place. And Du Brow has been replaced, by former Rough Cutt singer Paul Shortino.

It would seem that both DuBrow and the band are glad to have parted ways. DuBrow’s produced a Floridian band, Julliet (who he describes as ‘‘a mixture between Bon Jovi and Metal Health era Quiet Riot”), read for a part in the new Julian Temple film, Earth Girls Are Easy (three aliens come to Earth and a Valley Girl hairdresser turns them into a rock bandsounds pretty good to me), and started working on his new solo album.

‘‘Cozy Powell’s committed himself to play drums and John Entwhistle’s commited to play bass,” says DuBrow, naming two heavy-duty talents. ‘‘Whoever I get to play guitar, it won’t be someone who’s famous just for the album—I’m gonna get someone who’s gonna be in the Kevin DuBrow Band.”

Quiet Riot, of course, continue working on their first DuBrow-less album. As regards the name, DuBrow says he doesn’t mind them keeping it: “It’s a major league albatross,” he notes. “It’ll be easier for me to get airplay with my own band and my own name because it’s a fresh start.”

It could be. And DuBrow does have this to say about his former bandmates: “In spite of what I think of Frankie, Chuck and Carlos as people, as musicians they’re par excellence—especially Frankie, who I probably dislike the most. I’d love to use him on my album, but I can’t stand to be in the same room with him." Oddly, Banali drummed on the Julliet sessions DuBrow produced.

In addition to his numerous other projects, the ex-Quiet Riot singer has another deal to ponder: "We’ve been approached to re-release the Japanese Quiet Riot albums with Randy Rhoads,” he says. (There were two—Quiet Riot I and Quiet Riot //—which weren’t released in the U.S.). “There’s a renewed interest in Randy, but I’ve always hesitated in re-releasing the old records for the same reason Ozzy has: we don't want people to think we’re capitalizing on the tragedy of someone we both loved."

Still, with the commercial success of Ozzy’s Tribute, he does have to give the idea some thought. In addition to the early records, DuBrow says he has “six unreleased Quiet Riot demos that are actually finished tracks,” dating from February of 76. The tracks include “Force Of Habit,” a song that, with some reworked lyrics, became “Suicide Solution,” and “The Mighty Quinn.” DuBrow played me the latter and I thought it was perhaps the definitive metal interpretation of Bob Dylan. Certainly a contender anyway.

If he does pursue the project—it would have to be with the approval of Randy’s mom—he says he’ll remix all the stuff. And as regards charges of capitalizing on Randy’s name, DuBrow notes: “Some people are gonna say that no matter what. Some people are gonna say the same about Ozzy. I know it’s not true.”

So there’s much to look forward to out of this whole mess: a Kevin DuBrow solo album, another Quiet Riot disc and—perhaps—some more of Randy Rhoads’s historic guitar work. DuBrow says the Rhoads album, if released, would come out late in ’87 or early in ’88, and I asked if that might be bad timing—in other words, that he might end up competing with his own solo album.

“Oh, I’d never put it out the same time as mine,” he says. “It might come out the same time as Quiet Riot’s, though.”

Y’know, I must remind myseif to try to see these people again.