Rita Rae Roxx
Arbor Oak Books
This is a groupie’s tale – or tales. Rita Rae Roxx is very proud of bedding a few icons and opening acts-of-icons from the 1980s. The big conquest – the peak for her – was David Lee Roth. She got that scalp and then went back for more and was laughed off.
Her book shows a complete lack of awareness – she desperately tries to paint herself as in it for the music and yet hasn’t a thing to say about the music. Some of the acts she chased she hadn’t heard. She was just a young girl running from her family and keen to flash her tits. She’ll tell you that – or most of that – if you read this book.
She’ll also tell you she got what she wanted – sex; that’s all it ever is, or was, that’s all she had to offer and all she was ever seeking – but then she’ll tell you, in true empty-gesture style about the “connections” made. These would be the kinds of connections that have her removed from the backstage area when certain bands return; connections that see tour managers refusing to tell certain stars that she was in the audience because they had moved on, had girlfriends or wives and/or other groupies.
But this stuff is (rather morbidly) fascinating. I’m really not sure why. But these sorts of tales are a part of the rock’n’roll story.
It’s appalling and soulless and shameful and sad – from both the point of the groupie and the rock star. It’s a vacuum of spiritual intent.
Strangely that makes it all an engrossing (if gross) story. It’s not so much engaging as easy. I imagine you could describe the author in that way too. Stick around for more and she’ll probably play that herself.
Rita Rae Roxx has no real ability as a writer – her book is a brain-dump of all the times she dropped her knickers. She refers, constantly, to the time and care she took to look good – raves about how hot she looked and how she made her own outfits. What she doesn’t bother pointing out too often is that the real hook for many of the rock stars was that she was underage.
This troubled-but-won’t-admit-it teen was full of blow and empty of morals.
If it’s about slut-shaming in any way she is the one slut-shaming herself.
She talks about security guards and techs demanding blow jobs for access to the star. She talks down about them and their low standards. And hey, yeah, that’s fair enough. And then she’ll talk about how – by her own choice, to get the upper hand – she blew them anyway even though she didn’t want to.
It’s car crash stuff.
Worryingly this is subtitled Volume 1. Meaning, I guess, there’s more to come. Several of the stories here end with her announcing “but I got them back”, referring to both rival groupies and spurned lovers. So I guess we’ll find out about them in Volume 2 and/or 3.
More worryingly I’ll probably turn up to have another read…