Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies

by Pamela Des Barres

  Lisa: I only used condoms when they wanted to. If they had one, we'd use it.

  Pamela: So let's hear about Mr. Rebel Yell, Patti.

  Patti: I met Billy at the Rainbow. I was standing at the top of the stairs to the loft-the Lair of the Hollywood Vampires. From my vantage point I could see a perfect microcosm of '80s rockers: "There's one who looks like Nikki, one who looks like Vince, and that guy thinks he's Billy Idol." Then I looked again. "Holy shit, that is Billy Idol!" I flew down the stairs, skidded to a stop in front of him, presented my ample cleavage for his perusal, and with obvious innuendo, I asked, "Can I get you anything?" He understood my offer, and with a sexy smile, said, "Yeah, a Jack and Coke." I brought his drink, saying, "It's on me," but he handed me a twenty and said, "Rock 'n' roll paid for it, din'nit?" Then I asked if he'd like to smoke a joint with me after work. He smiled broadly and said, "Yeah, I would!"

  Pamela: So you were a forward groupie?

  Patti: You have to be forward in L.A. There's too much competition!

  Lisa: Out here, maybe, but back home I was kind of quiet.

  Patti: So, after the fastest last call and clean up in the history of waitressing, I left the Rainbow with Billy. My bosses and father figures all nodded approvingly, always proud when one of their girls scored a rock star. Billy put his arm around me and went to catch a cab. We walked past Taime Downe, my very first lover in Hollywood, and he smiled as if to say, "You're gonna have a good time tonight!" He was right.

  Pamela: Several girls have told me Taime stories. There must be something about him.. .

  Patti: Taime was so gorgeous, like a sleazy Marilyn Monroe with a cock. He had that raunchy, '80s glam rocker scent: testosterone mixed with Aquanet and Max Factor. Ali, the intoxicating smell of a man wearing makeup. Anyway, minutes after Billy and I got to my apartment, I was getting rug burns from making out on my living room floor. He's so sexy and his body is absolutely perfect. Billy takes the wheel and he knows how to drive. I finally came up for air, long enough to suggest that we go to bed. He's intensely sexual and knew exactly what I wanted. And I discovered how kinky he was when he asked me to put things up his bum! I'm game for anything that gives pleasure. Just because I don't accept rear deliveries doesn't mean I won't play with you in your backyard. The "sex toys" he found to use were everyday items around my bedroom. My hairbrush got a turn up his ass, then my stiletto heel. As I saw him looking around, I couldn't help but think, "Please tell me I put the broom away!" This was as kinky as I'd ever been, but he was so fun and sweet about it. He'd stop every once in a while, look in my eyes, and ask, "It's a bit wild, yeah? But it's OK?" And I said, "Yeah, it's fine. I'm having fun!" He'd keep stopping and checking in with me, "It's just a laugh, in'it?" It was a laugh, and it was incredibly satisfying sex.

  Pamela: Did you see him again?

  Patti: Yeah, a few times. One night, I was home listening to his music. The phone rang, I picked it up, and a familiar, sexy voice said, "Hey, Patti, it's Billy." I said, "Sorry about the loud music. I was just getting my Billy Idol fix." In his thick, Cockney accent, he said, "How would you like the real thing?" Yes, please! That was a great rock star moment. Next thing I knew, I was in a cab flying to the Sunset Marquis. We spent another wild night, making love on every available surface, with only Billy's imagination to guide us. And his imagination was endless. He even requested a golden shower! I can remember one perfect moment. His rock hard body was on top of mine, and I could feel him inside me, slow and steady, rockin' "the cradle of love." I glanced over his shoulder and his new video was playing on TV. I laid back down and looked up at Billy. The real thing is so much more fun.

  Pamela: Do you think regular sex bores him? Does it have to be kinky?

  Patti: Kinky is in the eye of the beholder, I guess. But after being with him, I heard a rumor he had AIDS. He was a promiscuous rock star, was known to use heroin, and liked things up the bum. That's about as high risk as you can get. I took the test and I was fine, and obviously so was he. Still, after being paralyzed with fear waiting for test results, and with logic only a groupie would understand, I conjured up all sorts of creative ways to have safe sex with Billy, not using a condom. Luckily, Billy was so wild, anywhere I wanted his bodily fluids was fine with him. Like, "Hey, we could do a money shot on my tits!" I managed to have fairly safe sex, and didn't have to utter the one word that I never wanted to say to a rock star again. . . "No."

