With his clarion voice, a crystal-shattering screech and one of metal's most raucously hedonistic demeanors, it may be hard to imagine Sebastian Bach playing Christ. But the former leader of Skid Row has not only remade himself into Broadway's hardest working leading man (with stints as the lead in Jekyll & Hyde and Rocky Horror Picture Show), he's successfully balanced a solo career with his Broadway work. Now, he's taken the lead in the new touring company of Jesus Christ Superstar (with Carl Anderson as Judas), a logical choice given the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical was the first of rock's forays onto the Great White Way. City Paper reached Bach by phone a week before the show's Philadelphia run.

City Paper: Since I had to ring you under an assumed name, "Bruce Banner," I'm guessing you're hiding from groupies. How do the Broadway groupies differ from the metal ones? Are the backstage screams more Liza-like?

Sebastian Bach: Now that I've done three different shows and made a name for myself, I find that not only do I get chicks who dye their hair blue, I get the chicks with actual blue hair. I get 'em from 8 to 80, the grannies who pinch my cheek, tell me I'm cute and want their picture taken with me. It rocks.

SB: The guy who signed Skid Row when I was 18 is now head of Lava/Atlantic, the same label who puts out Frank Wildhorn CDs -- the guy who wrote Jekyll. Frank came looking for a rock 'n' roller who'd show up on time, eight times a week. There's none. But he wanted someone with a clean voice and a dirty scream. I was his first call. I saw the show and was amazed by how propulsive the staging and technical aspects were. So I did that. We sold a shitload of tickets. Fast forward to 9/11. Broadway's in the dumps. I'm doing my second solo thing. But Equity calls and asks if I'd do Rocky Horror. They explained how it was a good time to help New York City. So that was a hit. We topped nearly all other sales, Mamma Mia! included. It felt good to kick ABBA's ass.

SB: To me, showtunes is Annie Get Your Gun and Flower Drum Song. I don't think Superstar fits that bill. Besides, Charles Mingus said it best, "There's two kinds of music -- good and bad." I was the lead soprano in my church choir when I was a kid, long before I got into Judas Priest. My only criteria is finding music that I can emotionally connect to 100 percent. That goes from "I Remember You" to God's power ballad, "Gethsemane."

SB: Right now, in limbo. But I can always go back. It's not often you get asked to play the Son of God. And you know what else? This is the biggest tour I've ever headlined in my life. No one ever paid $70 to see Skid Row. And we sold over 20 million albums. Look, the music business no longer allows artists to develop like they did in the '70s. The Ramones made their best records at the end of their career. No one knew. The last Skid Row record sold two million copies and was considered a failure because our first sold 10 million.

SB: It is. You can't bump it into your mp3. You have to pay and see and listen in the moment. And when it's over, it's over. All you have is the experience, hopefully powerful. It's real, not virtual. Made by human beings. I love guys like Jeff Buckley. There's not enough of them. I no longer want to rely on a biz that thinks Madonna's a great singer. I'm outta here.

CP: You mentioned this being the biggest tour you've done. Do you find rocker brethren are jealous of the fact that you can rock out and sell tickets? That you don't need rock 'n' roll?

SB: That's exactly it. Slash and Duff from Guns N' Roses, the dudes in Korn, Peter Frampton, Weezer, they're fascinated by the fact that I've got a gig where I have five tractor trailers, doing eight shows a week and I don't need the rock industry. Jeff Tate, Tommy Lee and Vince Neil -- they're all asking how do they get a gig like this.

SB: Guess what? [Tate] can wail. He could do Phantom. Have a few drinks, listen to him scream.

SB: The staging is crazy and cool. The costuming is wild. And, at least in the second act, I'm pretty much nude. So I had to cut back on the beer for those loincloth scenes. For real, I had to get myself together. Now I can rock the loincloth. I'm 35, not 19, snorting speed all day.

CP: How was working with acting coach Robin Phillips, being he's trained Olivier and Peter Ustinov?

SB: They knew I could scream. But could I act? Robin made sure of it through sheer old-school intense intimidation. He'd yell "amateur," [and] "unacceptable" at me in front of a whole cast, which knocked my big rock ego down to a puddle each and every time. I was too adrenalized all the time, too fidgety, too "let's kick this city's ass." Henry Jekyll isn't Iggy Pop. I had to be calmed. [When I was standing], my hands would jitter too much. Robin would run toward me and put my hands on his crotch -- spitting and screaming, eyes bulging -- telling me to imagine that very sensation. To think of his balls anytime I wanted to fidget. Holy fuck. Subsequently, I don't play with my hands anymore.

CP: Now that you've played Christ, any other role's gotta seem manageable. Anything else you're eyeballing?

SB: Yeah. Actually Frank Wildhorn's casting Dracula: The Musical as we speak. But he doesn't want a rock guy to be the first Dracula. So I'll get the shot as soon as the first guy runs out of steam. That's my forte -- being the pinch hitter of Broadway. Someone runs out of gas, I come in and pick the shit right up.

Jesus Christ Superstar, March 18-23, Merriam Theater, 250 S. Broad St., 215-336-1234.