Shatner Rules Read online

  Brian thanked me, and left some sheet music on my desk for these “science fiction songs.” Later, I began to go over some of the lyrics. One was “Space Oddity” by David Bowie, which—judging from Bowie’s ever-changing appearance over the years—I assumed was autobiographical.

  But no, it was about a character named Major Tom. And he appeared in more than one of the songs on my desk. He is the title character in a song by Peter Schilling, there was another tune called “Mrs. Major Tom,” and then there was the sheet music to Elton John’s “Rocket Man,” which is basically about Major Tom.

  FUN FACTNER: William Shatner became one of the first artists to cover “Rocket Man” when he performed it at the Saturn Awards in 1978.

  SECONDARY ADDITIONAL FUN FACTNER: Cee Lo sent a thank-you note after William Shatner became one of the first artists to cover “Fuck You.” Are you reading this, Elton John?

  It occurred to me then that this didn’t have to be a novelty album full of random sci-fi songs; it could be a concept album that tells a story, much like Has Been and The Transformed Man. This could be an opportunity to blow some minds. And—if we got the right musicians on board—blow some speakers.

  Searching for Major Tom began to take shape once Adam Hamilton hopped on board as producer. We began to tell a story of an astronaut at a crossroads in his life, while deep in outer space. And we began to assemble songs and artists who would help me tell the story.

  What are the songs? Who are the artists? We recorded Deep Purple’s “Space Truckin’,” with Johnny Winter on guitar—one of Rolling Stone magazine’s 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time—and “She Blinded Me with Science” with Bootsy Collins on bass, a man who has spent plenty of time in the outer reaches of the universe. I cover U2’s “In a Little While.” Michael Schenker from the Scorpions rocks like a hurricane with me on Tea Party’s “Empty Glass.” I croon “Lost in the Stars” with jazz great Ernie Watts on sax. I cover Golden Earring’s “Twilight Zone,” which has nothing to do with gremlins on planes or guys obsessed with fortune machines.

  “Space Cowboy” by Steve Miller? I do it, with my pal Brad Paisley (he provides the cowboy, I handle the space). Peter Frampton comes alive on a version of Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky,” while two of the loudest musicians ever—guitarist Wayne Kramer (from the MC5) and drummer Carmine Appice (who has been in nearly ever band that ever was)—back me up on Hawkwind’s “Silver Machine.”

  You indie rock types will “dig” (am I using that right?) the Strokes’ Nick Valensi’s work on “Major Tom,” while classic metal fans can “jam” (not sure about that one) with Deep Purple’s Ritchie Blackmore on our cover of “Space Oddity.” Alan Parsons plays on that one, too, taking time off from his Project.

  I land on Duran Duran’s “Planet Earth” with Steve Howe from Yes, I “Walk on the Moon” with Toots of Toots and the Maytals, Dave Davies from the Kinks helps me blast off with the Byrds’ “Mr. Spaceman,” and I was “Learning to Fly” with my own take on the latter-day Pink Floyd classic. Together, we put all these songs together to make a real rock opera. And unlike Tommy, you don’t need to be stoned to figure out what Searching for Major Tom is about.

  Who else is on the album? Mike Inez from Alice in Chains, John Wetton from Asia, Edgar Froese from Tangerine Dream, guitarist Steve Hillage, keyboardist Patrick Moraz, Manuel Gottsching from Ash Ra Tempel, Warren Haynes from the Allman Brothers Band and Gov’t Mule, and the lovely Sheryl Crow. Plus too many others to mention.

  In putting this project together, Adam Hamilton, along with music industry heavy-hitter John Lappen, brought me my own Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It truly rocked.

  Have you ever heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen and said to yourself, “I wish William Shatner would perform this.” Well, wish no more! I cover it on this album. The whole thing! Queen liked long songs—they must have been fans of The Transformed Man. I found the whole thing magnifico! And Galileo! Even Figaro!

  The second to last song on the album is “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath. In the context of our album, this song represents hell to Major Tom, who is teetering on the brink of life and death.

