Between a Heart and a Rock Place_ A Memoir Part 9

What a crazy thing to say, out of the blue. I barely know this guy.

"Oh no, no," I responded. "We can't have children."

A shot of me was on the big screen, and he paused the footage, walked over to me, and looked intensely into my eyes. Then he smiled.

"Look here," he said, walking over to the big screen and pointing at my face. "You see there in your eye-a little light. You are are with child!" with child!"

At first, I thought to myself, Wow, this guy spent way too much time in the sun yesterday Wow, this guy spent way too much time in the sun yesterday. But then I started thinking about how awful the shoot had been, how sick I'd felt, and how my clothes didn't fit. I didn't want to hope, but immediately I made an appointment to see my ob-gyn the next day. The blood test confirmed what the director had seen in my eyes the day before: I was pregnant.

I couldn't believe it; two years of trying and testing, and suddenly it was a reality. Even the girls in the doctor's office cried. I didn't know how to tell Spyder. I needed something special. On my way to meet him at the MCA Whitney studio, where we were recording, I bought a pair of knitted infant booties.

"Where've you been?" he asked curiously when I finally arrived.

"Editing and the doctor's office."

"The doctor's? How come?"

I placed the gift-wrapped box with the baby shoes inside on the recording console. He opened it and stared down at its contents. For a couple of moments, he froze. He looked up at me, stood, and went straight into the bathroom. He didn't come out for thirty minutes. When he finally came out, he headed straight for me and said, "Is it true?"

I smiled and said, "Yes."

The atmosphere in MCA Whitney shifted immediately. Everyone was overwhelmed by the news. They'd all known how difficult it had been for Spyder and me those last two years. The announcement elicited a collective sigh of relief from everyone in our lives. Immediately all of the nerves and stress that went into recording just melted away. Who had time to fret when we'd been blessed with the seemingly impossible?

And so making Tropico Tropico became one of the best recording experiences either of us ever had. I was euphoric and felt completely inspired. We felt we were making a record that had been blessed with a miracle. The entire band was so relaxed, and all of us were curious to try new arrangements. Being pregnant permeated the entire process. Pregnancy makes all the long muscles in your body relax, and your vocal cords are a long muscle. Suddenly I found that I could do things vocally that I'd never been able to do before. And once I did, I was able to re-create that sound even without the pregnancy hormones. I've never had an easier time singing than when I was pregnant. To hear Spyder tell it, it was the most cooperative I'd ever been (but it was over as soon as I gave birth). became one of the best recording experiences either of us ever had. I was euphoric and felt completely inspired. We felt we were making a record that had been blessed with a miracle. The entire band was so relaxed, and all of us were curious to try new arrangements. Being pregnant permeated the entire process. Pregnancy makes all the long muscles in your body relax, and your vocal cords are a long muscle. Suddenly I found that I could do things vocally that I'd never been able to do before. And once I did, I was able to re-create that sound even without the pregnancy hormones. I've never had an easier time singing than when I was pregnant. To hear Spyder tell it, it was the most cooperative I'd ever been (but it was over as soon as I gave birth).

Unfortunately, our good moods couldn't control the fact that I periodically had to deal with the realities of pregnancy. By the time we were filming the video for "We Belong," I was a few months along and suffering from morning sickness. Throughout the shoot, when I felt sick, I'd run to the bathroom, throw up, brush my teeth, reapply lipstick, and then go back for another take. The whole time I had saltine crackers in the pocket of my jacket, and I'd eat the crackers in the hope that they would curb my queasiness.

Morning sickness aside, I found being pregnant and recording to go pretty well together-that is, until Chrysalis heard about what was going on. When Chrysalis got wind that I was pregnant, they were definitely not not thrilled. They wanted it to be a guarded secret. They didn't want any photos taken of me once I started to show, and they didn't want me talking about babies in interviews. And of course, they made it clear that they wanted me to go right back to my vixen self as soon as that baby was born and get right back on tour. No time off. Not during the pregnancy and not afterward. I guess they thought the audiences wouldn't notice that I was pregnant and that journalists wouldn't ask about it. I told them that they could kiss my a.s.s. thrilled. They wanted it to be a guarded secret. They didn't want any photos taken of me once I started to show, and they didn't want me talking about babies in interviews. And of course, they made it clear that they wanted me to go right back to my vixen self as soon as that baby was born and get right back on tour. No time off. Not during the pregnancy and not afterward. I guess they thought the audiences wouldn't notice that I was pregnant and that journalists wouldn't ask about it. I told them that they could kiss my a.s.s.

