"Out of the cellar"

BY: Rikki RIkk - MSMM Staff Member

In 1983, Los Angeles was electric, and the Sunset Strip pulsed with neon lights and the wild energy of a rock revolution. Amid the glitz and excess, one band clawed their way out of obscurity and into the spotlight—Ratt. With hair teased high and guitars cranked louder, they embodied the raw, unapologetic spirit of the era.

At the heart of Ratt was Stephen Pearcy, their magnetic frontman with a voice that was equal parts snarl and seduction. Pearcy had always been a hustler. Before Ratt, he’d spent years bouncing from one failed band to another, scraping by in a city full of wannabe rock stars. But there was something different about this new project. He could feel it in his bones. Ratt had an edge, a grit that set them apart from the glossy acts clogging the airwaves.

With Warren DeMartini shredding the guitar, Robbin Crosby adding thunderous rhythm, and the rock-solid rhythm section of Juan Croucier on bass and Bobby Blotzer on drums, Ratt was a force of nature. Together, they crafted a sound that mixed heavy riffs with infectious melodies. It was dangerous and catchy, like a snake coiled and ready to strike.

Their debut album, Out of the Cellar, released in 1984, was an instant hit. Fueled by the massive success of the single "Round and Round," Ratt went from playing tiny clubs to selling out arenas seemingly overnight. The song’s video, featuring an oddball dinner party interrupted by the band tearing through the walls, was on heavy rotation on MTV. Suddenly, everyone knew who Ratt was.

The success came fast and hard. Out of the Cellar went multi-platinum, and Ratt was thrust into the upper echelon of rock stardom. They toured with giants like Mötley Crüe and Ozzy Osbourne, blowing audiences away with their blistering live shows. Pearcy stalked the stage like a panther, his long hair whipping around as he belted out songs about lust, danger, and living on the edge. DeMartini and Crosby would trade ferocious guitar solos, their dueling axes setting crowds on fire. There was something raw, dangerous, and yet polished about their performances—like a band that thrived on chaos but could still deliver a perfect hit.

But the lifestyle that came with the fame was relentless. Every night was a party, every city a blur of sold-out shows, booze, and backstage excess. The Sunset Strip became their playground, and they reveled in it. The women, the drugs, the after-parties—it was all part of the fantasy they’d built. But underneath the glamor, cracks were starting to form.

Robbin Crosby, the towering guitarist with a larger-than-life presence, was spiraling. The pressures of fame, combined with personal demons, drove him deeper into drug addiction. The band could see the toll it was taking on him, but the machine of fame was unforgiving, and there was no time to slow down. They had to keep going, keep touring, keep selling records. Ratt was riding high, but the ride was starting to get out of control.

By the time they released their second album, Invasion of Your Privacy, in 1985, the band was on top of the world, but the tension within was palpable. Crosby’s struggles became harder to ignore, and the constant grind of the road was wearing them down. Still, they kept pushing forward, delivering hit after hit, with songs like "Lay It Down" and "You're in Love" cementing their place as one of the biggest bands of the decade.

The late '80s brought more success, but also more turmoil. The music scene was shifting, and the excesses that had once fueled Ratt were now dragging them down. As the band’s popularity began to wane, internal conflicts reached a breaking point. Crosby’s addiction worsened, and the other members found themselves at odds over the band’s direction.

By the early '90s, grunge had swept through, and bands like Ratt found themselves sidelined by the darker, more introspective sounds of the new decade. Their moment in the sun had faded, and soon enough, the band splintered. Crosby’s addiction took a tragic toll, and in 2002, he passed away, a heartbreaking reminder of the darker side of rock stardom.

But Ratt’s legacy would endure. The songs they left behind—raucous, rebellious, and undeniably fun—remained anthems for those who lived through the 80s, a time when rock was loud, wild, and untamed. “Round and Round” and the rest of their catalog would continue to echo through the years, reminders of a time when five guys from Los Angeles took on the world and, for a brief, shining moment, owned it.

Even as they aged, Ratt's influence could still be felt in the countless bands that followed in their footsteps, inspired by their swagger, their sound, and their refusal to conform. And in the end, despite the chaos, the excess, and the heartbreak, that was what Ratt had always been about: living loud, living fast, and leaving behind one hell of a story.

(Credit:Rikki Rikk, mid-south music mag)