Upon meeting Sebastian Bach, I thanked him for all the happiness his music has brought my life. He replied, “What a fucking lovely thing to say!” “You know, I make these albums and then… they’re gone. Does anybody even listen to albums anymore? I do! I strap on my headphones and go running; I mean FUCK running, am I right?! … But the music, it gets me through, Man.” Then, he enfolded me in a warm, manly embrace.
And that, Dear Reader, it what is was like meeting Sebastian Bach. Although he was three hours late to the meet-and-greet my wife surprised me with, he made it worth my wearied while. He bounded into the room like a St. Bernard off his leash. He has the quality of being “On” even when no one else is watching. It’s odd, but endearing. At any rate, the man was very accommodating, if not apologetic. He took the piss out of the whole VIP thing, by asking his tour manager to whom he was allowed to speak and whom not. It was a wry social commentary to be sure, even if Mr. Bach himself didn’t realize it.
The man is large, loud and boisterous. He autographed everything in sight, even if he wasn’t asked. He mugged for photos, even inviting me onto the stage to pose with him! He presented just as he does in every interview I’ve ever seen or read, which makes me think there is little differentiation between his persona and his personality. One thing I’ve always admired about Mr. Bach is the guy seems to understand and remember what it’s like to be a fan.