Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies (44 page)

There was an underground buzz about Nirvana's first album, Bleach, already a pre-grunge classic, and they were playing small clubs around town. Miss B says that surprisingly, Kurt's dream was to move his band to sunny California. "He wanted to be out of the Seattle thing. Even though he had affection for Washington, he wanted to make it in California. I think growing up in Aberdeen helped nourish his misery, because he took that dismal outlook with him-it didn't change when he was in L.A. Still, he wanted the California dream and he was gonna live it, he was gonna make his music, and he wanted make it here. He was very intelligent. He was well read and into philosophy, but the drugs probably sidetracked him."

Kurt was a junkie, and even though speed and coke were Miss B's drugs of choice, they soon started "palling around." "I had done heroin-the snorting kind. I hadn't done the injecting kind. A lot of people around me were injecting dope. I was drugged out and so was he. I was usually going in a faster-paced mode, and he was slower-paced, but he was always friendly, a very nice and gentle person. He complimented me on my looks and my personality because he was into people's personalities more than what they looked like. Maybe that's why I got to liking him." Miss B laughs. "And we shared the same interest in music-we both liked the Lemonheads. Those days must have been like the late '60s all over again-people were just going out and doing whatever during that time. We spent about a month or two together, and I kept in contact with him. I was living in Hollywood and he would stay with me, then I'd go over to his motel. At the time there was a motel across from the Roxy, but they tore it down." When I tell her that Jim Morrison stayed at that same little motel when he was fighting with his girlfriend Pamela, she shakes her head. "It figures they'd live in the same place. Anyway, I'd pick Kurt up and we'd do certain errands."

These "certain" errands were mainly of an illegal nature, but spending so much time together created an intimacy between the two young misfits. "He was a real sweetheart; a little skinny, but attractive, small-boned, and not as tall as I usually go for, but he was hot looking. A lot of our relationship consisted of going to get dope, coming back, and doing it. We just became friendly in that way. I never had great self-esteem, and Kurt had the same problem. He was the most kindhearted rock star I've been with, definitely. It's funny because both of us were the same way. I don't know who was the more outgoing of the two-probably me, because he was so shy. I never understood why, but he had the same problem I had: self-loathing. I can't say I feel like that today because I like myself now. But I still have this scary other side that Kurt had all over. He didn't feel worthy of anything, you know? That's why I think when he became famous he couldn't handle it. It was overwhelming, and he didn't feel deserving of it, and that's really tragic."

I certainly agree that Kurt seemed to be the most obviously tortured artist since Vincent Van Gogh chopped off his earlobe and sent it to a hooker. "He was almost Gothic. If he'd had black hair, he would have been a Goth guy. He had deep trouble and chronic pain," Miss B continues. "There were problems with his stomach-bleeding ulcers-and he would get very ill. But what he complained of was not only physical. He had mental pain."

I know the heroin use must have assuaged some of Kurt's discomfort, but didn't Miss B worry that he might accidentally die from an overdose?

"Yes," she says quietly, "and he was always tragic, as are most of the men I've been with. From what I've heard, Jim Morrison was like that, too. They all have a common theme: a kind of death wish. So I knew from the early stages that something could go wrong. He was a suicide junkie-if you knew him, you would know that. Most people in rock 'n' roll have it to some degree. They're different from the rest of us; they're a different breed."

I comment that at least Kurt's desire to express himself overcame his anguish long enough for him to create some of the most profoundly influential music in rock history.

"Yeah, well, most artists, actors, or musicians, a lot of them are shy people but they come out of their shells during their music and their acting."

Somewhere along the line, the kindred tortured souls started spending nights together. "I don't even know how it happened, but it did, and Kurt was an excellent, tender lover," Miss B sighs deeply before providing some pretty potent insight into Kurt Cobain. "Basically, he was into cross-dressing."

Wow. Well, I suppose it does make sense. When he wasn't wearing flannel, Kurt showed up on stage in long skirts and smeared glam makeup, seemingly quite comfortable flaunting his androgyny. Since she has claimed to be fairly square sexually, how did Miss B respond to Kurt's particular quirk? "I don't know. He did ask me about it before he dressed up. `If I show you this, are you gonna be OK with it?' And I was like `I'm fine ... whatever.' He wore pantyhose with cut-out parts in certain areas, high heels, dresses, wigs, makeup: the whole thing. Strangely enough the sex was very regular, nothing out of the ordinary. There was never another person involved. The only oddity was that he dressed up a lot-that was his specialty, that's what he liked. Kurt knew his masculinity and his femininity. They were mixed together and he was all right with that."

I ask Miss B where Kurt got the various ladies' garments. "He had some of his own women's clothes made for him," she says. "And he was the kind of person who would go into your closet. He was a Dumpster diver, too, and he got stuff out of the trash. I can attest to that because I saw it with my own eyes. He would pick random places around the Hollywood area, then he'd bring a bundle of women's clothes to my house along with wigs and makeup and jewelry. I don't know where he got the wigs. He would also wear my things. I was glammy back then, very into makeup and clothes. I was stylish-probably more so than I am now. I had Lip Service skull and crossbone pants, everything that was cool, and Kurt was creative with the outfits, too."

About the same time Kurt went back to Seattle, Miss B moved to Florida to tidy up her act. "I was only twenty years old, and I left L.A. so I wouldn't be wrecked. I was so far into the scene and so messed up on dope."