  Pamela: Money shot, hmm? I've never heard that term before.

  Lisa: I met the guys in Britny Fox a few times and hooked up with Michael Kelly Smith. We spent some great evenings together-always on the bus-never in his hotel room. Fine by me. Tour buses are way sexier than a cheap-ass Holiday Inn. He was the first guy to ever enjoy a "money shot" with me. And he gave me his hairdresser's name so I could get hair extensions like his when I got to L.A.

  Pamela: How thoughtful. Did you dolls ever get your hearts broken by a rock star?

  Lisa: I stopped sleeping with rock stars for a long time, because I fell in love with Elwood, a roadie for Aerosmith. I met him while lobby loitering, pretending to make a phone call, and he bought it. He gave me a key to the bus and my own laminated pass. We had a long-term relationship. He was the love of my life. It still breaks my heart that we didn't make it. I had tons of other heartbreak because I always got my hopes up. Like with C.J. Snare from Firehouse. I was devastated when I found out he was married. I wanted to be "rescued" from my life and thought only a boy could do that for me. I didn't realize I was already rescuing myself.

  Patti: I was madly in love with Taime.

  Pamela: It's amazing how many girls have been with Taime Downe. And they still adore him!

  Patti: Taime's a great guy. He's really down-to-earth and doesn't lead you on. And believe me, Taime knows what he's doing. He'd throw me down and fuck me like "the whore that I am!" But ultimately I realized I was the only one who was being exclusive. When I asked him about it, he seemed sad, like he didn't want to hurt me. Then he said quite honestly, "I never said you were my girlfriend." I realized, "You're right, you didn't." It's actually the sweetest breakup I've ever had, and the way it ended allowed us to stay friends. Even after we stopped sleeping together, he'd sing my praises and occasionally announce that I gave great head. I'm a groupie, so I'm proud of that. Practice makes perfect! My husband's sexual history is shorter than mine, and he never got a lot of oral sex. I always tell him, "It's so sad that you don't even know how good I am at this." He slyly says, "Oh, yes, I do."

  Pamela: Was there anybody you craved like that, Lisa?

  Lisa: I wanted Vivian Campbell in Whitesnake badly. Nearly had him too. He invited me to the bus and we made out. Then he changed his mind and decided to call his wife. What a good boy. I also wanted Sebastian Bach, the gorgeous singer for Skid Row, but the guitar player, Snake, hit on me, and I wound up with him for several more shows. I was with two guys from Tesla one night. I met Tommy Skeoch briefly before their show. When I saw him afterward, bold, brave me, said, "I really want to fuck you." And he took me up on my offer. What fun we had in the dressing room that night! When we finished, we went out to talk with the rest of the band. That's when Tommy got the great idea of doing it again, and he asked Frank Hannon to join us. That was fun. I thought, "This will make a great story for the grandkids."

  Pamela: Was that your only "sharing" experience?

  Lisa: I'm not quite sure. One night, I was with Skid Row and wanted to get my nose pierced. Rachel Bolan, who's famous for his nose rings, said, "I'll do it." I proceeded to get trashed because I knew it would hurt. We didn't have any ice, so he poured Jack Daniel's on my nose, saying, "This will numb it." Then he stuck me with a safety pin. I screamed, so he repierced it with an earring. We were hanging out, watching TV in the room he shared with Snake. The next thing I knew, it was morning. I woke up in Snake's bed with a roadie standing over me, saying, "It's time to go." I have no memory of that night, but there was a video camera lying on the floor. Perhaps my dr
eams of starring in a rock video were realized. It's a shame I passed out and missed it. That's one of those yucky groupie stories, which explains why I didn't usually get so wrecked.

  Pamela: Is that your only questionable groupie experience?

  Lisa: The first time I met Warrant, Eric Turner was being sweet while trying to get in my pants. I didn't stay with him that night, but we did have a long talk. Then I saw him again and we had a great time. When he fell asleep, I went looking for my friend, and found her talking to the lead singer, Jani Lane. He proceeded to pounce on me in a big way. Well, not a big way, by the feel of things. He asked me to walk him to his room. Halfway there, he pulled out his dick (yes, I was right about it) and told me to suck it. He was gross and I knew if I slept with him, my dreams of Eric falling in love with me would never happen.

