Honestly: My Life and Stryper Revealed Read Online Free Page B

southern accent “ Okay, 50 cents? Sing for us, Michael. Come on now!” Sometimes if the money wouldn’t work, she’d bribe me with food by telling me she’d make a cake or Popo would make some ice cream. Nana was a great cook and Popo made the absolute best homemade banana ice cream. That always worked, even if the pay didn’t.
    I was, and still am, a very shy person. Singing in public, or doing anything in public, never came naturally for me. It was something I learned, largely from my Nana. When I would begrudgingly join in singing, she would go on and on about it. “ Oh Michael. My God, You’re so good.” Even at a young age I knew that was something grandmothers were just supposed to say to their grandkids, whether they were actually good or not. But as other people would hear me sing around the house, I would receive similar comments and compliments and as a result I began to gain a little more confidence.
    I wouldn’t say that I ever overcame being shy, but I did start to become more comfortable singing to an audience. So eventually, over time, I’d join in with no coaxing at all.
    Nana gave me my first electric guitar and gave Rob his first drum kit. She and Popo took Robert down to the local K-Mart and bought him a set. I remember seeing it for the first time and watching him pound away on that kit and I thought to myself, now this is cool.
    Nana really helped to bring me out of my shell and always went the distance to encourage Rob and me in our love of music.
    Later in life, as Rob was going through different singers for his band, my dad would always say to him “You should audition Mike. He’s a good singer.” Rob would brush it off and proceed to audition another round of local guys for whatever band he had going at the time. This was fine by me. I was 12 and really had no interest in being in a band. There was trouble to be made and gotten into, and I had mischief to find with neighborhood friends. A band felt like work to me and I wasn’t ready for that.
    After going through several singers that didn’t work out, Rob finally caved and agreed to give me an audition. It was not a big deal to me. After all, it was my brother’s band, and I had heard them practicing and rehearsing dozens and dozens of times. My neighborhood friends were likely unavailable on the day I auditioned, so I was probably just thinking “ What the heck. There’s nothing else to do today. I guess I could give this band thing a try.”
    But to my Dad, it was a much bigger deal. He had been suggesting to Robert for months, if not years, that he give me a try as the singer. So when Rob finally did agree to give me a shot, my Dad was obviously happy about it. He must have known something good would come out of this. To celebrate the occasion, Dad bought a Shure Vocal Master PA System, one of the most iconic PA systems in music history. It was one of the first portable sound systems, complete with a half-ton mixer/power amp and two speaker columns that were six feet tall. As long as I had a roadie, this hundred pound stick kid was set. Although I couldn’t even lift the thing, it was the coolest system I could have at that time.
    The audition took place in the garage of our house in Whittier, on Chatfield Street. We set up the PA and were just as excited about hearing it as we were about playing. Larry Richardson was the guitarist, Rob was the drummer, Dean Cerny was the bassist, and I played guitar and sang. We played mostly cover tunes by Hendrix, Bowie, Aerosmith and whatever else we knew. Occasionally we would break into a free-for-all jam—a slightly awkward attempt at creating our own music, I suppose. But mostly we covered rock classics that day. We played for about an hour or so.
    When it was over there was no ceremonious joining of the band. There were no papers to be signed stating my new title as lead singer. Basically Rob looked at me when it was over and said, “Well, that sounded pretty good, I guess.”
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