Rock Groupies (October 2006 - November 2010)

[DernierCri]

Pattie is by far my favourite! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her on 20/20 a little while ago, I'm actually just finishing up "Wonderful Tonight" and it's been a very interesting read.

I love George Harrison and Eric Clapton as well - so it's perfect!

 

[dinahgrace]

60 SECONDS: Pamela Des Barres

by ANDREW WILLIAMS - Thursday, October 4, 2007

Pamela Des Barres counts musical legends Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page and Keith Moon as conquests, thanks to her reign as queen of the groupies in Los Angeles in the 1960s and 1970s. She's since become an author. Her latest tome, Let's Spend The Night Together: Backstage Secrets Of Rock Muses And Supergroupies, is out now, published by Helter Skelter.

What are your tips for starting in the groupie business?
It’s not a business, it’s a lifestyle. It’s wanting to be where the action is. It’s harder to meet the really big bands these days because of the increased security. I’d advise the girls to get into a sideline. Try becoming a journalist, photographer or DJ, so you get to be around the bands. In my heyday, I met the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin just by hanging out in clubs in LA.

Was it more respectable to be a groupie in the 1960s?
Yes, it just meant ‘she’s with the group’. Then it became negative. The girls started performing favours for roadies and people passed judgment on groupies because of that. Groupies were feminists because they were doing what they wanted to do. We didn’t have to contend with models and actresses dating musicians like they do today.

Are these models and actresses just more financially successful groupies?
They’re total groupies. I mean, just look at Winona Ryder – she was with one musician after the next. She’s in a position to meet them more easily. They have their publicist call the guy’s publicist and they get backstage. It’s not as easy for a regular girl.

What was the highlight of your groupie days?
Being on stage with the band, right in the heart of the music. When I was dating Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page or Keith Moon, I’d be onstage with the Stones, Zeppelin and The Who. That was the main perk for me, sitting on that amplifier and feeling that music.

Didn’t that lead to jealousy from other girls?
Probably. In those days though, you got respect from other women. I respected girls who went before me, such as Gail Zappa, Marianne Faithfull and Jane Asher. When the younger girls, such as Lori Lightning and Sable Starr, came along, they didn’t know they were supposed to have respect for me, ha ha.
I’d be onstage with the Stones, Zeppelin and The Who. That was the main perk for me

Jimmy Page had sex with Lori Lightning when she was 14. That would cause a scandal today.
Oh sure, but back then it was just what was being done. Lori was with Zeppelin when their money got stolen and they got her out of the way before the FBI showed up, so they knew that it wasn’t appropriate. It was just what was going on. Those girls offered themselves up on a platter to these guys.

Did that cause feuding in the groupie world?
It made me want to leave the scene and settle down. There were incidents some girls wished they hadn’t experienced but that happens everywhere in life. I was 23, they were 14, I couldn’t compete with their incredible youth.

Who did you put the most work into pursuing?
I was very young when the Stones came along and just the right age to be sexually fascinated by them. I went to their hotel, knocked on Mick Jagger’s door and he opened it naked. I ran into the night. I wasn’t ready for it. Later on, I had my own girl group, the GTOs. I was a crazy teenage blonde and all the guys, including Mick and Jimmy, wanted to meet me. Mick was on the list of people I wanted to be with. Paul McCartney was at number one. I wish I’d got to him before Heather Mills because the world would be a different place.

You said Mary Magdalene was the original groupie. Why?
If you read the gospel according to Mary Magdalene, you see she was the one Jesus went to with his problems. They were a team. I relate to her. She saw the greatness in this man and wanted to encourage it.

You don’t see groupie-ing as insecure girls throwing themselves at famous men?
There is some of that, of course, but the true groupie wants to inspire the man who is inspiring her. She wants to show him affection and gratitude for the music he’s making. It’s a give-and-take relationship. Groupies are an important part of the music scene and they always will be.

Are you excited Led Zeppelin are getting back together?
Sure, it’ll be exciting for the fans who have never seen them. It was the most revolutionary music ever made and I’m thrilled young people will get a chance to see them.

Will you be following them around?
No. Are you kidding? I hang out with Robert Plant when he plays in America but I don’t follow them around. I never did, not even back in the 1960s.

