My Friend Bonnie McKee at 21

Hi Bonnie! We’ve been close for many years now, and I’m excited about your new album Hot City and the latest single, "Forever 21." We started collaborating 20 years ago on art projects. Let’s talk about these photos from when you were actually 21 years old, which were once “locked away, never to see the light of day,” as you would say. It's a head trip to share these photos with the public now.

Setting the scene, this is 2005, one year after your first music video "Somebody" was shot. Can you tell us about your career at that point and describe the house party in these photos?

Well, throughout my career, I've had terrible experiences with record labels. I was signed to Warner Bros. and had gotten this big record deal when I was a teenager. I wrote all the songs myself, but I really didn't know much about songwriting, so they are not my best songs. However, people were very taken with my song "Somebody." So, that came out, and we made a music video shortly before these pictures were taken. There really was no plan for a second single at the time. I was heartbroken and downtrodden, so I turned to drinking and was really partying my life away, because I felt like I was being held hostage by the record label. I spent my days drinking, hanging out with my friends and partying during the height of indie sleaze culture. I was just passing the time, and taking these pictures with you was something I didn't want anybody to see because I was ashamed of where I was at that time.

It was the best of times, the worst of times. These photos have never really seen the light of day until now. Can you describe your home back then? You were 21, renting a place in Hollywood. What was the role of this house in your life at that time? What do you remember from that time?

Well, I mean, the truth is, Job... that I was forced to move out of my other apartment for pretty dark reasons. Before I lived in this house, I was living in a shitty apartment on Camino Palmero, just at the foot of Runyon Canyon. That was my first apartment ever in LA. In my first apartment, I was really lonely living in LA.

When I first moved in, I was actually raped by a man in my building. Then I moved to New York and I was gone for a year but kept the apartment. When I came back, a new guy had moved into the apartment across from me, and we ended up dating. But the other guy was still living in the building. I had told my boyfriend what had happened, and he stupidly confronted the guy even though I told him not to. Then the guy slashed my tires in the parking lot. The landlady did not believe me when I went to her. He came to my door and threatened me, so we were forced to move out.

That's terribly upsetting and not easy to talk about. I’m sorry you had to experience that alone.

That's something I could only share with you in an interview. So, I found this house just driving around and saw a "for rent" sign. I felt that I never wanted to live in apartments again because of my experience. I moved in with my boyfriend, but we had nothing in common except sharing a living space. We ended up breaking up, but I kept the house.

I started taking some night classes at UCLA because I was bored and wanted to meet some people my age. I took pass/fail classes, just passing time. That's where I met Miriam, who was a SuicideGirl. She had a whole group of friends and happened to live two blocks away from my new house. We became fast friends, started hanging out and I began throwing barbecues. I've always been famous for my barbecues. People would come over and we would just drink every day.

The house was kind of a wreck, but it was my first little house. I remember getting my first Christmas tree there. I didn't have any ornaments, so I hung keychains and Polaroid pictures. I was scrapping together my first pieces of furniture. I don't even remember where I got those white sofas and horrible beige leather couches. But I still have some pieces from that house, like the egg chair I had recovered and a kidney-shaped table from the '50s. I got some of my first vintage furniture pieces while living in that house, and they're still with me today, 20 years later.

That’s crazy! Yes that egg chair has hidden speakers installed behind the fabric and still sits in your living room today in the Hollywood Hills.

You have always built your world within your home. Much like the polymath artist you are across music and visuals, the home is not only where you live, but it's also your music studio, a space for video shoots, an arts and crafts area and a showroom for your furniture, collectibles and art objects. Your home is a portal to another dimension of creative expression.

It's a place where people gather, and I've always been a hostess to the most. Another great thing about that house was that it was one block off Melrose, and from a thrift store called Wasteland. I would go there almost every day to get first pick of the new vintage items. Actually, that's where I met Katy Perry, one block away from that house.

So your collaboration with Katy Perry was not an industry plant friendship!

I met Katy Perry out in the wild. We were both broke artists because I was running out of money. My deal was falling apart, and she had just been dropped or was about to be dropped. We were selling our clothes at Wasteland, and she recognized me because I was like a hometown hero and an industry darling. She was like, "Oh, you're Bonnie McKee," and I was amazed to be recognized.

