Known for his love of punk rock, heavy metal, horror, and animals, Ace Von Johnson has been a staple of a resurgent hair metal scene since joining Faster Pussycat, before a series of events led to his joining L.A. Guns, where he’s remained as the band’s second guitarist for the last several years. But before his foray into hair metal, Von Johnson was a punk and metal-loving kid born in the ’80s; as such, he ended up in several punk bands, such as Cheap Sex, Madcap, The U.S. Bombs, Unwritten Law, and Murphy’s Law, cementing his status as a dyed-in-the-wool flag waver for all things hard and heavy.
Punk and metal aside, Von John performed on an alternative version of Michael Jackson’s song, “Hollywood Tonight,” which wound up on Jackson’s posthumous record, Michael (2010). And in 2015, he appeared alongside his then bandmates in Faster Pussycat on VH1’s That Metal Show for a segment of Stump the Trunk.
Other credits include performing at Riki Rachtman’s Cathouse Live, a festival that highlights classic Cathouse Nightclub-era groups from the ’80s and serving as the musical director at the Rock & Shock horror and music festival in Worcester, Massachusetts.
Music aside, Von Johnson is heavily involved in animal rescue endeavors and continues to tour with L.A. Guns’ fiercest lineup yet. Indeed, Von Johnson is a busy man, but not too busy that he couldn’t swing by for a chat with ClassicRockHistory.com to dig into the thirteen albums that changed his life. Are any of these albums your favorites, too?
The Black Album – Metallica (1991)
In the early 1990s, this record was seemingly issued to every suburban teenager. It was everywhere, as was “Enter Sandman” and the subsequent singles. So, growing up on the outskirts of Los Angeles, it was no surprise that when a much older kid in my neighborhood tired of it, he decided to pass his cassette copy on to me. I just looked, and I still have it.
This opened my young fifth-grade eyes to the sounds of heavy metal and may quite be my earliest memory of hearing a guitar solo featuring a Wah pedal, an effect I would come to rely on a bit too much for a lot of my early career, which is no doubt an influence that stems from Kirk.
Admittedly, their self-titled release isn’t my favorite Met’ album by any means, but it does hold a special place in my heart for its ability to have shifted the musical landscape at the time, sentimental reasons, and the fact that it managed to draw my attention towards the local radio station who was playing them & similar music; KROQ.
Dead Man’s Party – Oingo Boingo (1985)
Ultimately, when I think of my favorite artists and bands, Danny Elfman is probably much higher on the list than I would normally acknowledge. Mostly for his scoring and soundtrack output. But before the internet and my ability to deduce that the much-beloved soundtracks to my favorite childhood films, such as Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, Beetlejuice, etc., were written by the same man screaming “Weird Science!”
I had picked up a copy of this on tape, probably from the local secondhand record store while in middle school. I’ve always felt that Steve Bartek was criminally underrated as a guitar player, and some of Elfman’s best work is featured on this record, specifically “Stay” and “Just Another Day.”
I remember playing this tape over and over and hearing so many instruments that I could not conceive what they were. I knew I was hearing drums, bass, and guitar, but all the extra brass and layered synthesizers really blew my mind. I loved that it was creepy while also being upbeat. Even as a child, I was a fan of anything that managed to combine rock music with any “Halloween” aesthetic, which is exactly what you have here.
Mana – Unto Others (2019)
This is really the only band that has managed to capture my attention this side of the century; I have probably listened to this record, at a bare minimum, once a week for the past three years now. My good friend and veteran MTV VJ Riki Rachtman called me during the pandemic and ecstatically told me to give them a spin, and I’ve been hooked since.
The songs, the guitar playing, and the introspective yet brooding lyrics hit all the right notes for me. It’s definitely a dark record while maintaining a level of earnestness that I hadn’t seen in a long time. Their lead guitarist, Sebastian Silva, is a phenom on his own and definitely inspired me to think outside the box as far as guitar playing goes.
Gabriel Franco’s ominous, baritone voice, spitting lyrics of self-doubt and rage, with the occasional wolf-howl, are truly one of a kind. A brilliant debut from the PNW. It’s rare to find a record that I can put on during the highest of highs or the lowest of lows and be able to enjoy equally, but this is it. This album definitely reaffirmed that there are still great, new acts out there.
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars – David Bowie (1972)
Do I need to say much? This was the album I picked up as a kid simply for containing “Suffragette City,” which quickly became a lifelong affair for me. I think the concept behind Ziggy was amazing, and I really admire Bowie for his creation, as well as the music within. “Starman” and “Moonage Daydream” are two of my all-time favorite Bowie songs, and his partnership with Mick Ronson was on par, for me, with Mick Taylor/Keith Richards, Slash/Axl Rose, etc.
Becoming a fan of Bowie in the ’90s and beyond led me to explore his diverse catalog, including the work he did with Trent Reznor [NIN], whom I also love. I admired his ability to reinvent himself, even until the bitter end, constantly. Mick’s guitar playing here is top-notch, and he is on a short list of players who made a definitive mark on me early on and for inspiring me to want to get my hands on a Les Paul, specifically. I will always cherish my memory of sneaking in to see him perform several Ziggy songs while in Seattle in the early 2000s. Bowie forever.