What groups would you be after if you were a groupie now?
I’m in a relationship with a country singer called Mark Stinson. If I wasn’t, I find Ryan Adams interesting. I love his lyrics. I would always want to be with Bob Dylan – I don’t care how old we get.

What have you got coming up?
A book about The Byrds. It’s about my pre-groupie days, describing how a fan’s mind works. I’m using the Byrds scrapbook I made at the time. It’s probably the biggest Byrds scrapbook in the world.

http://www.metro.co.uk/fame/interviews/article.html?in_article_id=68712&in_page_id=11

 

[dinahgrace]

I just gotta post this vid:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlSOcjjfM3I

Patti D'Arbanville reads from Pamela Des Barres' new book 'Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies' at Soho McNally Robinson on July 9 2007. The text concerns her own relationship with Cat Stevens back in the 60's.

 

[lusia]

that interview is really great! i love how she descrives groupies.thanks dinahgrace!

 

[rayder]

i think the best groupies are from the 60s 70s and mybe 80's groupies now just when fame and money

 

[kanita]

I personally can't wait till the current day groupies start spilling their stories.

 

[nicovelvet]

Thank you DinahGrace for the great read!

 

[nicovelvet]

i think the best groupies are from the 60s 70s and mybe 80's groupies now just when fame and money

I have noticed that from the 80s and on, there is not much information about groupies. No famous one, like in the 60s and 70s, no TV interview, no books, nothing... Almost like the phenomena has disappeared or doesn't exist anymore. Which is impossible nor logical. Somewhere, I did read that bands were not into groupie so much since the apparition of AIDS... That could be an important factor... But, of course, boys will always be boys and there will always be girls who are into guys who are in bands... It is just that we don't hear about them... Intriguing...

 

[rayder]

I have noticed that from the 80s and on, there is not much information about groupies. No famous one, like in the 60s and 70s, no TV interview, no books, nothing... Almost like the phenomena has disappeared or doesn't exist anymore. Which is impossible nor logical. Somewhere, I did read that bands were not into groupie so much since the apparition of AIDS... That could be an important factor... But, of course, boys will always be boys and there will always be girls who are into guys who are in bands... It is just that we don't hear about them... Intriguing...

maybe i just say the 60s and 70s groupie

 

[dinahgrace]

Pamela recalls her days with Jim Morrison 'the Lizard King'.....

The Lizard of Aaaahs
by Pamela DesBarres

I was one of the few hundred people who watched the rise and demise of the Lizard King. In the early, early days, right in front of my greedy eyes, he would slink around the Sunset Strip, black leather unzipped, devilish grin - cocky and unremorseful. 'Aaaahhh,' we all whispered, 'What goes on behind that flawless face? Where does he go when the lights go all the way down?' Tousled, tormented and in demand, he led the parade with dangerous indifference. Even the naked facts do nothing to alter those early images: dark, messy ringlets, love beads, angry, penetrating scowl. Come hither, but be careful. 'Watch out. We want the world and we want it. . .now! Mother, , ,I want to, , ,when the music's over, turn out the lights, turn out. . .cancel my subscription. . .'

The first time I witnessed Jim Morrison slither onto a stage, I was bombed out of my mind on a very early version of PCP called Trimar. My friend Jerry, the bass player for the Iron Butterfly, smuggled it out of the hospital where he worked during the day. He got it in quart jars and gave it right to me. Wasn't I just the lucky one? An itsy-bitsy vial sold for for ten dollars on the street, so I was very popular that balmy night in Hollywood.

The club (a tiny underground cavern called Bido Lidos) was packed. I held onto sopping lace hankies of this incredibly dangerous drug - inhaling, giggling, waiting. The news was out all over town that this new band, the Doors, had a gorgeous, hot, divine singer. All of us wild and loony girls couldn't wait to get a load of him. The anticipation was high, and so were we. The band played for a few minutes without this divine singer. They were pretty cool - lots of organ, kind of moody and steamy. JIm Morrison didn't really walk onto the stage that evening. I know I was struggling with reality, but somehow he was just THERE.

