The Long Story. Heading into the ‘90s, the buzz in Los Angeles centered around two guitarists. One was Tom Morello, who would later form Rage Against the Machine. The other was George Clinton’s right-hand man -- Stevie Salas, a transplant from San Diego whose funk-inspired rock guitar was drastically opposed to the LA hair-metal scene of the time.       
"Me and Tom were doing all this weird stuff that wasn’t really in that ‘80s metal scene," Salas explains. "That was all underground shit at that time. You’d walk into the Roxy and see the Chili Peppers playing "Back to Black” at 180 bpm. You were either in the scene with Flea, Anthony, and Fishbone, or you were in the heavy metal scene with Poison." In the beginning, Salas roved between couches, closets and guest houses as guitarist trying to break into L.A.’s scene (one of the guest houses belonged to the Costas, whose daughter, Nikka, was like a little sister to him). Finally, his friend David O. (of the Plimsouls) got him a job at the Baby O recording studios, “answering phones in the rehearsal room and sweeping it out and cleaning it. It was the most horrible summer of my life. I was used to San Diego summers surfin’, and here I was starving to death in this hell hole in Hollywood.”But it was there that, one night asleep on the couch, George Clinton woke his ass up. "George woke me up at three in the morning and asked if I could come in and play a couple power chords for him," he remembers. "I went in there and just went ballistic. George came running into the studio like, ‘what’s goin’ on in here?!" and all of a sudden I was on a George Clinton album.” Through Clinton, Salas met Bootsy Collins and Don Was (Salas was part of Was Not Was’ second album What Up Dog, which Rolling Stone voted in the Top 100 Albums of the Decade). Hilariously, he also took a job in the house band for the TV show, Fame. ("I thought the show was about the lamest thing I had ever seen in my life. But you know, they were going to pay me like $300, and at that time $300 was like, ‘oh my god!’") He also began producing rap metal albums, and formed a loose group of musicians called Stevie Salas’ Colorcode, which mixed funk, rock, and “a bit of the hard stuff." It was difficult to fully concentrate on his own stuff, though, since the whole scene was hot to get Salas for their own records. In 1987, he had to choose between offers from Duran Duran’s Andy Taylor and Thomas Dolby. He chose Taylor because his tour was with the Psychedelic Furs and would take Salas back home to San Diego. But a week before the San Diego gig, Taylor fired Salas. "It was heartbreaking," Salas recalls. "I don’t know what I did -- I was just kicking his ass on stage or something. But it turned out the best thing that ever happened to me." Salas then got another offer to go to London and work on a record, "and I said, ‘no, I’m not playing on anybody else’s stuff anymore; I’m only going to work on my own career so this will never happen to me again.’" But the friend who had made the offer was also the son of Elektra Records’ chairman, and told Salas that if he came, he’d get a "development deal" from the label. So Salas took the deal, flew to London to lend his guitar, and worked on his own material. When he returned, Rod Stewart’s manager (who, ironically, also managed Andy Taylor) called to ask Salas if he would join Rod Stewart for a world tour. Too big an offer to turn down, Salas became Rod Stewart’s guitarist - "Private jet, football stadiums, three nights at the Forum, five nights at Madison Square Garden, that kind of stuff," he recalls, laughing in disbelief at the opulence of it all. And really, Salas was the worst sideman in the history of rock. "I didn’t know the code of ‘sideman.’ I didn’t know to stand in the back and be heard, not seen. I was up there in the front rockin’. And Rod loved it. We’d sing in the mic together and people would be like, ‘my god, what’re you doing?! You’re gonna get fired.’" It was the best gig of his life up until then -- so good, that Salas chose not to tell Stewart Island Records had just signed him to the biggest amount a new artist had ever received. But after the world tour, Salas left the band and recorded his critically acclaimed debut, Stevie Salas Colorcode, released in 1990.The album was hugely received - especially in the UK and Japan. Salas couldn’t walk down the streets of Tokyo without getting his hair torn out by fans. His second album, 1995’s Back from the Living, was named "Album of the Year" in Japan over the Rolling Stones’ Voodoo Lounge and Aerosmith’s Big Ones. In America as well, he found nothing but critical success, "but I certainly didn’t fit in the radio format between Bon Jovi and Motley Crue." The problem was that Salas’ American distribution deal was horrendous (you could find a story about Salas in every American magazine, but couldn’t find his album on the shelves). "I was pretty upset. At that point I was not myself anymore -- I was consumed by success," he recalls. "I was consumed with my friends being proud of me because they’d see me on the TV awards shows with Rod.I was consumed with making sure that all those people thought I was cool. “I got over that. By not being successful in America, I was forced to be humble. It was probably one of the best things that ever happened to me because I think I would’ve been dead by now or done something musically that I really regret."        