I remember the moment it happened - the single spark that set my body aflame. Cecelia stood behind me on the Pilates reformer and pressed her legs into my back, her hands into my shoulders. The strength of her long, lean limbs drove me into submission. Her perfectly-highlighted blonde hair tickled the back of my neck. "Connect your pubic bone to your sternum. Hold it." Her voice was deep, throaty.
I'm not a big fan of rock memoirs they're the most predictable, name-droppy, sub-literature experiences. The Royal We certainly isn't name-droppy Bottum doesn't even use the surnames of his bandmates. And while he outlines the group's origins and early development, this takes a back seat to his youth escapades in San Francisco, before the internet, before that city got ruined.