He was holding onto the microphone like it was trying to get away, clutching it hard, moaning, eyes closed, feeling enough pain for everyone in the room. Oh God, and what did he look like?!? Aaaaah, I had to get a closer eye-ful. I staggered and squeezed my way down to the stage, and gazed up at a future rock legend in wonder. He's Hot, He's Sexy, He's Dead. Remember that Rolling Stone cover? I had never seen such blatant sexuality on stage. He writhed in horny anguish, demanding that everyone in the sweltering, stormy room light his fire. 'We want the world and we want it. . .Now.'

He hooked us all together. WE wanted the entire, f*cking world. Right this minute. I had seen the Stones a couple of times, and Mick Jagger definitely inspired some steamy-dreams, but he had his frenzy under control. Jim Morrison was so out of control that it scared people. It scared me close to imaginary death, and I loved it. While Mick suggested the danger which lurked in his trousers, Jim grabbed ahold of it and shook it in our faces. He defied the system with his dick, kind of a rock 'n' roll Lenny Bruce. His defiance was catching, and we all wanted a piece of it.

When he took a dive into the audience without premeditation, without hesitation, we all held him up, snatching up some of his stuff, oh, so briefly.

My girlfriend lucked out and rented the house above the Country Canyon Store in Laurel Canyon. It had a huge picture window, and we would sit on pillows, gazing out at God's golden back yard, waiting for one of the Byrds, or Arthur Lee from Love to stroll into the store. We would dash down the hundreds of steps and casually bump into them as they were wandering back out into the sunlight. Oh, excuse me. Would you like to come up and smoke a joint? Life was grand, Life was mellow, groovy and cool.

One afternoon I was alone at the house, lolling around in front of the window, I heard some familiar music leaking into the room. Aaaaahh, I could swear I know that sound. 'This is the end, my only friend, the end.' Mmmmm hmmmm. Definitely. I went to the window, drew aside the Indian bedspread, and heard it very clearly: the Doors. No doubt about it. Now, the Doors didn't have a record out yet. Everyone knew they got signed to Elektra and were busy recording. Wow. Who had a demo?????? Who had a copy of this precious hunk of pre-released vinyl??

I went out into the blasting rays, and down those few hundred rockstairs, until I was surrounded by that glorious music. It was pouring out of a small, green, wooden house, like right next door! The door was one of those real old fashioned jobs. The top half was open, and I could see the naked back of a guy digging around in his fridge, humming along with 'I'll never look into your eyes...again...' He grabbed a beer and when he turned around and started to knock it back, I let out a minor shriek. Lord have mercy on my teenage soul, it was Jim Morrison himself - those black leather pants unzipped to the danger zone.

My first impulse was to run, so I flew back up the stairs and waited for my heart to straighten itself out. My girlfriend came back from work and found me between hysteria and catatonia. When I told her about her infamous next door neighbor, she suggested I do the neighborly thing and pay him a little visit. Yeah! Cool idea. I inhaled a little fictitious confidence out of my quart jar and floated down the stairs to pay my respects.

Unfortunately, the awful brain-cell destroyer, Trimar, often created blackouts. So, when I found myself back in the real (?) world, I was in the middle of JIm Morrison's tatty Persian rug, antique dress over my head, showing off my backbend. Only, I wasn't alone with the Lizard King. I opened my eyes and stared into the face of a very pissed-off redhead. Uh-oh. The Lizard King was backed into a corner sort of hissing, 'Get it on...' while this redhead, who turned out to be Jim's girlfriend, asked me very impolitely to leave. The nerve! So un-neighborly! I was too high to be embarrassed, even though I should have been. So I bid my adieus and went back to the picture window.

A few minutes later, I heard a racket downstairs - a shrieking girl and something breaking - and soon after a tap on the door. It was Jim. He wanted to know what I was on, and if he could have some. Now, I'm sure it sounds like I was the drug addict of the century but that wasn't the case. Trimar and marijuana, that was it. I had no idea Trimar could be so damaging. It looked just like cool. clear water, and there was no big hangover. I just assumed this sparkling liquid was on the planet for my pleasure. Yeah right, Much later I found out it was used to knock out gorillas, elephants and whales. It was also injected into the spines of women in labor to anesthetize them. I still mourn the brain cells that bit the dust in those days. But on that sunny day in '67, I gave Mr. Morrison the quart jar, and soon we were rolling around the floor like old friends. I wish I could tell you all about the fabulous conversation we had, but I can't remember it - the price you pay.