  I went into the studio with Adam and laid down my vocals for this blackest of Black Sabbath tracks, and then stepped back into the bright light of Los Angeles and went on my way.

  But a few weeks later, Adam called me and wanted me to hear the guitar track that Zakk Wylde had laid down for the song.

  Have you heard of Zakk Wylde? (My spell-check program hasn’t.) He is one of America’s preeminent hard rock guitarists. He played alongside Ozzy Osbourne for many years, and now fronts his own heavy metal band, Black Label Society. He’s this massive, scary-looking guy with long hair and a long, braided beard. I don’t think he has ever worn a shirt with sleeves.

  And when I heard his guitar work, I was transformed.

  It was raw. It was powerful. It was . . . fucking gnarly. (I must be using that one right, right?)

  So raw, in fact, that I went back in the studio to re-record my “Iron Man” vocals. I had to do justice to the blistering, six-string assault created by Zakk’s Gibson Les Paul.

  Bill kicks some serious ass recording his version of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” for his newest album in 2011. (Courtesy of Paul Camuso)

  My original track wasn’t dirty enough. It wasn’t Ozzy Osbourne, it was Ozzie Nelson. (Ask your grandparents, kids.) I needed to scream.

  While screaming, I realized that heavy metal is nothing more than raw energy. That’s what defines it. And I needed to tap into that energy with all my might. My voice is very important to me, but that afternoon, all I cared about was screaming—voice be damned.

  FUN FACTNER: Recording Searching for Major Tom is the reason there was almost a $#*! My Dad Says episode called “Ed Needs a Lozenge.”

  I began to school myself in the metal arts. There is now Iron Maiden on my iPod. They are one of the few artists on my iPod. And they have so far made nice with the assorted jazz tunes and NPR podcasts I’ve downloaded. Although I think Fear of the Dark can most certainly beat up A Prairie Home Companion.

  RULE: Keep Your Prairie Home Companion References to a Minimum While Promoting Your Heavy Metal Album

  And with the album done, I found myself in a stretch limousine, headed off to the Golden Gods Awards. I didn’t know what awaited me. Elizabeth and I wore black, I knew that much. And I tried to prep for all the questions I’d be asked on the black carpet.

  QUESTIONS ASKED OF WILLIAM SHATNER ON THE BLACK CARPET OF THE REVOLVER GOLDEN GODS AWARDS

  Why are you here?

  What are you doing here?

  Why the hell are you here?

  Do you know where you are?

  Seriously, why are you here?

  Do you know where I can get my parking validated, dude?

  I eventually made it down the carpet, enjoyed a long interview with former Skid Row frontman Sebastian Bach, posed for pictures with Sebastian Bach, and then later entertained more questions from Sebastian Bach. Dude’s got a mancrush!

  Eventually we made it to my shared Metallica waiting area. They still hadn’t showed up when it was time for me to be presented with my award. Elizabeth took the RESERVED FOR METALLICA/WILLIAM SHATNER sign as a souvenir. That’s a pairing that shouldn’t happen. There is such a thing as “too” metal.

  Backstage, it occurred to me that I hadn’t prepared a speech. This was unlike me, especially after lecturing Ben (fold) Folds about preparation and punctuality. I began to go over a few of the things I could say to win over the crowd of metalheads.

  “I have gone where no man has gone before. And tonight—I go to eleven!”

  “There’s a hearse in the parking lot with its lights on, license plate 666.”

  “All hail Satan!”

  I had nothing, and then they called my name. The crowd r
oared.

  And they roared metal. Raw, uninhibited, pure energy. Before me was a sea of people, men and women, all clad in black with leather, spikes, and studs everywhere, cheering me on.

  Had any of them ever spent a Saturday afternoon listening to the Metropolitan Opera with their father? Who knows—maybe? All music has the power to unite people. And metal has united these people strong. They are welded to the sound.

  I finally got to the mic, and all I could feel was the energy and emotion of the crowd. I was handed my statue (of Stonehenge—a tribute to Spinal Tap), I raised it aloft and shouted . . .