Ramones Mania – The Ramones (1988)
Damn. Where would we all be without The Ramones? Quite possibly my first real musical obsession, sitting nicely between my discovery of Metallica and preceding my Misfits phase by age 13. I have a sister who is about 12 years my senior, and I vividly remember telling her I had heard a song about “being sedated” courtesy of Rodney on the ‘ROQ on KROQ in Los Angeles.
She surprised me with a copy of this album, which was my first CD, and I fell in love. I immediately began saving my allowance so that I could buy a leather jacket at the mall to replicate the look. At this age, I hadn’t gotten hip to what genres of music were, but for me, this was the first step down a long, winding road of punk rock, alternative music, and rock ‘n’ roll in general.
Within the next two to three years, their infectious brand of heavy-metal-bubblegum would set the template for my earliest musical repertoire as an adolescent guitarist. In my time with Faster Pussycat, we must’ve covered a handful of their songs on what seemed like a nightly basis. We even backed up Richie Ramone one night at the Viper Room circa 2010.
American Recordings – Johnny Cash (1994)
I had an English teacher in seventh or eighth grade who seemed to love to incorporate music into his lessons. He was a younger guy, so it’s no surprise he would mention bands like Stone Temple Pilots, Gwar, and Concrete Blonde, but he also brought Cash to my attention. Keep in mind I was probably 13 or so, and to me, Johnny Cash was that guy that my grandmother liked.
So, I was aware of him, but hardly a fan yet. However, he knew I was a Misfits fan, and he connected the dots, pointing out that Glenn Danzig had contributed a song to this record as a writer, and that was all I needed. The next thing I knew, I was doing a deep dive into his catalog. When you think about some of the lyrical content he was writing about at the time, like “Cocaine Blues!?”
It’s really quite impressive what he was able to get away with. Fast forward to the ’90s when Johnny linked up with popular producer and musical savant Rick Rubin, and you have this brilliant yet stripped-down album. It set the bar for me for singer-songwriters and his ability to put his own spin on other artists’ music while often improving upon them significantly.
Dookie – Green Day (1994)
When Dookie dropped in ’94, I was 11, and this album was clobbering everyone in my age bracket over the head daily via MTV and radio. From the moment I first heard those power chords produced by Billie Joe Armstrong’s signature overdriven [Fernandes] Strat, the rest was history. I was already deep into my Ramones phase, and this paired nicely for an awkward kid who was about to enter middle school.
I don’t know where the visual came from, but after acquiring this on CD, I immediately shaved my head into a mohawk. My mother was not happy, but I remember thinking I had my leather jacket and my music, so everything was going to be just fine. That was until I showed back up to school. Needless to say, this record reminds me of the first time I got my ass kicked as a kid for looking different, which is fine by me, because I’m still weird and I still love Green Day.
Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables – Dead Kennedy’s (1980)
The gloves come off here. I was going from one class to another in seventh grade, and a friend of mine’s older brother pulled me aside and handed me a cassette tape, in secret, as if he was passing me something illicit. It had the debut Dead Kennedy’s album on one side, and some other equally important SoCal punk rock mix on the back side; I want to say Agent Orange, Social Distortion, and a handful of others. Hearing this entire record Blew. My. Mind. I first heard their “Holiday in Cambodia” single on, you guessed it, KROQ.
They had a flashback show on Sundays, where they would play a lot of post-punk, garage rock, punk, and new wave. I just remember hearing that eerie intro, with the guitar being scraped behind the nut, drenched in delay. In my mind, it sounded like the musical equivalent of sheer insanity, all set to an almost surf-beat. It was also the first time I had heard a lyricist like Jello Biafra, who clearly had a political agenda, figuratively grab me by the collar and say: things are F’ed up, and you need to pay attention, and I was all ears.
Over the years, I have probably purchased this album a good ten times in every format imaginable. And while I may not listen to it on a weekly basis, I will never tire of this record. East Bay Ray’s guitar riffs are incredibly unique for the time and genre. And I must add what a wonderful experience it was getting to tour in support of a reformed version of the band in the mid-2000s, especially our insanely packed show at CBGB’s.
We Sold Our Soul for Rock ‘n Roll – Black Sabbath (1976)
I grabbed this gem on cassette as a kid and was elated that every song I knew from their catalog was all on one album. Of course, I wasn’t wise enough yet to know that it was a best-of, but what difference does that make when you’re 13? I went on to deep dive into their later catalog after this, especially the [Ronnie James] Dio era. But this record always stands out to me, as it cut out the fat and left you with nothing but every classic Sabbath song, riff after riff. Tony Iommi is on my Mount Rushmore of rock guitarists, and my appreciation for him started right here.
Collection II – The Misfits (1995)
Anyone who knows me knows that no list would be complete for me without mentioning The Misfits. These guys were/are the Kiss of punk rock. And as a certified weirdo, loner kid who loved punk rock, comic books, horror movies and loud/brash guitars; this was the culmination of all those things. I acquired this album and their debut LP, Walk Among Us, all within the same time frame in middle school, but this record stands out of the two, mostly for its superior production/re-recording, whatever, and for being nearly double in length.