A timeless time later, he went back to the redhead downstairs. I sopped myself up off the floor and fell into dreamland. The next afternoon, on my way back home to get cute, I was amazed to see a whole bunch of busted up Doors demos all over those rockstairs. I guess the girlfriend, whose name was also Pamela, had hurled them at Jim in a jealous rage. I hope the bad karma I incurred that day has been paid back already. You don't get away with anything.

That very night the Doors were playing The Hullabaloo Club at Sunset and Vine. I considered this extremely good timing. I got dolled up in a homemade bell - bottomed ensemble, complete with decomposing muskrat jacket, and paid a little visit to my Trimar connection. Then I stopped off at the soundcheck. Ah, the glory of the soundcheck. Not too many girls had figured out that between four and six in the afternoon, at almost any club, the band of the night would be tuning up and testing. . .one. . .two. . .one. . .two.

So I was the only one waiting at the backstage door when Jim arrived. He was happy to see me and took me by the hand to the hallowed backstage area. The rest of the band wasn't around, so I offered him a spot of Trimar from m orange-juice jar. He then suggested we find a quiet place to indulge. We poked around and found a ladder leading to a small, musty storage area. Jim laid out my beat up muskrat like it was a set of silk sheets. I'd brought my best lace hankies for the occasion, and we soaked them through before taking several deep whiffs. Up, up and away.

We landed in horny nirvana, throbbing and pulsating, making out like maniacs, until we heard the early stages of 'Light My Fire' somewhere in the distant distance. His gorgeous face loomed before me, and I could see him trying to figure out where he was, what he was doing, and what he was supposed to be doing. Then realization hit, and he was down the ladder and gone. I laid there looking at the glowing spot where his face had been, trying to gather up my limbs ad make them function. Then I followed him - very dumb move. I walked right onstage with the Doors and stood there, gaping like a goon. A large, kind faced roadie escorted me from the stage. I guess I should have been embarrassed one more time, but I wasn't The Trimar wore off, and I watched the show from the sings, my favorite vantage point.

I don't know how Jim got to the gig, but when the music was over, he climbed behind the wheel of my '62 Oldsmobile. We cruised into the wild Hollywood night. I assumed we would get back into the quart jar and some heavy petting, but I was in for a major surprise. After some date-nut bread and fresh OJ at the now defunct, legendary Tiny Naylors on La Brea and Sunset, he headed for the Hollywood Hills. He grabbed the jar of Trimar and hurled it into some massively overgrown ivy. 'That stuff could hurt our heads.' he drawled. 'Now we won't be tempted. Had it been anyone other than Jim Morrison, I might have been seriously pissed off, but I took it like a big girl. He actually gave me a small lecture on the evils of drugs. He told me his disorderly stage persona was just an elaborate act to go along with the music. I felt like a privileged insider, but I didn't believe it for a minute.

I had my head on his shoulder and he was calling me 'darling.' It was a sweet summer dream come true. I had hopes for the future when I dropped him off at that little motel across from the Roxy (even though it wasn't there yet.) He told me to come by and see him the next day. He gave me a wet kiss and a tender, penetrating look like in those famous, shirtless magazine photos. I was on cloud twenty-two.

The next evening I spent an hour and a half milling through my velvet dresses and boas trying to figure out what would please the Lizard King, but when I flounced into the motel, I discovered that Mr. Morrison had checked out. Oh well, at least I had my moment in the moonlight. Oh yes, I tried to find the ivy patch where Jim had thrown the half-empty bottle of Trimar, but it was gone forever. And I never, ever took another whiff again. Too bad he didn't follow his own astute advice on the evils of drugs.

The years rolled on by. The mystery of Jim Morrison became very tarnished in his home town. As the sixties wound down, he could be seen on the Sunset Strip on any given night, staggering around, muttering and/or screaming to himself. Green fools from Orange County dribbled over him as he growled and stung with his eyes, but the locals actually started avoiding him. He spit. He threw up. He pissed in the street.