  Pamela: Do you stay in touch with any of your rock amours?

  Lisa: I'm still close with Michael Lardie, the keyboard player from Great White-and I have friends I stay in contact with-mostly roadies. I always left things friendly, so they all seem genuinely happy to see me again.

  Patti: I've stayed in touch with Taime and a few other free spirits. But, unfortunately, a lot of their girlfriends don't believe in "old friends" like me.

  Pamela: It seems you girls often hooked up with roadies.

  Patti: Roadies are right in the center of the decadence, like pirates. When Aerosmith played the Forum in '89, we didn't have tickets, but we were sitting on the roadies' tour bus. Somebody said, "If you don't have tickets, why are you here?" I said, "The circus is in town! Just because we're not in the Big Top doesn't mean we can't play in the sawdust."

  Pamela: One of the unfortunate cliches in groupiedom is having to do "favors" to get backstage. Did you ever?

  Lisa: I rarely had to go that direction.

  Patti: It was only twice for me. I always thought, "I don't want to shake the hand of my idol with the same hand that jacked off his drum tech."

  Pamela: A wonderful groupie rule! Did you ever do a favor to get a pass, then not get one?

  Lisa: No, never!

  Patti: No, there is honor among thieves. Never did I do something and not get my pass. And visa versa. If I promised something for a pass, I delivered. I'd rather be a slut than a cock tease.

  Pamela: With all the trauma and drama involved, why was it so important to be with the band?

  Patti: They asked me that on VH1's When Metal Ruled the World. It's that feeling, "They want to be with me." How could I continue to be crushed because my high school boyfriend didn't want me when David Lee Roth did?

  Lisa: Exactly. And there was something about being the outcast in high school. I'd go to shows and be standing at the light board and see those bitches who'd been horrible to me. And I thought, "I'm not a rock star, but I'll be with one tonight!"

  Patti: And these rock stars always wanted a repeat performance. If I showed up in the next town, even with all new girls to choose from, they wanted me again. I know some people find it sad that we found validation in rock stars and sex. But being a groupie taught me never to settle for less. I can't imagine what my life would be like without my groupie experiences. I'd probably still be in Battle Creek, divorced from the first loser that gave me attention.

  Pamela: How does your husband feel about your colorful past, Patti?

  Patti: By the time I met my husband in 1990, I wanted to be loved, not in spite of who I was, but because of it. I learned the I-can-do-anything-I set-my-mind-to mantra by being a groupie, and all of my dreams came true. That same determination is how I finally found the man I'd been looking for. My husband knows everything about my groupie days. He's a musician, he's proud of me, and he gets it. I am the sum of all my parts. I'm a wife, a mother, and a groupie, and I'm proud of it all.

  Lisa: Recently I was hanging out with some middle-aged "mean girls," and they ripped into me, saying, "You're just a groupie!" and I thought, "As a matter of fact, yes, I am."

  Patti: Like it's a dirty word! I'm thinking, "Fuck you. You wish you were with the band." But I don't usually tell my stories with this much detail. I might say, Taime and I both appreciated the fact that I enjoyed going "Downe."

  Pamela: I have to ask, how would you feel about your daughters being groupies?

  Patti: If that's the path they choose, I hope they have the time of their lives, because I sure did. I'd only worry about them having safe sex.

  Lisa: I agree. Whoever my daughter is with, I just hope she's safe.

  Patti: I was in the Rainbow one night, talking about being a groupie. This woman butted in, and said, "Don't lower yourself." I responded by saying, "Listen, unless you've never left a bar with someone you just met, you have nothing to say to me. There's no difference between us except this: tonight you'll leave here with someone you just met, climb into a Pinto, pick up a six-pack, and head to a Motel 6, where you'll spend the night with a stranger. I will, however, leave here with a rock star I just met, climb into a limo, drink champagne, and head to the Hyatt, where I'll spend the night with a stranger that I've seen on MTV. Which one of us has the better deal?" As Steven Tyler said, "We give it out and the groupies give it back." Once, I was standing by a backstage door in all my groupie regalia, when some woman sneered, "What are you supposed to be?" And I said, "I'm the reason they picked up a guitar in the first place."