"This is my life," I told them. And I meant it. I was all about family.

For his part, Newman was happy for us but worried about the impact this would have on my career. It meant we'd have to take time off (what a concept) and that my image would be changed in everyone's eyes.

"Why would you do something like this?"

He was an old friend. So I attempted to explain how unhappy Spyder and I had been when we thought we might never have children and how excited we were to find out that we were finally pregnant. Newman wanted the best for us, but he was also concerned about how the pregnancy would complicate things.

For the first several months of my pregnancy, I continued to work on Tropico, Tropico, making the video for "Ooh Ooh Song" in addition to the videos for "Painted Desert" and "We Belong." Eventually though, Chrysalis insisted that I rest, not because they cared about my well-being but because they didn't want me to be seen. They were adamant that no one get a shot of me when I was pregnant. I wore big coats and loose clothing to hide it. At one point, I was actually chased by the paparazzi, which was unusual in those days, as I was coming out of a movie theater on Fifty-seventh Street in New York. Luckily I was with my old friend Cynthia Zimmer, who proceeded to chase away the photographers with her gigantic Louis Vuitton bag. Needless to say, no one ever saw a photo of me pregnant. making the video for "Ooh Ooh Song" in addition to the videos for "Painted Desert" and "We Belong." Eventually though, Chrysalis insisted that I rest, not because they cared about my well-being but because they didn't want me to be seen. They were adamant that no one get a shot of me when I was pregnant. I wore big coats and loose clothing to hide it. At one point, I was actually chased by the paparazzi, which was unusual in those days, as I was coming out of a movie theater on Fifty-seventh Street in New York. Luckily I was with my old friend Cynthia Zimmer, who proceeded to chase away the photographers with her gigantic Louis Vuitton bag. Needless to say, no one ever saw a photo of me pregnant.

It may sound amusing, not to mention ridiculous, but it wasn't funny at the time. In fact, it was terribly upsetting. This was the 1980s and I was a married woman, yet Chrysalis treated me like some Hollywood starlet from the fifties who'd been knocked up out of wedlock. My pregnancy was something to be ashamed of instead of celebrated. It was insulting, not to mention s.e.xist. It was discrimination in the workplace, plain and simple. I shouldn't have been shocked, but I was. They had spent years objectifying me, but somehow I thought pregnancy would be different. This was about the beauty of childbirth; this was about my life, my family. This should have been off-limits.

Of course all of these frustrations evaporated with the birth of our beautiful daughter Haley on February 16, 1985. She came into the world demurely, no crying, no purple baby skin. Just beautiful eyes shining and bright, with a full head of black hair and eyelashes that looked like caterpillars draped over her eyelids. Spyder and I were overjoyed. At last, we were a family. Everything about our lives was changed the second she drew her first breath. It was a new day. The playing field was about to be leveled, by a seven-pound infant.

FOR EVERY DAY SINCE I was old enough to think, I've considered myself a feminist. Even before I knew what that word meant, I was one. From early on, I believed that it was my job to advocate for women's rights in every context because we were equal to men in every way. I believed that if you protected the rights of one group, all groups' rights would be protected. It was simple, it was pure, and as a young girl growing up in the sixties, it was my mantra. I was old enough to think, I've considered myself a feminist. Even before I knew what that word meant, I was one. From early on, I believed that it was my job to advocate for women's rights in every context because we were equal to men in every way. I believed that if you protected the rights of one group, all groups' rights would be protected. It was simple, it was pure, and as a young girl growing up in the sixties, it was my mantra.

In my parents' house, feminism wasn't theoretical; it was being practiced every day. Everyone's paycheck counted and everyone was expected to do their share of child rearing, grocery shopping, and dish washing. My parents did this without debate or bitterness. It was simply their way of life. They loved each other and respected the contribution each of them made to the family. This was the atmosphere that I grew up in. It never occurred to me that women could be regarded as inferior.

I could have been the poster child for feminism in America. I read everything I could get my hands on, attended rallies at school, and protested discrimination against women on the railroad tracks in the middle of town. As I got older, squishing all those worms on my bare legs to prove myself to the boys paid off big-time, helping me sc.r.a.pe my way through high school, life as a military wife, the South, and the boys' club of rock and roll. I forged a path for myself where there wasn't one before, putting up with lecherous radio program directors, s.e.xist record executives, and all their sleazy brethren. Now, at long last, I was someone's mother. My life-both professional and personal-would never be the same.

