Makeup to breakup

People would literally cringe in fear when he came near. Especially when he whipped out that tongue. His tongue was so long, there were rumors that he had had it cosmetically enhanced.

With his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth, he looked like some demonic lizard. Gene once told me that if he could leave his makeup on all the time and never leave that persona, he would do it.

Paul would literally become the Star. Ta-da! This chubby little kid from Queens became Liza Minnelli, Rod Stewart, Mick Jagger, all beamed into one. He knew he could have any woman he wanted. He has very feminine hands, but he would use them like a Svengali onstage. Like Dracula, he’d gesture to a girl in the audience as if he was commanding her. He’d grab his face dramatically and walk along the lip of the stage and look down on the people as if they were nothing, because he was the Star. And then the white light would hit him and I could see that his brain was bubbling, because everything was “Look at me! Look at me!”

Ace was a true Spaceman, a guy who tripped and fell over himself because he could never quite adjust to the gravity on earth. He actually used to say that to us, and not even when he was in costume!

When I put on that Cat makeup, I truly was transformed. Forget about Peter Criscuola, the kid from Brooklyn. He didn’t exist. I believed I was a superhero, the most iconic cat of all cats, sitting up there overlooking my prey. I was a nasty little alley cat, ready to grab whatever I wanted. Don’t get too close to me, because I might just attack. It was insane power tripping. I felt taller. My arms felt stronger. I was really transformed into this powerhouse of energy. I couldn’t hit my drums hard enough. It was almost scary to feel that much power.

Sean fed on that energy. I remember so many times in rehearsals when Sean would be screaming in my face to kill those drums, break those motherfuckers. It was almost militaristic: Everything we did onstage was meant to annihilate. When we opened shows, our goal would be to kill so bad that the headlining act wouldn’t want to come on after us. Sean helped us develop that animal instinct, and all of it began with the drums. The other guys had to keep up with me playing fifty million miles an hour.

Sean worked 24/7 with us. He was like an obsessed drill sergeant. When we’d get in that rehearsal room and were all up together on that stage, he would get in front of us and it was like he was leading the largest orchestra in the world, he was so into it. I was a nobody then, but when I was around Sean, I felt like royalty, like I was the greatest drummer in the world. Both Sean and Bill knew instinctively that it was important to treat us all like stars, and they absolutely did.

Sean was also protective of us.

“I’ll kill any fucking body that touches you four,” he told us. “I will cut their fucking throat from ear to ear. You’re my babies.”

Sean was a tough bastard, too, and if he had to get a little tough and show his butch side to protect us, he’d put on a game face that would scare the shit out of anyone who tried to fuck with us.

He also kept the peace among us. We each spent a lot of time alone with Sean, and he knew