Jane Wiedlin credits discovering David Bowie’s music when she was 14 as setting her on her course as a musician. “If I hadn’t found him as a kid, I don’t know that I would’ve ended up discovering the punk rock movement, which was totally populated by
ex-glitter-rocker kids,” she says. She attended his Diamond Dogs tour in 1974 and later opened for him as a member of the Go-Go’s on his Serious Moonlight Tour in 1983. Throughout her autobiography, TMI: Memoirs of a Go-Go, out Tuesday, she references the impact he had on her life. She says, “I can’t believe he’s dead because he really never seemed mortal to me.”
When he did die a decade ago, Wiedlin tells Rolling Stone she fell into a hole. “For a year after that, I didn’t listen to any music except Bowie — nothing,” she says. “Even after that year, I still felt heartbroken.”
At the time, his death coalesced with a number of other events that played into one of Wiedlin’s worst episodes of struggling with mental health, stories that lie at the core of TMI. Unlike many other books by famous musicians, this one never lingers long on Wiedlin’s musical victories, and even though she references her band’s name in the title, stories of the Go-Go’s make up less than half its contents.
Instead, she details her many rocky relationships, explains how the #MeToo movement changed her life, mourns the difficulties of albums like Cold (released with her band Frosted in 1996, during her sadly overlooked solo career), and restrains nothing about the time when she worked as what she calls a “junior dominatrix.” “Bi is best” is a philosophy she credits Bowie with teaching her. As a whole, the book is a self-portrait of not just Jane Wiedlin the musician, but Jane Wiedlin the person. “People just see me as a Go-Go,” she says. “They don’t know any differently. But if they read the book, they will discover I’m not just a Go-Go.”
Some of TMI can be difficult to read. She writes candidly about how she struggled with self-harm and suicidal ideation. But Wiedlin, 68, says she’s now in a better frame of mind. The book reads almost like a coming-of-age story about how she discovered who she was, a quality she hopes readers can relate to.
“I hope that reading my book will improve their lives in some way if they’re struggling with mental health stuff, if they’re secretly a kinkster, have been afraid to come out, or if they’re a young woman that wants to be in a band but is afraid,” Wiedlin says during a wide-ranging chat. “I think a lot of people could possibly benefit from reading it.”
Why was now the right time to write this book?
I’ve thought about writing a book a lot over the years, and I was too scared because I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I knew that with my personality, I wasn’t going to be able to hold back; I was going to want to tell the whole truth. But on my 65th birthday, I started thinking about it again, and I thought, “If you don’t do it now, you don’t know what’s coming.”
Well, I know what’s coming is death, but before death, who knows what kind of stuff’s going to happen as far as my health and being an old lady and blah, blah, blah. So I just decided to take a chance and go for it.
In the end, I feel like I found my balance between being “TMI,” the title of the book, and just not throwing people under the bus or blaming other people for my mistakes and my problems. And once I took all the responsibility and put it on myself, the book became very easy to write.
Since you titled it TMI, did you ever feel like you had to hold back?
I kind of barfed everything out, which is sort of how I always write. Writing the book was way easier than the editing … that was a bitch. A lot of people want to talk to me about the book, and honestly, it’s a little bit shocking.
Why are you shocked?
I’m thrilled. Look at my career, man. After the Go-Go’s broke up in ’85, I kept working and making music, but I didn’t really have a career. I wasn’t making money at it. I feel like I became relatively invisible for decades, and the only time that I wasn’t was when I was with my band, the Go-Go’s. So when so many people were interested in this book and interested in me, I found it shocking.
When the Go-Go’s formed, you almost called the band the Misfits. Then the Kinks put out the Misfits album. When did you finally learn there was a punk band called the Misfits?
Oh, my God, I didn’t hear them for ages after they got popular. They weren’t really on my radar because it wasn’t really my thing at the moment, but it is funny to think that we might’ve been the Misfits compared to what the actual Misfits ended up being.
Something that makes your memoir unusual is you don’t give a blow-by-blow story on the making of each of your albums, whether with the Go-Go’s or after. Why is that?
There’d already been three books by other Go-Gos, and I didn’t want to go over any of the territory that they’d already covered. Also, it’s a book about my life and my life is just so much bigger than just my band.
When you quit the Go-Go’s you said you’d rather be a failure on your own than a success with the band.
I did say that.
How do you feel about that now?
Oh, God. I was an idiot to think that. That was a big, dramatic statement to make, and I had no idea what the fuck I was talking about. And as it turns out, it has been consistently difficult trying to be a solo artist as opposed to being a Go-Go. But I love making music. I love writing songs, so I just carry on and have almost gotten to the point where I have stopped caring what people think and just do it for myself.