From the first moment I held that baby in my arms, I knew things would be different. For all my bl.u.s.tering and battling, I'd spent six long years being vetoed or coerced into doing things I didn't want to do. I'd made concessions because I didn't want to be a b.i.t.c.h or cause problems for the band or upset Newman, or because of whatever stupid reason I used to rationalize allowing them. With Haley in my arms, I knew those days were over. I had something to protect that trumped all else: my daughter's future. Now every artistic and financial decision would impact her life. It wasn't just about Spyder and me anymore.

Of course just because Haley was born didn't mean that Chrysalis was about to change their ways. They hadn't had much regard for our personal lives before, and they sure as h.e.l.l didn't after. It was difficult enough being a first-time mother without their ha.s.sling. Ask any new mom how ominous it is to suddenly be responsible for the care and well-being of an exquisite little creature whom you love more than your own life. It's terrifying. Complicating things for me was the fact that when Haley was born I knew nothing nothing. I'd never even babysat when I was a young girl. I had no idea what I was doing. Not to mention that being an entertainer brought a whole new set of problems. I knew women who were married to rock stars and who had their babies with them when they traveled. But when I had Haley, I knew few female rock stars to begin with, let alone female rock stars with babies. There's no handbook for being a rocker girl with a newborn baby.

At heart, though, I was simply a working mother, and working mothers are all pretty much the same. Our profession is incidental. We all feel like we have no grip, like there aren't enough hands or hours in the day. Every one of us has to choose between our child and our job every day-and it sucks. There's absolutely nothing worse than having to pry the fingers of your sick-with-a-101-degree-temperature toddler off your body and walk out the door to go to work. It's horrible, even when "work" is performing at Madison Square Garden.

One of the most rea.s.suring things I heard around that time was something Chrissie Hynde told me when I ran into her at an event where she had brought her little girl, who was born about six months before Haley. I'd met Chrissie a couple of times while we were on the road. I'd long admired her work. I loved her voice and I appreciated her unorthodox att.i.tude. But she was dark and moody. There was a distance she possessed. We never really connected, but we were acquaintances and new mothers. I asked her how it was going, being a new mother and a rocker. I hoped maybe, since she was six months ahead of me in the mom department, she would have some good advice or insight.

"How are you doing this?" I asked in desperation. She shook her head.

"I'm not doing it! I'm not doing it not doing it! I'm just trying to get through the day-every day." day."

Oh, c.r.a.p! I couldn't believe that she was telling me it didn't get any easier. But once I thought it over, I realized that what she'd said was priceless. I knew that I was no different than anyone else. It's the hardest job that you'll ever love. And it I couldn't believe that she was telling me it didn't get any easier. But once I thought it over, I realized that what she'd said was priceless. I knew that I was no different than anyone else. It's the hardest job that you'll ever love. And it is is your job. I'll never try to perpetuate the big lie-that you can do it all easily. But I will tell you that it's worth every minute of it. your job. I'll never try to perpetuate the big lie-that you can do it all easily. But I will tell you that it's worth every minute of it.

I started being very honest about what being a new mom on the road was like, and I never stopped telling people the truth. Years later, when I had my second daughter, Hana, I remember a young journalist explaining how other singers readied themselves for their shows.

"I've heard that Mariah Carey lies down in the back of the bus and doesn't take her head off the pillow," the woman said. "Her a.s.sistants bring her a warm liquid that she sips through a straw to keep her vocal cords loose."

I nodded. Okay.

"And Celine Dion doesn't speak for twenty-four hours before a concert," the woman continued. "How is it with you?"

So I told her how it was with me.

"Here's what I do. I'm standing in the bathroom on the bus trying to put on mascara for the show. My two-year-old is sitting on the potty saying, 'Mommy, wipe me!' That's how I get ready."

The young woman, who was only twenty-three years old, was horrified. Horrified! Horrified!

"Oh..." was about all she managed to get out. I just smiled. I didn't say anything. I didn't need to.

I'm not sure she got it, unless maybe the day came when she went to a meeting with baby puke on her blouse or had to wipe a child's bottom while trying to get ready for something. As for me, I decided that to be a parent is to develop your sense of humor. I decided I rather liked the idea of being Erma Bombeck with an edge.

