Whenever I read something by Miss Pamela, I can’t help but turn green with envy. But my jealousy in not for the nights she spent in the beds of famous rock stars– I know that musicians don’t make good boyfriends. No, it would be more about living her timeline: catching the end of Elvis’ heyday, Beatlemania, The Stones, and Zeppelin, and all of the good stuff in between, not to mention her writing career. Alas, I was born in the wrong decade. I got the freakin’ boy bands.
While Miss Pamela’s story kicks off the book, each chapter is dedicated to a famous groupie, or band aid, or back stage slut, or sludgette, whatever you want to call them. The chapters move chronologically- from Miss Pamela’s gang, on to her younger competition, gals who ruled other regions, and the contemporaries. The stories, while all interesting on their own merits, range from the appropriately descriptive, to the vague and/or questionable, to the downright dishy. Most of the girls kiss and tell.
It’s amazing how you could divide the book into three parts: the Jimmy Page age, the Taime Downe era, and the Marilyn Manson years. Those guys show up everywhere. And there are some guys in there that you wouldn’t have guessed- Kurt Cobain, Neil Diamond… even Willie Nelson is mentioned in passing.
I have to admit, some of the chapters made me cringe. Not only is it sometimes explicit, describing details I would prefer to leave to the depths of my own fantasies, but some of these girls and the rock stars are living cliches. Ick.
Stylistically, this book is a bit of a mixed bag. Some chapters are detailed accounts that draw you into the story, while others stick to the interview format, making it a bit hard to get into. And- I have to throw this in since I am a former Austinite- the hotel in the Texas Blondes’ chapter is spelled Driskill.
All in all, warm up your winter with this one.
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