He found a new and improved personal vision through his Mescalero Apache heritage. Salas was asked to join a group of Native American musicians for a world peace project (documented by filmmaker Julian Temple). For two years Salas traveled the world with an acoustic guitar, advocating Native American rights through music. "That’s sort of what helped me relax and find what success really was," he explains, relaying a conversation he had with British singer, Seal. "He told me, ‘you know, I spent my whole younger years pissed off trying to make it, telling everybody how great I was. And nobody cared. I finally gave up, went away to Thailand for a year, came back, and these guys asked me to sing on the song "Killer". And all of a sudden I was #1 on the British charts. When I didn’t want it, I didn’t care, everything I ever wanted came to me. When I wanted it so bad that I tried to force it, it wouldn’t happen.’ "That made a lot of sense to me. I sort of developed the same thing -- I’m just going to try to do good work and try to enjoy myself and let it happen.’" Of course, during his time with the Native American world peace project, Salas didn’t exactly lay low. He served as music director for Terence Trent D'Arby; toured with Duran Duran; wrote/produced hits with vocalist Sass Jordan; and formed a one off power trio with Bootsy Collins and Buddy Miles called Hardware. Salas wrote a majority of Hardware’s album, Third Eye Open, which was produced by Bill Laswell and issued on Rykodisc. Rediscovering his Native American roots had, however, taught Salas to accept his non-fame in the U.S., though he continued to enjoy a large following elsewhere. The U.S. version of the MTV Awards may not pay him to be there, but the MTV Awards in Dheli, India would beg that he come. Though still young, after headlining the Fuji Rock Fest in 1999 alongside Rage Against the Machine, he went into semi-retirement, travelling the world and surfing. Shortly after, his life took a disastrous turn. In May of 2000, his girlfriend, famed fashion stylist Tonjua Twist, committed suicide in his beach house. To compound the tragedy, the tabloids placed the blame on Salas. "She was my best friend. I spent a year just being torn apart in the press. I was on Hard Copy and Extra -- all of a sudden I was a rock ‘n roll bad boy. It was the lowest, lowest point of my life." The only solace he found was in writing new songs, which would form the basis for his new album, Shapeshifter. One of the album's songs, "Punkassbitch" was written the minute after he had read yet another story blaming him for Twist's death.  "It was very, very hard. The people who were talking about me in these magazines were people I had known for years. I had a rage in me; I wanted to hurt people. "But I realized that there’s nothing that irritates these people more than having to see my face all the time and know that I’m doing well. And that’s what caused me to get up, face this record, and really do it. "The project itself -- starting it and finishing it -- was a huge, important step for me. And as soon as I was done with it, Mick Jagger called me. Everything in my life changed."   
So here he stands: playing Saturday Night Live with Mick Jagger as the gossip columnists burn with envy, and ready to release his most important record to date. And Shapeshifter doesn’t disappoint -- it’s the nitro-fueled, emotional album from one of the most talented guitarists of our age. It was created at the lowest point in his life -- and that’s the desperate environment that the best art is always created. "Kickback" opens with a cheeky DJ cooing, "sit back, grab a brownie, and check out... the rise and fall of Stevie No Wonder", and then Salas’ scratchy bursts of guitar penetrate the silence. As usual, Salas' nicotine-stained vocals are full of attitude and the music is a melange of hard rock, electro invention, classic rock and funk. A little Bootsy Collins, a little Van Halen, a little Aphex Twin. A full sonic buffet. "Punkass Bitch" even uses some hip hop beats to give bounce to the aggressive, dark punkfunk. He alternates between bizarro, deep-throated vocals in the verse, and then delivers a Beastie Boy-like high pitched chorus. Then Salas’ other side shows, as on the '70s pimp-ready soul on "Body Slamm 2001" (which was co-written by Bootsie Collins -- the intro features a call Bootsy made to Salas) or the quickstep funk pop on "Dogboy Blues". "You and I" shows Salas' penchant for cheeky lyrics with the line, "you sneak up silent like the ghost of Bruce Lee", and he drapes the whole song in a whispery ambiance. The whole album is a wobbly, inventive ride through funk, punk, metal, rock, and touches of soul. That's what you get from a Native American who grew up on Bootsy Collins and Van Halen, played with everyone from Mick Jagger to George Clinton, and helped explore the unknown with leftfield weirdos like Bill Laswell and Don Was. Or, as Stevie himself says, "I grew up with black kids, white kids, and Asian kids. It was very common to sit around an listen to Earth, Wind and Fire and also listen to Van Halen and Led Zeppelin. And I think that’s why I can play with Mick Jagger and then George Clinton.”