Ultimately, what I discovered with Haley was a hard lesson that many women, before and after, have been forced to confront: no matter how wonderful having your baby is, there is a big lie about how you can easily have it all as a working mother. The truth is, you can have it all, but it ain't gonna be easy. It's not like they told you-they lied about motherhood and careers. It's harder than you think it's gonna be. You can do it, and I think you should do it. But go in with your eyes wide open, and know that sometimes people won't try to make it easier for you. They won't realize that your children-your family-must come first, and the career second.

And that that was the part the feminists conveniently left out. There was no mention of how the scent of a newborn could render you incapable of making a clear decision. No explanation of how love-drunk you would be because of baby spit and chubby little fingers. No sense of how some primal bond hard-wired in your brain could cause you to do unthinkable things-like want to stay home and be a wife and mother. was the part the feminists conveniently left out. There was no mention of how the scent of a newborn could render you incapable of making a clear decision. No explanation of how love-drunk you would be because of baby spit and chubby little fingers. No sense of how some primal bond hard-wired in your brain could cause you to do unthinkable things-like want to stay home and be a wife and mother.

But that's exactly what happened. In the weeks and months immediately after Haley's birth, my brain went smooth. I couldn't write, I didn't want to sing-I just wanted to be with my baby. "We Belong" had missed the deadline to be nominated for a Grammy, and so for the first time in four years, I didn't win one. That wasn't the strange part, though. The strange part was that I didn't even care.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE HARD WAY.

THE DISTANCE THAT H HALEY'S birth put between my music and me quickly became a problem. I had a bunch of dudes around me who wanted to continue with the status quo. Keeping things as they had been was their goal, and they did not want to negotiate this next chapter. birth put between my music and me quickly became a problem. I had a bunch of dudes around me who wanted to continue with the status quo. Keeping things as they had been was their goal, and they did not want to negotiate this next chapter.

Almost immediately after I'd given birth to Haley, a litany of comments from Chrysalis began in an attempt to motivate me back to work by warning me that there could be backlash about me having a baby.

"No one wants to see a rocker who's someone's mother. Mothers aren't s.e.xy."

"You downplay this; no talking about the baby, no photos with the baby."

"You need to make everyone forget it ever happened. You need to a.s.sure them that nothing's changed. That you're still the hard-core rocker girl you've always been."

At first I dismissed all this as their typical insulting bulls.h.i.t, but after hearing this chorus for long enough, I started to believe it. They made me feel that by becoming a mother, I'd risked my entire career. It got under my skin. I started to convince myself that the only way to stay on top was to rush back into things. I became panicked. What if they were even half-right? I didn't want to make a mistake and mess everything up for our future, for Haley's future. So I did what needed to be done: I pulled my new mother self together and went to work. And that was how in 1985, approximately three months after giving birth to Haley, I found myself recording the song "Invincible."

"Invincible" had come to us through our friend Holly Knight, who'd also written "Love Is a Battlefield." She'd written the song for a film called The Legend of Billie Jean, The Legend of Billie Jean, and not long after Haley was born, she approached us to see if we were interested in recording it. In a perfect world this opportunity would have come six months later, allowing me to settle into motherhood, but unfortunately it didn't. I really wasn't ready on any level. I was just beginning to get a routine with Haley, figuring out how to avoid falling asleep on my feet. But there I was back in the studio laying down vocals. When it came time to shoot the video, I hadn't even lost all my pregnancy weight, and we ended up incorporating live performance footage with scenes from the film. and not long after Haley was born, she approached us to see if we were interested in recording it. In a perfect world this opportunity would have come six months later, allowing me to settle into motherhood, but unfortunately it didn't. I really wasn't ready on any level. I was just beginning to get a routine with Haley, figuring out how to avoid falling asleep on my feet. But there I was back in the studio laying down vocals. When it came time to shoot the video, I hadn't even lost all my pregnancy weight, and we ended up incorporating live performance footage with scenes from the film.

Even though the movie "Invincible" was made for ended up being a bit forgettable, the song itself was a smash, a top-ten song in the U.S. It was the hit that everyone had wanted to keep us visible, but it also had another consequence: it whetted Chrysalis's appet.i.te. They didn't want just one hit single-they wanted a full alb.u.m.

With the success of "Invincible" fresh in their minds, everyone pushed us to go back into the studio. This time, though, it was clear this wasn't about my career and staying in the game, it was about their bottom line plain and simple. What they didn't understand was how not ready we were for undertaking an entire alb.u.m. It was one thing to bang out one song, but to craft an entire alb.u.m so soon after having a baby was unfathomable.

