Ratt ... HERE THEY COME!
On a brain-melting, late summer afternoon, Robbin Crosby, Juan Croucier, Stephen Pearcy, Warren DeMartini and Bobby Blotzer pushed open the heavy glass doors of L.A.’s Village Recorder Studios and swayed in the relentless sun. “Ohh, what a shock!”
Ratt ... HERE THEY COME!
Judy Wieder
On a brain-melting, late summer afternoon, Robbin Crosby, Juan Croucier, Stephen Pearcy, Warren DeMartini and Bobby Blotzer pushed open the heavy glass doors of L.A.’s Village Recorder Studios and swayed in the relentless sun.
“Ohh, what a shock!” Robbin mumbled, shading his eyes and looking for cover. Hard at work on their third album, the five members of Ratt darted across Santa Monica Boulevard and headed for their favorite lunch joint.
Explaining his clients’ weariness, manager Marshall Berle remarked: “The band has been collectively writing for months now. Beau Hill, the same man who did Ratt’s last two albums, is the producer again. Our goal here is for the album to be released by mid-September.”
My surprise at seeing all the Ratt boys attending every session was even more surprising to Marshall. "Well, of course!” he huffed at me. ‘They’re doing all the writing and playing, of course they're at all the sessions.” I explained how often I’d gone to band recording sessions only to find outside players and drum machines doing most of the work. He softened: "That’s true, but not for Ratt. They make their own music.”