One night I went to the Whisky A Go-Go desperate to have fun. The normal-formal group, The Ohio Express were playing, but I was determined to rock-out. I was sitting with Miss Lucy from my band, the GTOs, when Jim Morrison slid into our booth. He hollered 'Get it on!!! Suck my mama!!!' Jim definitely had a thing about his mom, no doubt about it. Anyway, we were nice to him (I still harbored a secret adoration), but he was in one of those infamous moods. - again, and very drunk, too.

He reached across the table, yelled 'Get it on!' Then he grabbed Miss Lucy's beer and hurled it in her face. She got pretty upset and told him he wasn't very nice. He said, 'I know', in a sad sorrowful voice, like he couldn't help it. Like that disturbed, disorderly persona he had told me about the night he tossed the Trimar had finally taken over. Right before he crawled over to the stage and climbed on with The Ohio Express he slapped me hard across the face for no reason. It was like he was trying to feel something.

With my cheek throbbing, and teary mascara running down my face, I watched as he grabbed the microphone away from the singer, moaned into it and shoved it down his pants. Ok, Jim, enough already. Poor Mario, the owner of the Whisky had to turn off the lights and sound to get Jim out of the way. It was heartbreaking. 'When the music's over, turn out the lights'...It just wasn't right.

Copyright 2002 by Pamela DesBarres/ Waiting-forthe-Sun.net

http://archives.waiting-forthe-sun.net/Pages/Players/Women/des_barres.html

 

[dinahgrace]

^I love how she writes, it really brings back the exciting spirit of their days.

that interview is really great! i love how she descrives groupies.thanks dinahgrace!

Thank you DinahGrace for the great read!

Lusia & NicoVelvet, you guys are welcome!

 

[KhaoticKharma]

I personally can't wait till the current day groupies start spilling their stories.

Really? For some reason, I can't see them being terrible interesting. Besides, most of the coolest rock stars are married with families at this point.

Adam Levine was a sex addict! Ok, and?
James Blunt was a bad lay! Am I supposed to be suprised...?
Justin Timberlake would always go on tangents about how he wanted to settle down and find someone who understood him between passionate bouts of love making! *yawn*

 

[dinahgrace]

Adam Levine was a sex addict! Ok, and?
James Blunt was a bad lay! Am I supposed to be suprised...?

 

[nicovelvet]

Really? For some reason, I can't see them being terrible interesting. Besides, most of the coolest rock stars are married with families at this point.


Justin Timberlake would always go on tangents about how he wanted to settle down and find someone who understood him between passionate bouts of love making! *yawn*

Yeah... Right on! Hahaha!!! Great post!

 

[nicovelvet]

Dinahgrace, this piece about Jim Morrison by Pamela DesBarres is really, really interesting! I love Pamela; she is a great lady with a great sense of humor and a heart of gold. She has her own page at MySpace... Yes, and I also love the way she writes. Thanks!

 

[dinahgrace]

^ Glad you like it Nicovelvet!
I'm truly fascinated with her stories. She writes them with such delightful humor. It's amazing how she can still recall every detail of what happened then. And Jim Morrison is so electrifying! I mean there's just something about him....Oh and the redhead woman she's talking about is definitely Pamela Courson!!!

 

[BohoBelle]

What a great thread! How could we forget about Marianne Faithfull, who in my book is not a groupie, but a Rock Geshia. Sooo beautiful. Patti, Jane, Pamela Courson, Mo Starkey and Anita Pallenberg. I think I was a rock star wife/gf in the 60's in a past life...

 

[auxt]

I mentioned this groupies LP a while ago ... I just uploaded my copy to share, but as I was going to post the link I found the mp3s elsewhere at a higher bitrate:

The Groupies: Side One, The Groupies: Side Two
taken from http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2006/10/no_head_no_back.html

There are numerous (26!) other groupie-related soundfiles at the link, too ... .
I haven't had the chance to listen to any of the others yet, but let me know if you find anything cool.

 

[Little Tiny]

I am just so jealous reading about all of that with Mick Jagger.Those were the days and those girls REALLY LIVED.I want Mick Jagger and Bob Dylan now,I am just like those stories,how they feel about the music.A Band Aid,not groupie.
-find more please....and Thank You!!!!

 

[dinahgrace]

Auxt you are amazing! I can't thank you enough! Karma for you!!!!

I've always wanted to listen to the GTO's album! Now, I shall listen to more of those soundfiles!!! Thanks again!