When Chrysalis started making noise about a full alb.u.m, our entire world was consumed by Haley-as it should have been. We knew we didn't have the focus necessary to get the job done. At that point, the most important thing on our agenda was trying to figure out how to achieve something resembling a sustainable routine. Haley wasn't even sleeping through the night. I was up and down at all hours breast-feeding her and living in a perpetual state of exhaustion. I was in no position to do much of anything, let alone write, rehea.r.s.e, and record an alb.u.m.

In most professional musical families, the husband and wife don't usually work together, and this means they have different schedules, making it easier to take turns caring for their kids. Alternatively, one of them is a layperson who can stay at home while the other is off touring or recording. In our case, we had the same schedule. If I was working, Spyder was working. It was a logistical challenge. We didn't want to hire a nanny to take care of this baby we'd waited so long to have. We We wanted to do it. It's the same struggle all working parents go through. I wanted to stay home, but I knew that would be a mistake professionally, and Chrysalis did not waste an opportunity to remind me of that. wanted to do it. It's the same struggle all working parents go through. I wanted to stay home, but I knew that would be a mistake professionally, and Chrysalis did not waste an opportunity to remind me of that.

In truth, Chrysalis had bigger problems than dealing with me. The infrastructure of the record company was in the process of a major transition. Over the course of 1985, Terry made it clear that he wanted out, and eventually he sold his share of the company to his cofounder, Chris Wright. This was a stunning, jaw-dropping change. As much as Terry was a pain in the a.s.s, the man knew the record business. He knew how to bring an alb.u.m to market and how to get it sold. We weren't so sure how things would go with Chris, but the immediate result of Terry's departure was disarray.

Still, the shakeup with Terry and Chris didn't stop Chrysalis from demanding a new alb.u.m. On the contrary, the banging only got louder as it became clear they needed another hit record as soon as possible. When I told everyone-including my management-about the realities of having a three-week-old baby, the men made light of it, shrugged it off. I begged Chrysalis for a little more time, but they wouldn't go for it. They didn't want to lose the momentum created by "Invincible." Strategically, I couldn't argue with them-they were dead right-but on a human level, it couldn't have been more callous. As always, they retreated behind their contract and used that to get what they wanted-no matter how unreasonable it was.

Their shortsightedness was staggering. They were willing to sacrifice all of our futures for one more shot at making some money. Meanwhile the record label as we knew it was disintegrating around us, and the new record that they so desperately wanted us to record would suffer for it. But everyone continued with the same lines they'd been using for years: "You gotta get in the studio. You gotta get in there." We had no choice; we packed up the baby, got my parents to babysit, and went in to record.

In gambling, c.r.a.ps to be specific, the term "the hard way" refers to rolling doubles to get four, six, eight, or ten. It's difficult. Since you can't roll doubles and get an odd number, "seven, the hard way" is slang for an impossible bet. That's what this record was all about, an impossibility-seven alb.u.ms in seven years. Hence the eventual t.i.tle of the alb.u.m, Seven the Hard Way Seven the Hard Way.

Life in the studio on Seven the Hard Way Seven the Hard Way was a cruel comedown from the emotional high we'd felt making was a cruel comedown from the emotional high we'd felt making Tropico Tropico. There was none of the smoothness or ease that we'd encountered with Tropico Tropico. This time, everything was a struggle, everybody was agitated, and all of that showed in the final product. There was bickering and fried nerves-not to mention a general lack of cohesion between us and between the cuts themselves. By the end of it, everyone just wanted me to go back to being pregnant.

Att.i.tude was only one part of the problem. Simply put, we didn't have any songs ready. We'd always gone in to make a record with at least half of it written. This time we had nothing. Nothing! And Chrysalis shrugged that off as well. Just write something Just write something. So while we were trying to record, we were also trying to write the songs. We knew all too well what our process was for writing songs, and writing with the clock ticking in the back of our minds was not a good way to unleash our best material. During the recording, we ended up writing a few good songs that would have become great songs had we been able to work in our usual way, but there was no time. Instead, we recorded songs that hadn't fully evolved, songs that never should have been released. Songs that we weren't even finished writing, for G.o.d's sake! We accepted outside material because we had to, but even then the alb.u.m only contained nine songs, which was ridiculous because normally we had twenty or so contenders from which we'd choose ten to fourteen tracks.