  Come as You Are

  have long been fascinated with rebellious types, from Mozart to Walt Whitman, from Elvis to Eminem. I honor them for not being able to keep their candor, fury, and naked truth under wraps, even when it hurts like mad.

  So where have all the outraged rock stars gone? Real rock stars are supposed to upend tables, point fingers, and shake drumsticks at the flimsy, insidious status quo. I believe the last rock star that wreaked such havoc in the world was the late Kurt Cobain. Like Dylan, he was able to put into words what was lurking within the hearts and minds of his disillusioned fans. For better or worse, he single-handedly altered rock fashion forever, but what he contributed musically and sociologically far outweighs the plethora of flannel-wearing wannabes that moaned and wept in his wake. He was a multitalented, desperately angstridden genius, and he pointed out small-minded hypocrisy and the shameless sellout of his pissed-off generation. Nirvana altered music the way the Sex Pistols had a decade earlier, and it was a welcome slap in the face. Kurt unwittingly became eerily close to what he was railing against, which I feel added to his reasons for leaving us all behind. I met him once when I interviewed Courtney Love at their messy house in damp, gray Seattle, and his torment was a palpable thing that filled the room.

  In my search for open-hearted groupies, Lexa from the Plastics suggested I meet a certain sensual, edgy brunette who's been making her name as a singer in Hollywood. "Miss B," as she wants to be called for this chapter, also spent several nights with Kurt Cobain just as he donned his rusty grunge crown.

  She doesn't make any pretense about the difficult and shady turns her life has sometimes taken, but she's feeling more optimistic these days. She e-mailed me some bombshell photos of herself-heavily darkened, come-hither brown eyes, extra lowcut black lace accenting her voluptuous curves-so I am surprised by her initial shyness when I arrive for our interview. She has just moved into a charming deco apartment in West Hollywood and there is nothing on the walls except a poster for Gus Van Sant's film Last Days with Michael Pitt uncannily channeling Kurt Cobain. While we chat, Miss B focuses on three absurdly cute baby kittens that take turns purring in our laps.

  It turns out that she was introduced to the dizzying world of rock and roll at thirteen by an old friend of mine, Steppenwolf guitarist Michael Monarch. "It was very exciting for me," she says, intently stroking her jet-black kitty, "especially because I don't come from normalcy. I come from a broken home. I was a foster child, so I was really looking for something that would tie me in to people I could hang out with." Her relationship with Monarch was purely platonic, but the fact that she felt included gave her some much-craved se
lf-assurance. "The music scene became a family that I could fit into perfectly. It seems like anybody can fit into some kind of genre of music, so I found a welcome home right away."

  With almost no parental nurturing or attention, Miss B made her way to the Sunset Strip, seeking counsel from unlikely rockers. "I was just finding my way, not even looking for that kind of scene. But I've always loved music. I really didn't have an identity. I'm almost a Jane Doe because I didn't know who my father was, so it made me feel special to be involved with well-known people. I became very attached to guys who were famous, and believe it or not, I was finding my identity through them. It helped me move forward in life and made me think, `If I can be with this person, that means that I am worthy of just about anything.'"

  Today Miss B is a member of two local rock bands, playing bass for Krell, a metal band she describes as "Marilyn Manson meets Black Sabbath," and fronting a tribute cover band that mainly focuses on Jefferson Airplane anthems. She's been writing for local Hollywood papers for ten years. She had a small recurring role on HBO's Deadwood. She also admits to being a longtime groupie but wishes the word hadn't become so besmirched. "I've had people label me, `Oh, you're such a groupie,' and I laugh and say, `You wish you were!' Rock stars marry their groupies-Sid and Nancy, Kurt and Courtney. I mean, what is a groupie anyway? Somebody who enjoys music and wants to be around it. I don't like when it's used in a derogatory sense because everybody wants to get backstage. I was at a show recently and my friend asked, `How do we get back there?' I said, `I'll get back there.' I just walked right in and she hated me for it. I was like, `Sorry, but I'm good at this.' I also wanna say that from a musician's standpoint, most people in bands are groupies as well because they like to be with other groups. You could say that about half the world is made up of groupies, you know?"