She's Fun, She's a Fan, and She's With the Band: The History of the Groupie

For every Keith Moon, there was a Pamela Des Barres. For every Sid Vicious, a Nancy Spungen. For every sunset strip rockstar, a young groupie by his side– a Sable Starr, a Cynthia “Plaster Caster,” or a Lori Mattix. Since the 1960s, the term “groupie” has been used to refer to girls who religiously follow and support their favorite rock musicians. Newly liberated by the “free love” movement of the ‘60s, young women who wanted in on the rock 'n' roll lifestyle flocked to their favorite artists, desperate for a connection with their idols. 

These musicians would often take the starstruck fans under their wing, adopting them as live-in admirers. These women existed as pseudo figureheads of the bands they supported; they were unpaid promoters, merch designers, encyclopedias of knowledge, and beacons of light. They frequently kept the personal lives of band members in check, sometimes even cooking and cleaning for them free of charge. You might be thinking, “Girl, stand up,” but the reality is that groupies were willing to do whatever it took to keep the party going. While often viewed as sex-hungry young fame vultures by outsiders, the reality is that groupies existed as sources of encouragement and inspiration for fans and musicians. Above all else, they were there for the love of the music. 

The groupie lifestyle was a product of its time. Today, the barrier between artist and fan is more present than ever. Concerts are expensive, artists are exclusive, and the relationship between the two rarely ever crosses the line drawn between musician and admirer. Boundaries once nonexistent are now strictly enforced. Today, Connie Hamzy could never wander backstage at a Steppenwolf show like she did in 1970. Cynthia “Plaster Caster” could never do… whatever she was doing.

It’s important to note that groupies were often mistreated and underappreciated by the very bands they toured with. While the lifestyle was and still is perceived as “glamorous,” behind-the-scenes groupies often were groomed and abused. Many artists chose to exploit young women with a love for music for personal gain; groupies such as Nancy Spungen experienced the worst of this mistreatment. The wrongfulness of this is clear to most people now– after all, we are looking through a modern lens– but at the time, many of the women participating in the groupie lifestyle weren’t able to fully conceptualize their own mistreatment. The common perception of the groupie lifestyle as one of glitz, fun, and excitement oftentimes didn’t reflect the true goings-on of groupies. While a lot of the behavior perpetrated against groupies was predatory and harmful, the lifestyle did have its upsides– groupies existed in a sort of bubble where music consumed their lives. They were able to fully immerse themselves in the art that surrounded them, for better or worse.

Here at Together Outrageously, we are certified groupies. Parasocial internet groupies, but groupies all the same. Here are some staff testimonials about our experiences as groupies over the years:

Grace's Testimonial:

The first person I was a groupie for was Ryan Ross of Panic! At the Disco. This was a long Tolstoy-esque love and devotion I had for this man. I once waited five hours to see him perform live for about three minutes when I was 16 years old. I was a part of “Ryan Ross Stan Twitter” which was made up of about 15 other people, who were dedicated to this phantom of the mid-2000s emo scene. For someone who kept such a lowkey internet presence, his acolytes were steadfast. Truly, it was a religion: I kept a locket with his MySpace photos in them around my neck and he lined the walls of my room from the ages 12 to 18 like an altar. To this day, no matter how long it’s been since I’ve listened to his songs I still remember every word; he’s forever a part of me. 

The aforementioned locket.

I’ll steal a term from friend of the blog Stephen Wesolowski when I describe myself as the “groupies groupie.” Reading Pamela des Barres’s memoir “I’m With the Band: Confessions of a Groupie” was absolutely transformative for me. Every night I would rush into bed because I knew that meant it was time to pick up the book. Her words invaded my dreams; she was at the Flying Burrito Brothers’ “Burrito Manor” and I was beside her while we listened to Gram Parsons sing. But more than her endless Sunset Strip knowledge and juicy stories about her Whiskey a Go Go conquests, the best thing about the memoir is how Miss Pamela captures the feelings us groupies get at a show or when listening to the bands we love so much. I use her phrases at every show, telling my friends “my solar plexus has opened.”  Learning about the GTOs (our namesake, “Girls Together Outrageously”) became a religion, a new way of living. They gave me the courage to be “outrageous” and challenge my inhibitions. It is inherent for me to be a groupie, but it's also me trying to carry on their legacy. 