  “FUCKING GNARLY!”

  I think I was using it right.

  FOURTH RULE FOR TURNING 80: Get. Out. Of. Bed.

  And this may be the most important rule of all. You don’t necessarily have to be eighty for it to be important. But if you are eighty, it is something you must do.

  When I turned forty, I didn’t get out of bed for three days.

  Forty was tough. I was divorced. I was often not employed to the level I wanted to be. I had just come off the road from touring in summer stock and dinner theater productions, living out of a truck.

  Not “living out of a truck” the way one “lives out of a suitcase.” I was living in a truck. With my dog. When I would travel from town to town, I would shower inside the theater, perform, greet the fans, and then go to bed in a truck. Clearly my finances were not what they should have been.

  RULE: You Can’t Be a Swinging Bachelor If Your Bachelor Pad Gets Towed for Being Too Close to a Hydrant

  It’s hard being broke when you’re an actor. In most any other profession, if you hit rock bottom, if you’ve spent your last dime, you can shift gears without anyone noticing. I was drained financially after my divorce settlement, and I couldn’t hide, couldn’t shift gears.

  “Hey, that temp in accounting? Didn’t he used to be on that Star Trek show? Tell him to beam up my expense reports.”

  As an actor, you might have made next to nothing on your last movie, but you had better show up to the premiere dressed to the nines or, as Hollywood often demands, dressed to the tens. Nobody wants to hear that 10 percent of your earnings went to your agent, another 10 to your lawyer, and maybe even 15 went to your manager and the other 65 percent to your ex-wife. They just demand you be famous and appear famous.

  The best way to be successful in Hollywood is to seem successful, no matter the cost. The sweet smell of success can overpower the stench of failure.

  Thankfully, forty years later, I’m in much better shape. Daniel Ellsberg mentioned to me while taping our Raw Nerve interview that miracles happen all the time—miracles are just the things that happen that you don’t expect. I wish I could go back in time and share Ellsberg’s wisdom with the forty-year-old me.

  Eighty is great. I’m married, financially secure, and have work whenever I want it.

  But here’s the thing . . .

  When I woke up on my fortieth birthday, I felt like my career was over. That was terrible.

  When I woke up on my eightieth birthday, I felt that might life might be over soon. That was terrifying.

  I thought I was prepared for March 22, 2011. What is eighty, other than a number? I’m in good shape; all the horse riding has been great for my legs and my upper body strength. I feel great; I take my vitamins and exercise every day. (I don’t use skin creams or cosmetics, though. I’m an actor, but I’m not that much of an actor.)

  But the terror of dying felt very keen that morning in the darkness of my bedroom.

  God, I’m going to die. Very soon, I thought to myself. Everyone knows they are going to die, no matter how much they deny it, but once you’re eighty, you’re now actually on a deadline.

  Elisabeth Kübler-Ross outlines the five stages of grief in her book On Death and Dying. They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I had already jumped to my own “acceptance,” and I hadn’t even gotten out of my pajamas yet.

  RULE: Do Not Keep Elisabeth Kübler-Ross on Your Nightstand. Shatner Rules Is a Slightly Lighter Read.

  There are some people who view death as an adventure. I once heard that Timothy Leary’s last words were, “Of course.” At the moment of death he saw the logic of the universe. What a joyous celebration of the unknown! That line alone offers me more comfort than any one of the supposed five people you meet in Heaven.

  You know who else saw death as an adventure?

  Kirk.

  I never played Kirk with fear. Kirk was never frightened; he was always amazed, curious. And that’s how I approached his death, once it became clear that the executives at Paramount were hell bent on killing him off.

  What would Captain Kirk feel at the moment of death, having lived his life looking at the strangest animals and the strangest things?

  Captain Kirk would look at death with awe and wonder. He wouldn’t run from it; he would move forward toward it. I imagined that Captain Kirk would look at whatever death is—blackness, lightness, the devil, God, nothing—and wonder Where am I going? without fear. I’m on another step on the journey. What’s the next step after this one?

