I finally got around to reading the groupie memoir, I’m with the Band: Confessions of a Groupie by Pamela DesBarres. I can’t decide if I am jealous of or pity her revolving bedroom door of legendary rock stars. In same cases, she paints a portrait of mutual admiration in which she adores the talent and the talent adores her over-the-top personality and cowboy shirt making skills. However, there are many affairs that fit the stereotypical relationship you would imagine exists between a traveling rock idol and a “groupie”. She is led on, mistreated and comes back for more.
There is something to be said for hearing about the musicians from a female perspective, especially one so frank and with such specific knowledge. Rock memoirs written by male “historians” are often filled with rehashed, lackluster tales of on the road hijinks. They lack the spark of the been there and done that (double entendre intended). My mental image of several of my favorite rock icons including Jimmy Page and Mick Jagger, will be forever altered by the intimate narratives Pamela shares.
Pamela describes herself as a “carer of creative souls,” which, to me, is a noble calling in life. She has gone about it in a bit of a different way than I may have but who’s to say what one would do living in the epicenter of the free love movement.