SLASH: PRESS N' THE FLESH

As Slash prepares to promote It's Five O'Clock Somewhere, by his offshoot band, Snakepit, the game plan is simple, if grueling: Fly into a city, visit a few rock radio stations, then hightail it to the next transmitter, for a total of 36 stations in 22 U.S. cities. We caught up with him three weeks into the whirlwind. Thursday, Jan. 26, 11:50 a.m. It's easy to spot Guns N' Roses' hirsute guitarist at Newark International Airport: He's the only passenger getting off the Boston-to-New York shuttle in head-to-toe black leather. He and his posse- manager, bodyguard, three execs from his label, Geffen Records, and Snakepit's singer, Eric Dover-pile into a waiting van. Looking smaller and more wiry than his image suggests, Slash, 29, settles in. ''It's unprecedented for me to get up at 9:30 in the morning,'' he says, lighting up the first of many Marlboros. ''I haven't had sex in three weeks,'' he adds with a groan. 12:30 p.m. ''Where the f -- - are we?'' murmurs Slash in his muted, nasal voice. The answer is the barren backwoods of northern New Jersey, where the area's rock station, WDHA, is located. Bagels and orange juice are passed around the van; Slash opts for vodka in a paper cup. At the station, Slash and Dover, formerly of the faux-psychedelic band Jellyfish, adjourn to tune up their guitars. Ironically, WDHA doesn't play much GN'R anymore. ''They're not the force they were six years ago,'' notes program director Lenny Bloch. ''The next generation of fans are into the late '70s-early '80s punk-rock sound.'' Hence Slash's informal radio tour: ''There are so many misconceptions about Guns N' Roses that it's good for people to see Slash in person,'' says his manager, Tom Maher. ! Slash and Dover plop down on stools in the studio, and the on-air interview begins. ''It's not a solo project-it's a side project from the band,'' Slash says. He has been asked these questions dozens of times, yet he patiently explains the origins of the album title (something a bartender once said) and the band name (after his home studio). Then he and Dover play a Snakepit song. ''I'm psyched,'' says the DJ during a break. ''You only used one f -- -. I thought I'd get a lot more.'' 1:50 p.m. Back in the van, the radio is cranked, and on comes a familiar Australian hard-rock band. ''How do AC/DC get away with all these songs about their d -- -s,'' asks Slash, ''and if we do something like that, people call us sexist?'' The cellular phone of Geffen radio-promo man Ross Zapin rings. The New York office has been searching for a new top hat for Slash (his trademark), and one has been found; his bodyguard is dispatched to buy it. Given that Geffen will fork over about $20,000 for this promotional jaunt, what's another $60? 2:40 p.m. At the offices of Q104 in Manhattan, Slash and his crew meet and greet the staff. Slash requests a Nine Inch Nails song to help him unwind, while the Geffen reps and a DJ compare notes on the chest size of a local female jock. Forty-five minutes later, Slash and Dover dutifully head into the DJ booth, where they are asked the standard questions. Slash deflects questions about GN'R, currently in a state of disarray. In the van, it's sandwiches and Snapples for everyone-except Slash, who opts again for vodka. 4:55 p.m. In the elevator on the way to WNEW-FM, Zapin recites the list of the station's honchos. Slash begs off: ''I'm really bad at remembering names.'' ''Hey, I gotta try,'' Zapin says with an amiable shrug. In the DJ booth, Slash and Dover play one of their songs, after which the jock burbles, ''I got chills!'' The interview will air later. ''I just have to edit out a few f -- -s, '' says an employee. 7:50 p.m. Slash finally needs to eat. In the restaurant of New York City's Paramount hotel, he orders chicken soup and chicken wings. ''The way I see it is we're out there going 'Well, here's the record, blah, blah, blah' and kissing some ass,'' he says with a mellow smile. ''I haven't kissed anybody's ass since I can remember, ya know.'' 8:45 p.m. We head to a downtown bar for a schmoozefest with record-store distributors, but Slash spends most of his time in a booth with some friends. A Geffen promo exec is not thrilled. ''He's not really working the room too well,'' he whispers to a coworker. Friday, Jan. 27, 10:45a.m. Slash has been up for three hours, having stopped by the Howard Stern show. We board an Amtrak to Philadelphia. Slash, wearing yesterday's outfit, flips through Food & Wine. Two seats ahead, Wendy Zizmor, 44, and her 17-year-old son, Adam, can barely contain themselves. ''My son is so excited,'' says Mrs. Zizmor. ''He told me (Slash) is like the Frank Sinatra of his generation.'' 12:10 p.m. We're met in Philly by Geffen exec Bobbi Silver, who will take us to the radio tip sheet FMQB: ''Radio is so hard to convince. If radio liked a song 25 years ago, it went on. Now, they may add two a week.'' In the van, Slash stares out the window. ''Philly's not known for its strip joints, is it?'' he asks. 2:20 p.m. At the FMQB offices in nearby Cherry Hill, N.J., everyone greets the staff. Slash is still confused as to what FMQB is. ''This is for radio programmers,'' Silver tells him, opening a copy of the latest issue and pointing to a write-up of Snakepit's first single, ''Beggars & Hangers-On.'' He reads it. ''What's 'a no-brainer' mean?'' Slash asks. A moment of awkwardness ensues. ''It means it's a great rock & roll party record,'' says Silver quickly. 3:05 p.m. The magazine's staff gathers at Slash and Dover's feet to hear them play. ''This is like being in school,'' Slash says bashfully. More songs, more photos with the employees. 3:55 p.m. On the highway back to Philly, Slash says, ''That was cool.'' ''Yeah, and it's worth it,'' adds Silver. An Arby's is spotted in the distance. It being Slash's road fast food of choice, excitement momentarily reigns, followed by loud moans all around when we discover it's closed. ''That's so disappointing,'' sighs Slash. ''It's like being with a woman who can't come.'' 4:30 p.m. At today's last stop, WMMR, Slash and Dover reel off answers to the usual questions and play the two songs they have been serenading radio folk with for the last two days, and will continue to do so for three more weeks. Was it worth it? Two weeks later, 123 rock stations are playing ''Beggars & Hangers-On,'' up from 62 the week before. ''The idea behind these tours is to get programmers excited,'' says FMQB managing director Mike Boyle. ''And 9 times out of 10, it works.'' Adds WDHA's Bloch: ''He was polite and respectful-except for the smoking in the studio.'' Note to other stations: Slash kisses no federal-law ass, okay?