Kurt and Miss B spoke on the phone occasionally until Courtney Love came barreling into the picture. "We didn't stay in touch after the thing with Courtney started; I played a small part in his life, and I don't want Courtney coming up to me going, `I'm gonna kick your butt.' She's an outspoken, strong person, and I understand why he was attracted to her. I think she's really cool, and I don't feel she's at all responsible for Kurt's death, and I hate people who say she is. I was very saddened when I heard he had killed himself. But I wasn't shocked; I saw it coming. He used to try to find ways to hurt himself. I don't think he understood the impact he would make or even dreamed that he'd make the impact he did."

Miss B and I play with the kittens, who've just roused from their naps, and we bemoan the sorrows of drug addiction. "But drugs also spawned the creativity that is Nirvana," she claims. "Because he probably couldn't have expressed what was going on inside him, or even gotten up on a stage without them."

When she returned from her healing stint in Florida, Miss B made the acquaintance of another of Seattle's finest, Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder. They wound up at the infamous Riot House for a night of frolicking. Mr. Vedder has always seemed so low-profile and untouchable. How the heck did she make that happen? "I went backstage at his concert and met him," she says simply. "I have a knack. I just do it-I can't really describe how I do it. I ended up knowing so many people, and I kind of worked it. It probably had something to do with the way I was dressing: really provocative with my boobs hanging out, tight T-shirts and Lip Service pants. But I was still grungy. I worked my sexiness. At one point I went to the Billboard Awards and interviewed George Harrison-not many people can say that. I really worked the fact that I wrote for a rock magazine. I was young and pretty and used it to my advantage. Yeah, I had a good time with Eddie, but his personality wasn't as interesting as Kurt's."

Soon after her very close encounter with Pearl jam's sensitive wailer, Miss B met a roadie for Slayer, fell in love, and settled into a fairly normal rock relationship that lasted eight years. They even made it legal, but she came to realize that wedded bliss wasn't what she hoped it would be. "My marriage broke up, but we stayed good friends. I went right back into the old rockstar routine. I hooked up with Taime again and my old habits. I ended up liking Taime too much. I wanted to be his girlfriend."

From what I've heard, Taime Downe cannot be tamed or tied down. "Oh, I think he could be," Miss B protests. "He's had long-term girlfriends. But I pushed the issue. I was into him and called him all the time. I could have done the same thing with Kurt, had Kurt been around longer."

What is it about Taime that evokes such passionate fervor in Miss B? "I think he's made an amazing impact on the L.A. scene. He's done a lot musically. Taime's a fabulous front man, so I think he will go down in history-not like Nirvana, of course, but his band, Faster Pussycat, has a huge cult following. I love his version of `You're So Vain' and the cover of `These Boots Are Made for Walkin'.' And he's got a lot of great original material."

I put a halt to the Taime tirade by asking Miss B what she's been listening to lately, besides Taime Downe. "Nowadays I listen to gothic music, metal, classic rock. I try to have a mix, you know? I've been spending some quality time with Matthew Robert from this great industrial band, New Rising Son. They even sampled my voice on their new record."

I peel a kitten off my lap and ask Miss B how she sees her future. "My only goals are to keep doing my acting, music, and art. I'm living for that right now. If it turns out that I should get married and have ten children, well, then, it turns out that way. If it turns out that I'm dead before forty, then it turns out like that. It's not that I don't like living; I do. It's just the way I live, I know I can't go on this way forever. Sometimes I go to goth clubs and people are like, `You can become one of us.' And I say, `If you think you can make me immortal with your vampire teeth, go right ahead, but I don't think it's gonna happen.' I was wearing a T-shirt the other day that said `Outlaw'; I'm definitely a rebel. I really am the epitome of somebody who is living for the moment."

1 _~, P&q6 pe-tJ

The Male Groupie

saw an old TV show where Dick Cavett was interviewing

Janis Joplin, and he asked if she had male groupies. She said, `Not nearly enough,' and I felt strangely validated." So begins my first fascinating chat with Mr. Ian Wagner, more flamboyantly known as "Pleather." Our initial meeting takes place at the swell old Hollywood landmark, the Farmers Market on Fairfax Avenue. I've been frequenting this classic hotspot for decades, enjoying many tasty turkey burgers and crab salad platters with the likes of Ron and Russell Mael from Sparks, my ex-husband Michael, and our boy, Nick. Today I've suggested lunch at the Gumbo Pot. As I peruse the yummy Cajun menu, I suggest my guests try the scrumptious oyster po'boy.

The slim, seemingly shy Pleather has brought along Drama, the disarming, outspoken platinum blonde bass player in the alldoll, straightedge (no drugs, no booze) band Switchblade Kittens. When I ask Pleather how he got such a unique nickname, he can't seem to remember. Drama certainly can: "It was the pants. He has this pair of pleather pants that are extremely formfitting and you see his endowments very clearly." Aha.

But thirty-two-year-old Pleather insists that despite his renowned proportions, he's never been a show-off. "I'm not that type, but what the hey, it's worked wonders for me. I had never considered myself a groupie until Drama informed me of that fact. I was just living my life, then I went through a couple of her band members, or they went through me. I started telling Drama all my stories and she said, `You are a groupie.' And I said, 'OK, I guess I am.' I never thought of the term as having a negative connotation, and now I'm proud of it. People don't understand how much it's about the music. I'm not just turned on by a woman playing an instrument; it's the empathy I have with the musician. I want to get close to the creativity. That's all."