All Good Rockers Thank Their Moms

Every year when I watch the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's new inductees deliver their acceptance speeches, I'm moved to hear the titans of the music business thank their mothers. Just last week it was new Rock Hall of Fame member Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers who got me all choked up when he gave an emotional shout-out to his mom. So, like the rockers who inspire me, I thank my mom for allowing me to develop my rock persona. On this Mother's Day, I thank her for all the things she never did.

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Motor City Mavericks: The Pleasure Seekers and Suzi Quatro

When a group of sisters got together in the early '60s to come up with a name for their rock and roll band, they turned to that greatest of reference guides -- the dictionary. Leafing through the large tome, they came across the word "hedonist." Definition: a pleasure seeker. Bingo! Formed in Grosse Pointe, Michigan, in 1964 by 17-year-old Patti Quatro, The Pleasure Seekers were born of Beatlemania and bred on Detroit muscle. They paid their dues in clubs and music festivals across the U.S., opened for a slew of big name rock stars, and became one of the first all-female bands to be signed by a major record label. But their biggest contribution to the world of rock came in the form of a 5-foot firecracker named Suzi Quatro.

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Goldie and the Gingerbreads: Rock’s First All-Female Guitar Band

They didn't ride motorcycles through the halls of L.A.'s legendary Hyatt House, pay hotel doormen to smuggle hot groupies into their rooms, or smash pricey guitars to smithereens during performances. In fact, they didn't pull any of the typical stunts made famous by the male rock pioneers of the 1960s and '70s. Yet, they were trailblazers nonetheless. I'm talking about the mostly forgotten women of the early electric bands, who proved you didn't need testosterone to have talent. They wielded Strats, hammered Ludwigs, went on tour, signed record deals…and then just faded into footnotes. Now maybe, had they become obscenely rich, spoiled rotten by record executives, and bored shitless from endless touring, they might have developed the rock star habit of tossing TVs out of hotel windows. Maybe. But we'll never know. Here's the first in a series of articles showcasing the electric girl groups you've probably never heard of.

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Are Ya Ready, Boots? Start Talkin’!

White boot, black boot, thigh boot, jack boot. I'll endure the snow, slush, and sub-freezing temperatures of Pittsburgh for the rest of my life, as long as I can wear my pavement-pounding, cockroach-killing, arch-destroying boots. It's the thrill of fashion…and the Agony of De Feet. But I'm still standing. From whence do my sartorial obsessions spring? From rock-n-roll, where else! Forty-eight years ago this month Nancy Sinatra recorded her smash hit "These Boots are Made for Walkin." With it's slinky guitar strut and finger-pointing tough girl lyrics, it quickly became a favorite among my growing collection of 45s. What a way for a six-year-old to learn the fine art of insult and accusation!

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