The solo albums you made after the Go-Go’s are more pop than rock. Why did you go in that direction?
I was very lost when I left the band. It was literally the only musical experience I’d ever had. I had no idea how to exist just on my own without having the support of bandmates.
Times were really different then. Record companies were super important. Now I don’t think it would matter if every record company folded today. Who gives a fuck, right?
Some of your songs then are great. I was listening to your first solo album today, and “Somebody’s Going to Get Into This House” strikes me as something St. Vincent might do now.
That’s very flattering. Thank you. Maybe I should re-listen to my old stuff. There was a lot of painful moments during those years and fun ones, too, but really no one to share the fun with. It was hard, I was still young, and I was very lost.
Who did you lean on then?
My first husband was already a music manager, so I think I leaned on him very heavily. He was my support system.
Did the other Go-Go’s tell you what they thought of your solo albums?
None of us really ever talk about our solo work with each other. [Guitarist] Charlotte [Caffey] and I have written a lot on my solo stuff, so that’s sort of an exception to that statement. You’ve got to assume that there’s a certain amount of sibling rivalry between us, even though it’s not correct to think that we were like sisters because we were more like a really dysfunctional marriage with five women in it.
It has been interesting how we keep getting back together and then parting again and getting back together. No matter how much or how little we’re getting along or not getting along, they are always going to be my sister wives.
One of the aspects of your personality you write about a lot in the book is being a people pleaser, even going back to your childhood. How do you break out of that?
I think over time, I’ve just realized the more bad stuff I go through, the bigger and the stronger I’ve become. And I’m so grateful for that, because I’ve been through some fucking shit that could have broken me.
I’ve really changed in the last couple of years. Writing the book is part of it because I examined my life — really examined it — and I wrote down my truth. It gave me more confidence.
You’re very open about your struggles with mental health. You felt suicidal from age 11 to 60. Did your family and friends know what you were going through?
Absolutely not. The only time that it finally came to a head was in ’96. My husband was out at a business thing, and I was sitting in the house just sawing away at my arm, and I had never really cut like that before. It was really bad. I have a really gnarly scar from it. When he came home, I couldn’t hide it. He saw it, and he lost his mind, and then he was like, “You have to get help.” And that was when my journey to mental health basically started.
It’s up and down. I still had another fucking suicide attempt after that, but at least it’s been more up than down. Even with all my frailties and fears, I feel I am a stronger person today than I’ve ever been, and I’m not going back.
People are always like, “Oh, the Go-Go’s, they’re role models.” I feel like a role model now. It took me my whole fucking life to get to this point.
Good, you should. How should people support loved ones going through the things you went through?
Parents need to support girl children. I think boy children get a ton of support. But it starts with making sure girl children know they can do anything and be anyone — the same things that they tell boys.
I think when girls hit puberty, it’s harder on them than boys. Parents need to be right there for them supporting them, because you go a little bit crazy when all those hormones change. Every girl does. It’s also encouraging girls to follow their bliss. If they like making art, support that. Help them do that. If they want to be a musician, get them instruments and lessons and play them music that you think will help them learn and grow.
It all seems kind of obvious to me, but first we had to have a crack in the system where we at least acknowledge the patriarchy, that things were not equitable, and that things need to change. I feel like we have acknowledged that even though we still meet resistance. I am very optimistic about the girls and women of the future.
You revisited the allegations of sexual misconduct you’ve made against Rodney Bingenheimer in the book. What struck me about what you wrote is you didn’t see what you describe as misconduct until the #MeToo movement. Why did it click then?
I started hearing other women’s stories, and a very common thread was how much guilt we all felt because we didn’t say anything or fight back and that somehow made it our fault. To me, that was the penny dropping. Like, “Oh, my God. I never thought of it that way.” I still thought of it like, “Oh, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have let him do that.” And now I’m like, “Jesus Christ, I was 15.” I had barely kissed a boy at that point. It was so not my fault, so I shouldn’t have any guilt feelings about it. And you know what? I feel so much better about it now. [Bingenheimer did not reply to a request for comment.]
I was a fan of Frosted, your pop-punk band in the Nineties. You wrote about them as if nobody heard that album, Cold.
Honestly, you’re a rare breed. There’s maybe 2,000 of you around the whole world, so you should feel special. I still love that record so much, and God, it was heartbreaking what happened with it. I don’t think I’ll really ever get over that, when you do something that you love so much and you believe in, and then it’s like, “Nope, next.”