I loved that she was my age and also in the industry. At the time, they were running ads for "Somebody" on YouTube and MySpace, and yet I was in a kind of an unruly crowd — a lot of skateboarders and SuicideGirls. Everyone was cool and indie sleaze, and I was making pop music. So, it was a relief to meet another girl in the same world I was in. I invited her that day to a barbecue I was having that evening, and she came over and we became fast friends.

I remember that barbecue in 2005. We put out picnic blankets in the backyard. You had a hammock, and anytime people got in the hammock, they ended up making out!

Let’s talk about the photo shoot we did on your kitchen floor. I was obsessed with the scenography of photographer David LaChapelle as a teenager, and you were clearly someone who could live in his world. There is a great one with Gregory Alexander and Loren Granich, founders of the legendary party “A Club Called Rhonda.”

Yeah! Me and all of my misfit friends ran Cahuenga Boulevard, where we all used to hang. This was back before it was gentrified — Urban Outfitters was not there. It was just a bunch of divey bars, smoke shops and stripper stores. We would go to Beauty Bar, Burgundy Room and Star Shoes. I remember seeing DJ AM play at Cinespace there, and it was like I'd never seen a DJ go off like that. The whole building was shaking with people jumping up and down. It was so much fun.

I would get photographed by the paparazzi randomly. Cobrasnake definitely has many incriminating photos of me from this time. Look those up!

Loren and Gregory were over at the house, and honestly, when we took this picture, I had no idea who they were. They just ended up at the house. They were beautiful and fabulous. We got on the floor and rolled around, just being our sleazy selves. Those pictures are so iconic, and everyone in them went on to do great things. I love that we have that moment.

The next portrait is the living room photo with Marilyn Monroe and your head down on the couch. What is that feeling? What do you see when looking at this photograph?

That picture is so beautiful, and it's so sad. I really spent my days in my underwear, sitting at the piano, trying desperately to write something new. People would come and go, stopping by unannounced because they were on Melrose. You never knew who would show up at the door.

I was in a cycle of drinking that was probably the most intense of my life. I had a system going on: I would wake up and put on MTV or whatever, I would drink an entire bottle of Evian water, take two Advil, pass out, and then wake up and do it all over again. That picture is a lazy summer day of me feeling like a failure.

It’s also a portrait of you daydreaming about an unwritten future. Who would have known that you would get sober and have a successful music career in the following years?

At the time, I didn't understand that a first record deal is just a dress rehearsal, a rite of passage. I thought if I got dropped, all my dreams would be crushed. The future was uncertain, and I wasn't sure how I'd keep paying rent.

But I believed in myself. Facing my fears, I kept writing to get better. I began to understand what a pop hook is. I wrote "Mine," played it for my new boyfriend, and he said, "This is a hit." That experience gave me new hope, realizing maybe I could do this on my own.

One of my favorite pictures is of your bedroom, titled “Appetite for Destruction,” named after Guns N’ Roses. I describe it as having everything you need to perform femininity — wigs, high heels, tulle and clothing racks. A special detail is the stack of pills on your wardrobe. Can you talk about how you express your identity through your bedroom?

Yes, so I've always been a themed party girl. I love playing dress-up and different characters. Halloween is my favorite holiday. My room was full of costumes and beautiful objects that tell a story.

At the time, I was struggling with addiction and wanted to escape. I was doctor shopping to get prescriptions. I glamorized being a hot mess, inspired by Valley of the Dolls. The damsel in distress in me took years to realize no one would save me, and I had to care about my own career. No one saw it except for you, Job. You captured it all.

This final image is special because the original documents don't exist anymore. The images are with your closed diary and next to marketing data with pie charts and sentiment scales.

What a mind fuck. The fact that my highest ranking attribute was sex appeal is kind of gross. I'm not sure where that “sex appeal” metric was coming from because most of my fans at the time were girls my age. Who did they poll for these metrics? I don't really know. It says more about who made the chart than who my audience was.

I loved feeling sexy and fancied myself a dangerous “Lolita.” My first album is about a relationship I had with a 30-year-old man when I was 14. These were the first songs I wrote after my first heartbreak. It's funny to see how the label executives saw me and how they planned to capitalize on my “appeal.”

