Remember the Go-Go's? They are, to be sure, one of the best 80s pop bands, but they stand out particularly because they were an all-girl band. It didn't happen often back then that all-girl rock-pop bands were allowed to shine, tour, have wild groupie sex and, in the ensuing wildness, make a lot of money. Rock, at least in the 80s, was very much a man's world. Then came the Go-Go's, Bananarama, and so forth.
That's why I am fascinated by Belinda Carlisle's autobiography -- celebrity tell-alls are my kryptonite -- which is being read alongside Eliot's Silas Marner so far this summer. The book has some shocking details. For example, at one point before making it, Carlisle and the band mates secretaried for Marshall Berle -- Uncle Miltie's nephew -- who managed bands like Van Halen and RATT. They answered phones high on LSD and, apparently, Marshall Berle, Hollywood jaded, didn't mind. At the august age of 51, though, Carlisle reveals something even more disturbing. From Lips Unsealed.:
"The office was above a witchcraft store on La Cienga Boulevard, which we frequented, as we did a similar shop on Santa Monica Boulevard. I built a small altar in my room at (the infamous punk flophouse) Disgraceland. Even though (pal) Pleasant (Gehman) and I had serious boyfriends, we would cast spells on boys we liked. We would put a small amount of our period blood in a vial and surreptitiously drop it into the drink of whichever boys we were crushing on that night. It was something we had read in a book, and every time we did it, I laughed hysterically, thinking, If only they knew."