Here I am attempting to channel the spirit of Gram Parsons at the Troubadour beside my good friend Charlie Deitchman.

I love watching crowds at shows: girls fawning over their favorite members, a mosh pit possessed by the music, or someone with their arms crossed, too shy to dance but so wanting to. I love them so much because they have this unabashed love flowing through them like an excitable inner child. Their radiance fills up the space so their light coats our darkness and blends with the stage lights. It’s my dream to one day capture it. 

Roxie's Testimonial:

It truly saddens me that the term "groupie" has become so stigmatized. It’s a word that has been completely redefined by society, limiting women from being their most genuine selves and depicting them as sluts or messy or hysterical. It hurts so much because, at my core, I feel that I myself am a groupie. I want to take back the word “groupie” and redefine it for what it truly is, a devotion to music. 

At the risk of sounding inappropriate, my parasocial groupie-isms began at a very young age. I can't remember a time before music and the musicians behind said music consumed my life. My first musical obsession was Michael Jackson. In 2011, when I was 6-years-old, my parents bought a Michael Jackson picture book. Then, I learned that the pop star's birthday was only one day before mine. As a young girl who had been raised on "Thriller" and "The Way You Make Me Feel," my brain shouted, "Fate!" and from then on, I felt a connection to Michael. Soon after, my parents gifted me a nightgown adorned with the phrase "I miss Michael" in big black lettering on the front that I would try and wear as much as humanly possible. I can't say how long this obsession lasted (it was at least two years, as a YouTube video of me singing "Man in the Mirror" in 2013 is still up on a channel I will not disclose), but this marked the beginning of my music obsession. 

My favorite nightgown of many years.

Every year after I first discovered Michael and further unveiled the level of obsession I could hold, I fell deeper and deeper in love with everything music. It consumes me. It consumes my life unlike anything else. I can't tell you how many times I've left a concert in tears being overwhelmed after witnessing a piece of music in a live setting. After seeing the sweat roll down the musician's face, hearing the whisper of breath in between lyrics, and feeling the vibrations of each note shake the ground below me. There is just something about those special moments that creates a feeling within me beyond words.

A small corner of my poster-covered bedroom. Posters from music magazines, records and printed images from Pinterest litter my walls and ceiling. (Peep the Penny Lane feature at the top)

I don't know if I've ever felt more seen than when I watched Almost Famous for the first time. When Sapphire, one of the groupies played by Fairuza Balk, says, "They don't even know what it is to be a fan… To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts." 

Groupies cannot be reduced to out-of-control women following musicians around for sex because that's not what we are. Groupies are here for the music; we are inspired by it and want to connect to it more than anything. It’s time to leave the tired, sexist definition of groupie in the past and find it within yourself to connect to your inner groupie. 

Sean's Testimonial:

As an angry opinionated homosexual, ‘90s alternative rock is a genre that has had a big impact on my life. In particular, the women that dominated the genre have cemented themselves as my personal idols. From Alanis Morissette to Hole, my upbringing has been consistently narrated by fiercely assertive women who have a unique perspective on life and what it means to be authentic. I vividly remember being 13 and talking to 40-year-old strangers in chat rooms about my favorite artists– nobody in my life shared the same music taste as me, which led to me seeking out connection on the internet. Surprisingly, there was a shortage of kids my age who were willing to talk to me about Courtney Love. Growing up in the South meant that it was hard for me to relate to a lot of the people in my life. I felt misunderstood, alone, and above all else, angry. Songs like “Awful” by Hole and “Seether” by Veruca Salt allowed me to truly revel in my unbridled teenage angst. The harder life got for me, the more I relied on my favorite artists to validate my frustration with the world. 

My friend Ruby and I about to see Lucy Dacus. Peep the eyeliner... I was not playing around.

While I’m in a better place now, the love I have for my favorite rock stars will stay with me no matter what. The women I grew up listening to taught me that it’s okay to be angry with the world. As Alanis Morissette said, “Anger itself is such a powerful, beautiful emotion that can move worlds, it can set boundaries, it can help us show up, it can help us vote, it can help us not tolerate certain circumstances anymore.