One of your friends who worked for Frosted’s label, DGC, in the Nineties told you that the signing criteria for every artist they signed was, “Would Kim Gordon think this is cool?” Have you told Kim that anecdote?
No, I’ve never even met Kim, but I will definitely bring it up if I do, because I would be very surprised if she knew about that. I think she would love to know because it’s just so fucking ridiculous. I mean, it is so cringe.
Since you couldn’t promote Cold at the time, let’s talk about it. What’s the story behind that album?
I was full of ideas at the time and really turned on by the whole return of the punk movement. I couldn’t have been more happy the first time I heard Green Day on the radio.
Personally, I was struggling with my identity and my age because even back then, 100 years ago, I was starting to feel the pressure of aging. And I was mentally not in a good space. I was very depressed and I was cutting again and it was not a great time in my life, but always when I have those bad times, good songs come out of it, and that’s a consolation prize.
That Frosted album, and the one I made after it, Kissproof World, are very similar. Those are my favorite two albums I’ve ever made by far.
Of everything you’ve done?
Yep.
On those albums, you pair dark lyrics with poppy, upbeat music. Why did it come out that way?
I started doing that in the Go-Go’s when Charlotte and I became writing partners. It’s always been my favorite songwriting trick. I’m as depressed as the next guy, but I don’t really enjoy listening to music that is not only depressing musically but also lyrically. It’s just a bit too much for my brain.
By the way, I appreciated how on the audiobook, you sing all the lyrics a cappella.
Thank you. I had so many lyrics in the book that singing them a cappella was extremely scary. But I was like, “Fuck it, I’m doing this. I don’t fucking care.” Because why not? Otherwise I’d just speak them. Why not throw a little showbiz into it?
The album art for Kissproof World featured a lot of BDSM imagery, which, as you wrote in your book, you were living at the time. What are the most valuable life lessons you learned from being what you call a “junior dominatrix”?
Well, first of all, power goes to the one that grabs it. Men do not necessarily have all the power, and many men want to give away their power, and they don’t want to be the one with it, at least temporarily. Also that men are really weird. I could write a book about all the weird things that men want and just pay for. I’m not talking about sex; I’m talking about just weird shit. So the human brain is very interesting, and I think the BDSM movement and lifestyle are like opening the doors to human brains. A lot of people don’t get it, don’t like it, and are grossed out by it, but I think it’s part of the human experience and it’s just possibly processing the world differently than vanilla people do.
You wrote a musical about Bettie Page but never produced it. What is its status now?
I haven’t read that thing in 30 years or something. I have no idea if it’s any good or not. If I did want to do something with that, I would for sure want to do a major rewrite because I’m older and wiser now.
You wrote that you don’t see your BDSM work as sex. What is it, then?
I don’t know. It’s something in between. It’s a power exchange for sure, because the submissive is giving up their power to the dom. It is exciting, and it is a fulfillment of fantasies. It is very physical sensation-based but also can be very mental as well.
If you look at the definition of sex, I don’t think that it would qualify. It’s not fucking, it’s not blowjobs, it’s not hand jobs, it’s not anal. It’s none of those things, right? But again, just because I don’t think it’s sex doesn’t mean that my husband wouldn’t have been really pissed off if he knew what I was getting up to.
Your whole life story seems to be about recognizing what you want in your life and going after it.
Writing the book has changed my life for sure. Putting my thoughts down on paper and looking back, you’re like, “OK, so this led to this and that.” Until I wrote the book, I didn’t even make the connection that my first suicide attempt was shortly after I got molested by Rodney. I mean, that’s insane that I didn’t think of that. But after I wrote it all down, I was like, “Oh, my God, look at this.”
You have a solo album of cover songs called I Protest coming in the spring. What’s the state of the Go-Go’s now?
We’re definitely not together as a five-piece, but we’re not broken up either. Belinda [Carlisle] works so much. I don’t know how she does it. She’s playing all over the world for two years. Gina [Schock] and I have done some shows lately together working with a backing band, and it’s been really fun. But as far as doing these big high-profile concerts with the five of us, it’s not really in the cards, at least not for the next few years.
The Go-Go’s were the first all-female band to get a Number One album by writing their own songs. What do you think needs to happen for another band to achieve the same thing?
I have no fucking clue. It is such a miracle that the Go-Gos did what we did, and it is also very disappointing that it hasn’t happened again. I’m just going to hope that it will, it can, it has to happen again. But patriarchy still rules the world, and it definitely still rules the music business, so it’s not going to be easy. I hope someone goes for it and makes it.
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