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of all this was that many of the tracks were almost there, and knowing that felt so much worse than if we'd missed the mark altogether. It was heartbreaking that we'd spent our whole career striving for such a high level of integrity in everything we did, only to have it end up here. More than ever we saw ourselves for the commodities that we were to the label. They didn't care about us, they didn't care about our future, and they sure as s.h.i.t didn't care about our family.

I kept lecturing myself to get a grip, but when you are a first-time mother you can't get a grip. You're doing well if you can hang on, feed and change the baby, and maybe-just maybe-get a little sleep. I was always very picky about recording. I wanted everything and everybody to be the best possible. I wanted to work my b.u.t.t off and have everyone else doing the same. And I didn't want to hear any sissy crying about hard work, either. But there were not enough hours in the day to pull that off this time.

I was so exhausted and distracted that I couldn't do my job, and Spyder was so worried about me that he couldn't do his. I'd be ready to sing and Haley would start crying. We took a Winnebago to the studio every day, and we set up a porta-crib in the studio. Between recording sessions, Haley and I retreated to the RV, but when I was singing, I was often distractedly worrying that Haley was hungry or wanting her mama. The problem was, I couldn't just run back in and check on her. It's virtually impossible to get a cohesive vocal if you're constantly starting and stopping, because you lose all your momentum. This meant I had to continue singing until we got the take. That was just how it had to work. By the time I'd get back to Haley, we were both crying.

In the end, only Crimes of Pa.s.sion Crimes of Pa.s.sion surpa.s.sed this record in terms of difficulty and tension. Of all our alb.u.ms, surpa.s.sed this record in terms of difficulty and tension. Of all our alb.u.ms, Seven the Hard Way Seven the Hard Way cost the most to make and sold the least. The record came out in November 1985, but it was not a huge success, peaking at number 26 and only achieving gold record status, with 500,000 copies sold. It was the first time in seven years that we'd made a record that didn't sell a least a million copies. I was stunned but not surprised. We'd made a record we had no business making, at a time when the record company had no business selling it. cost the most to make and sold the least. The record came out in November 1985, but it was not a huge success, peaking at number 26 and only achieving gold record status, with 500,000 copies sold. It was the first time in seven years that we'd made a record that didn't sell a least a million copies. I was stunned but not surprised. We'd made a record we had no business making, at a time when the record company had no business selling it.

Perhaps the worst part of all this was that making this alb.u.m at this pace was completely unnecessary. Even just a little sensitivity on their part, a little flexibility in scheduling, would have made all the difference in the world. (Spyder still dreams of taking all of our original songs from that record and crafting them into their true potential. It would be closure-maybe one day.) If they'd been willing to give us just a couple of more months and a bit more s.p.a.ce, we would have returned to the studio ready to do what needed to be done. After all, making records was our job, and we knew as well as anyone that we weren't ready to stop doing what we loved. We just needed time to achieve a balance between being parents and being musicians. But that kind of lat.i.tude was not in the cards.

The hardest thing to stomach was that I knew they were manipulating me. All of the clarity I'd experienced in the immediate aftermath of becoming a mother was still present, but I was simply too beaten down by exhaustion and fear of making the wrong decision to do anything about it. They knew all of this. They could see it in my face and hear it in my voice. They knew I was struggling, and they used it against us.

Ironically, despite our dissatisfaction with the final result and the lower sales figures, the reviews were good. Rolling Stone Rolling Stone's Tim Holmes wrote: "Behind the scenes, producer-guitarist-songwriter Neil Giraldo uses the studio like a machete to help Pat slice through the th.o.r.n.y entanglements of relationships. Pat and Neil seem to be a match made in AOR heaven. Their approach combines the sonic bombast of yarbling metal with the intelligence and compa.s.sion of feminism. Railing against the constraints of male-dominated power rock, Pat Benatar sings her lungs out with the kind of sentiments that the rock boize might address if only they had the b.a.l.l.s. The alb.u.m is an emotional combat zone."

Interestingly, without any inside information, Holmes made a shrewd observation: "Luck has little to do with [Benatar's] position as the apotheosis of Eighties American womanhood-she got there through experience."

d.a.m.n straight.

THE MINUTE THE RECORD was released in early 1986, we went out on the road. Naturally, this time out everything about touring changed. With a young baby in tow, life on the bus would never be the same. was released in early 1986, we went out on the road. Naturally, this time out everything about touring changed. With a young baby in tow, life on the bus would never be the same.