  Kirk’s final words upon his death in Star Trek: Generations were, “Oh my.” No fear. No fear at all!

  So, this attitude of Kirk’s can be used to prove one thing, once and for all.

  I am not Captain James T. Kirk.

  On my eightieth birthday, I just lay there in my terror, no awe or wonder to be found. I wish I could stampede over to a belief system that offered me a convenient afterlife and a benevolent God. That kind of thing requires faith, and I don’t have it. I would love to be nurtured in the arms of someone ecclesiastical when I die, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.

  The fear that I had that morning marking my eightieth year comes from the loneliness in all of our souls; this is the promontory that every human being stands on. We yearn to be joined with someone or something. We strive all our lives to do so with marriage and children and friends and family and clans and country and patriotism and pets—yes, pets—and even sometimes objects that aren’t alive, statues, concepts like God, cults. Whatever.

  But even in the holiest of holy people, I have to think that deep down there exists doubt. That doubt is in me, it consumes me. We’re all alone; in the end, we’re all alone, I thought in my bed on the first morning of my eightieth year. And you have to suffer through those feelings by yourself.

  Elizabeth rolled over and wished me a happy birthday.

  RULE: Marry Someone Who Remembers Your Birthday

  I might not believe in the standard view of God. I might not believe in an afterlife. But I most certainly believe in love. There’s proof of it. It’s all around me, I can touch it, and I can experience it. It will protect me from the existential terror of my failure to exist.

  It finally occurred to me—when I turned forty, I could afford three days to lie in bed. At eighty—I don’t have that luxury. The clock keeps ticking.

  Get. Out. Of. Bed.

  Even if you’re lying in bed next to Elizabeth, one of the greatest individuals I’ve ever encountered. She is enormously kind and has a great capacity for love. She’s highly intelligent, has a great sense of humor, and is very empathetic. She understands so much.

  And she throws a great party.

  Toward the end of the run of Boston Legal, Denny Crane was given a great line: “I live my life as though I’m in a television show.” That one hits home. I’ve been coming into people’s homes for nearly sixty years now, and I’m not quite ready for cancellation. So let’s cue the music, and

  CUT TO • INT • SHATNER HOME

  MARCH 22, 2011 • FADE IN:

  We see WILLIAM SHATNER, 80—not ready to fade out—surrounded by loved ones, smiling.

  Elizabeth really does throw a great party. We were su
rrounded with friends, family, and my dogs, Starbuck and Cappuccino (who thankfully decided not to tear up their doggy beds for the occasion). Elizabeth even hired a drum circle.

  And it was a drum circle indoors, because there was a monsoon outside. If there is a God, I think he was jealous of all the fun I was having.

  There’s a song I wrote for Has Been called “It Hasn’t Happened Yet.” It sums up perfectly those feelings of loneliness and failure that have chased me all my life.

  As the carillon sang its song

  I dreamt of success.

  I would be the best.

  I would make my folks proud.

  I would be happy . . .

  —It hasn’t happened yet

  —It hasn’t happened yet

  —It hasn’t happened

  Among my many gifts was a plate from Elizabeth, which bore the legend IT HAPPENED.

  As the party and evening progressed, the storm grew even more violent; it felt like the afterparty the night of the Golden Gods Awards. We were all in a tent, and the drumming of the rain threatened to drown out the drumming of the drummers. The hillside behind my house began to collapse, trees began to fall.

  Would this army of love around me protect me from the elements, from the unknown, from certain disaster, and despair, and loneliness? From the dark specter of inevitable death?

  As Timothy Leary might say, “Of course.”

  Besides, how can I die when I have so many lifetime achievement awards to collect?

  CHAPTER 25

  RULE: Don’t Die. You’ll Miss Out on All the Lifetime Achievement Awards.

  I don’t know why more people don’t follow this rule. Seriously, dying is a bore! And lifetime achievement awards are a lot of fun.