I have to assume it was by way of Metallica, but the moment I heard this band, I was hooked. Actually, no—I was obsessed. The Misfits had songs about skulls, death, sex, ghouls, Vampira, and werewolves; what else could I ask for? Buzzsaw guitars from Doyle, Bobby Steele, and Franché Coma, depending on which session it was culled from. Those three guys were absolute guitar heroes for me as a snot-nosed punk kid who I now consider my friends. But in addition to Glenn Danzig’s devilocked lyrics, they painted this macabre image replete with “you wouldn’t understand because you weren’t there” level of lore.
I grew out their signature hairstyle in eighth grade and was harassed by school kids mercilessly, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass because I was hell-bent on being a horror kid. I’m sure, at one point or another, I have learned every song on this album. One of my career highlights was organizing an all-star jam for the Massachusetts horror convention, Rock & Shock, where I performed a set of Misfits songs alongside guitarist Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein and a bevy of guest singers. I will be a card-carrying member of The Fiend Club until I die.
Welcome to My Nightmare – Alice Cooper (1975)
In my early 20s, I had made a notable shift from wanting to play in punk rock bands towards more rock music in general. I’m sure my mentor at the time, Todd Youth (rest in peace), was partly responsible for that, along with the music choices I was listening to as well. And somewhere along the way, I went from a casual Alice fan to an absolute loyalist and this album was the record I set as the centerpiece.
This was probably due to my life-long admiration of Vincent Price and the blatant horror aesthetics here. But what really stands out for me to this day is the brilliant guitar interplay between Steve Hunter and Dick Wagner. The original Alice Cooper band had it all, but these two turned it up to eleven. There was a point where I was living in either my car or a shared rehearsal room, and this record was one of several that I made it a point to learn every lick from in between tours.
I remember panning it left and then right to hear the individual contribution from each guitarist, along with all the fabulous Cooper-isms layered on top. Any rocker worth their salt should know this LP, so I don’t feel the need to wax poetic any further, but Bob Ezrin + Alice Cooper = are magic. I even have the back cover black widow tattooed on me, somewhere.
Danzig – Danzig (1988)
This may be, as a guitar player, the most important album for me—especially as a teenager. Over the last 30 years, I have fastidiously absorbed every single note of this record, from Chuck Biscuit’s high-hat count-ins to John Christ’s signature pinch harmonics to Glenn Danzig’s Orbison-esque crooning and beyond. Every riff, every note, even the low volume fade-out “Wooo!” at the end of “Twist of Cain.” I can hear it in my head.
What always fascinated me was the fact that Rick Rubin was able to pull Glenn from the depths of his iconic post-Misfits death rock ensemble Samhain—who only didn’t make this list as I thought having a third LP from his catalog may be overkill—and clean him up somewhat and repackage him entirely.
In the span of less than five years, he went from the punch-you-in-the-face grit of late-era Misfits singing about needing your skull through the brief yet equally as powerful, morbid tones of Samhain to end up with what was basically a combination of equal parts The Cult, AC/DC and Glenn’s own “Jim Morison, but make it evil” and churn out this stellar album.
While “Mother” may be the band’s “Enter Sandman,” that we never need to hear again, there are some brilliant and often overlooked deep cuts, like “End of Time,” “Soul on Fire,” and “Possession,” keep your ears peeled for an uncredited vocal cameo from James Hetfield on that last one.
Ultimately, in ’88, there was nothing like it. I truly love the use of space in some of these songs, maximizing the dramatic punch in the face when the guitar kicks in. I must have learned this album cover to cover a handful of times as a youth. John Christ’s guitar playing is top-notch, and he wasn’t doing a lick of what his contemporaries were at that time, which makes it all the better. It’s all blues and all evil. And I’m here for it.
Hotel California – The Eagles (1976)
My first musical memory as a child, I’m talking about maybe four or five years old, was hearing my mother sing along to “Hotel California” in the car. I remember thinking it had this ominous feeling to it, which was, of course, what I loved, along with the picture Don Henley paints about what I imagine was a roadside brothel with a gate to hell, which just made it that much more appealing. But truly, the piece de resistance of this track was the dual solos from Don Felder and Joe Walsh.
I would go on to steal my mother’s cassette copy of Hotel California, which I’m grateful she never asked me to return. It was a staple of my early drives in my first car, a broken down early ’80s Honda with only a tape deck that would frequently refuse to eject a cassette, so I was forced to listen to the same album repeatedly. This was before Spotify, kids. And this album was one that received that treatment.
So, by the time I was in my mid-teens, I knew every word, forward and back. Truly a powerhouse of songwriters, The Eagles were at their absolute peak here. The riff on “Life in The Fast Lane” could be my next favorite track, but I can’t truly say, as I love them all. A great record, and by far the first time I can recall hearing guitar at the tender age of single digits and thinking, “I want to do that!” Joe Walsh is still in my top-five guitarists of all time, and that discipleship started right here.
Ace Von Johnson of L.A. Guns: 13 Albums That Changed My Life article published on Classic RockHistory.com© 2024
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Great work