Strangely enough, Haley seemed to love all the traveling, and in fact touring with her was easier than it had been to record with her. During the recording, we'd been working twelve-to-sixteen-hour days with hours on end spent apart from her, but in our insulated world on the road, the schedule was much more manageable, not to mention predictable. Kids thrive on routine, and because of the strict schedule that touring requires, routine was the one thing we had plenty of. I only had two responsibilities every day: be with Haley and perform. Of course, there were also press events and photo sessions, but for the most part my schedule eased up much more than in the past. With Haley around, it was impossible for me to go to radio stations and do endless press like I'd done in the past, so a lot of those options were simply taken off the table. While this gave us more time to be together as a family, it was definitely part of what hurt record sales. It was, however, a price we were willing to pay.

The entire day was organized around naps and feedings. Calling ahead to promoters to find out the best restaurant in town was replaced with locating the closest Chuck E. Cheese or playground. We carted a ton of c.r.a.p with us-cribs, playpens, strollers, anything and everything we thought we might need. Haley even had her own Anvil cases for toys. (Later on when our second daughter, Hana, was small and I had learned not to drag around so much stuff, we were in a hotel lobby in New York when a tour bus pulled up. Some crew people got out and proceeded to unload a ton of baby gear. It turned out to be Bruce Springsteen's bus, and his wife Patti was there with their kids. Spyder and I just chuckled, remembering the days when we did the same.) Even though we'd been touring for years and had played in these cities hundreds of times before, this time was different. We got to explore cities through Haley's eyes, creating wonderful memories along the way. She learned to walk in Minneapolis and had her first birthday in Detroit. She loved the bus. It made her sleep better, which was a blessing because I needed to sleep in order to sing. When she wasn't sleeping on the bus, she was taking in the outside world as it flew by the oversized gla.s.s of the tinted windows.

On that tour, my philosophy about many things changed. I didn't want to put on an outrageous show. I wanted to give the audience a layered offering of our music. It was less about the act, more about the music. While this shift made sense for a lot of reasons, my voice paid the toll for that road, too. Because my vocal cords had gotten no rest, I started having throat problems for the first time in my life. I truly felt like I was the caboose of this train, being pulled along with no chance to ever catch up to the rest of it. Doctors were brought in, but all they could do was tell me to take a break from singing and shoot cortisone in my throat.

The whole tour was supposed to stretch out over a period of a few months without interruption. We didn't even have a chance to come home. All this would have been fine if I'd been in great physical shape, but I wasn't. Of course, when I asked them if I could take a few dates off so that my voice could recover, their answer was a resounding no.

"Look, if you don't do these five shows, here's how much we'll lose. You've got to look at the bottom line. You may want a day off, but we're still paying the crew. Look how much that costs!"

When I'd resist, which was most of the time, they'd bring out the big gun: "You've got forty employees who depend on you. Do you want to be responsible for them not getting paid? Those people have families."

That was what always got me. They used my nature against me. Those guys all knew that I was a straight shooter, always the good girl trying to do the right thing. I was a conscientious, ethical person. And they knew that talking about people depending on me would bring me around every time. It's my worst character flaw-not so much guilt as it is that I simply cannot quit. No matter the circ.u.mstance, I will be compelled to complete something if I've committed to it-regardless of whether or not I should. The knowledge that people were depending on me only exacerbated this personality trait, pushing aside what was right for me in favor of what was right for others.

I let them bully me into doing what they asked and I stayed out on tour. I couldn't quit and they knew it. Each time they pulled that I said to myself: This is sickening! They are just playing you, figuring out the way to make you do something that is not in your best interest. Not if you want to keep your voice, anyway. This is sickening! They are just playing you, figuring out the way to make you do something that is not in your best interest. Not if you want to keep your voice, anyway.

But instead of telling them I was onto their tricks, I usually said, "Okay. I can do it. I can do it."

And I did.

WHEN THE TOUR WAS finally over, we returned home and at last got some time off. It was the first time in seven years that we were home and finally over, we returned home and at last got some time off. It was the first time in seven years that we were home and not not working in some capacity. This was a wonderful period for our family. We were basically having a "normal" life-eating dinner at home and putting our child to sleep in a bed, not a bunk. We had barbecues, saw our family and friends, went to the park-all the things we'd never been able to do before. working in some capacity. This was a wonderful period for our family. We were basically having a "normal" life-eating dinner at home and putting our child to sleep in a bed, not a bunk. We had barbecues, saw our family and friends, went to the park-all the things we'd never been able to do before.