So, it's funny that “lifestyle appeal” and “role model factor” take up so much of the pie. This chart compares me to Avril Lavigne and Britney Spears. It's funny because 15 to 20 years later, I worked with both Britney Spears and Avril Lavigne. I wonder if they also got a print out of a pie chart. [Laughs]

Most people who are 21 are just beginning their lives, building independence, overcoming challenges and creating community. But here you are at 21, you are doing it under the scrutiny of executives. That kind of pressure really affects one’s mental health during a vulnerable coming-of-age time period.

A big part of this spiral for me was because at the time in the industry, if you weren't a teenager, you were over, you were done, washed up. That's exactly what I was feeling when I was face-down on the couch — I was over, I was washed up, I was already past my prime. I remember I cried when I turned 18. I was devastated because I was no longer a little Lolita, because I had been conditioned to think and that that was my whole selling point. At that time, I thought if you were under 21, you were in, but if you were over 21, you were not.

I remember there was a song at the time on the dance floor. The lyric was like, “They only want you when you're 17, when you’re 21, you're no fun.”

“Seventeen” by Ladytron. It came out in 2002, which was the year you turned 18!

So it wasn’t just me that felt that way! When I finally got back on my feet and found my confidence in writing new songs, I was like, Fuck all y'all. I started creating again and learning how to craft a song properly. That's when I got my first publishing deal and started writing for other artists. Things started looking up.

Has the music industry changed in the last 20 years?

Yes, it’s a whole new world. Artists no longer need a label or a corporate machine behind them to reach their audience. The music industry has been democratized by social media, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s beautiful because creators have autonomy and can maintain creative control, but there is now so much more competition because the market is flooded with so many artists competing for eyeballs. Now artists are expected to also be influencers and are forced to play the content game, or perish. There is still plenty of sexism, ageism, exploitation and corruption, but I do think that the #MeToo movement and the risk of suits being canceled for exploiting artists has forced labels to play a little more fair.

Your new single "Forever 21" talks about partying too much and the desire to live and party to infinity. We have these precious images that give us a glimpse into what inspired the song, and we literally have pictures of your own experience at 21. What inspired the song and how does it relate to your experiences?

When I was writing this song, I finally had some hits under my belt and things were okay. I suddenly had something to lose. Before, I had nothing to lose — so the stakes were higher now. I had already messed up the first album cycle and my first label deal, and I didn't want to do that again.

The song was me coming to terms with the fact that I probably needed to end the party. My whole identity had been being a hot mess, alcoholic party girl. I was learning how to find a new identity while also celebrating my last hurrah.

As I went later into my 20s, I was still behaving like a 21-year-old. I thought, Whatever, fuck it. I'm gonna do this till the day I die. I'm gonna be that old bitch in the club, still drinking and doing lines, like at Studio 54. The party's never going to stop. But this song is a bittersweet goodbye to that dream and realizing that there was more to me. I needed to be reborn. "Forever 21" is about going back to those days when I thought I was free, carefree and invincible, but with a wink and a smile. I think you can hear the nostalgia in the song.

What I realized was that getting obliterated every night, being blackout drunk and putting myself in dangerous situations didn't make me free or carefree. I had invited chaos into my life.

Today you are 12 years sober. The Fourth of July parties you throw are now legendary, and the entire creative world of Los Angeles, from the ingénue to the next prodigy, come together at your celebrations. How have your views on living invincibly and being carefree changed since then?

Today, I’m still the hostess with the mostest. I’m still the life of the party. I love bringing people together and into my world. Whether they drink or not, I love providing a safe place where people can meet other creative people and lift each other up. It makes me so happy when I hear stories like, "Oh, I met my girlfriend at your party," or "I met my collaborator, and we just had a song come out." I love connecting people, and that brings me a lot of joy. I think that spills into my music too, seeing people connect through my music. I just want to bring everybody together.

I'm so much more free today. I'm so much more present, creative, responsible and connected to the higher source of power that gives me inspiration. I was so afraid when I got sober that I was going to be boring and that I wouldn't be able to create. But it was, in fact, just the opposite.

What message do you hope people take away from revealing this previously forbidden photo series and your new single “Forever 21”?

I think a message throughout my music from day one has always been perseverance: when you fall down, you get back up. This is just a snapshot of the first time I fell down. But I got back up, and I fell again, and I got back up. Whether I like it or not, I've become kind of a poster child for perseverance, and I'm happy to be that.

Photography: Job Piston, Artist and Curator