Being home felt so good that it overshadowed the fact that a month earlier I'd been handed my first Grammy loss. "Invincible" had been nominated, but I lost to Tina Turner. It was a disappointing end to a disappointing year, and we were ready to put the whole mess behind us. I remember making a note to myself that it seemed unfair that your professional life had to suffer in order for your personal life to thrive. I'd have to work on that.

That balance was something that I thought a lot about when we started talking about the next alb.u.m. The time off allowed Spyder and Myron to write songs at their own pace, and as that happened we collectively began to figure out where we'd go from there. Long ago, I'd stopped worrying about whether each record outsold the last one; I understood that careers don't work that way. And I wanted my career to work my way. But that didn't mean that I shrugged off my frustration with Seven the Hard Way Seven the Hard Way.

In 1987, we finally took the material we'd been working on into Spyder's Soul Kitchen, setting out to record what would become Wide Awake in Dreamland, Wide Awake in Dreamland, and from the outset, things went incredibly well-the best they'd been since and from the outset, things went incredibly well-the best they'd been since Tropico Tropico. The difference between recording at a huge studio and doing it at home was like night and day. There was a relaxation to everything we did, an ease to our approach that none of us had felt in years. It didn't hurt that Haley was a couple of years older now, and appropriately, she was more independent.

Being in our own studio emphasized that this was our our record we were making. It was more on our terms than anything we'd done in years. With record we were making. It was more on our terms than anything we'd done in years. With Wide Awake, Wide Awake, the music took the listener into our world both sonically and personally. We recorded what would become our first single from the alb.u.m, "All Fired Up," as the last song for the record. Peter Coleman and Spyder produced all of the music took the listener into our world both sonically and personally. We recorded what would become our first single from the alb.u.m, "All Fired Up," as the last song for the record. Peter Coleman and Spyder produced all of Wide Awake Wide Awake except for this song, which Spyder and Keith Forsey produced. We were actually enjoying the process again. We were happily doing what we'd always done: creating, writing, and recording. I had gotten motherhood under control. Our personal lives were in order. I was ready to go back to being a rock star in a big way, but what I didn't fully understand was just how screwed up things had become at Chrysalis. except for this song, which Spyder and Keith Forsey produced. We were actually enjoying the process again. We were happily doing what we'd always done: creating, writing, and recording. I had gotten motherhood under control. Our personal lives were in order. I was ready to go back to being a rock star in a big way, but what I didn't fully understand was just how screwed up things had become at Chrysalis.

Despite the fact that the alb.u.m was progressing nicely, Chrysalis was collapsing around us. Before his departure, Terry had been in charge of the U.S. portion of the company and Chris had run the UK and international divisions. As a result of this hierarchy, we hadn't dealt much with Chris. We had a more casual relationship with him. Chris was more of a businessman, whereas Terry worked a lot on developing talent and promoting records.

All that changed when Terry left and Chris was forced to take a more active role in the U.S. business. Chris didn't seem that interested in the day-to-day running of the American company, so he hired an endless stream of "presidents" to do the hands-on work-some good, some not so good. It was a revolving door, with people only staying a short time, which made doing business with them chaotic and disorganized.

This turmoil at the label ended up having a disastrous impact on the release of Wide Awake in Dreamland Wide Awake in Dreamland and the subsequent tour supporting it. When the record came out, we went out on tour, but for the first time since 1979, we weren't selling out venues. Right away we could see that this tour was a bust. This was partially due to audience fatigue. Our ridiculous schedule of an alb.u.m and tour every nine months had officially come back to bite us in the a.s.s. The audience had seen us a lot. We had saturated the market, and this backlash was a direct result. Tours were supposed to be special, unique experiences, and there were very few audiences that were truly insatiable for them. After a certain point, they've had enough, and it seemed we'd reached that point. Our career was slowing down. and the subsequent tour supporting it. When the record came out, we went out on tour, but for the first time since 1979, we weren't selling out venues. Right away we could see that this tour was a bust. This was partially due to audience fatigue. Our ridiculous schedule of an alb.u.m and tour every nine months had officially come back to bite us in the a.s.s. The audience had seen us a lot. We had saturated the market, and this backlash was a direct result. Tours were supposed to be special, unique experiences, and there were very few audiences that were truly insatiable for them. After a certain point, they've had enough, and it seemed we'd reached that point. Our career was slowing down.