As I’ve stated easily a hundred times, I am a music snob. I actually think I have the best taste in music, although I’m constantly told that taste, in all its forms, is subjective. I don’t know what that means.
I don’t think I’m as obnoxious as one of those foodies, because those are the types who, when they get on some stupid spiel about food, the intricate spices and the like, I immediately think: Fuck me gently with a chainsaw and shut the fuck up. Come to think of it, maybe I evoke the same sentiment when I go on and on about Constellation Records, how Sub Pop has gone “so mainstream,” and how amazing is that new Youth Lagoon album? (Actually, seriously. How amazing is it? It just came out yesterday and I can’t stop listening to it.)
Long before I became a DJ at WUNH in college, I was obsessed with music. OBSESSED. Being at WUNH for 4.5 years (yes, I fucked up a semester and was there longer than planned; it’s called breaking up with your first love and Beverly Hills, 90210 on repeat), around all those equally obsessed music snobs gave me a home amongst my own — the type who scoffed at the mere thought of any artist who was on commercial radio. Such assholes we were! But that’s what being 21 is all about; I think.
As one who lives for music, and would die for it, I’ve long had a list of songs to which I’ve wanted to have sex; and the list continues to grow. Is that weird? They just seem like fuckable songs. However, I’m starting to realize you just can’t jump out of bed while yelling, “I want to come to Arab Strap’s ‘The Clearing!’ Hang on — I’ll be right back.” Especially when in addition to being a band from Glasgow, an Arab strap looks like this.
So here’s my love letter to all the songs I’d love to fuck to, but thanks to people, places and that “taste is subjective” thing, probably never will. Yeah, I’m heartbroken, too, you guys. (And don’t worry, a few of those I mention are very mainstream, so you can see I’m not all bad.)
Dear songs I’ve wanted to have sex to, but probably never will:
Let me first tell you that I love you. I love you more than for which I’ve found the words. I don’t mean “love” in the way that I love a proper martini or goat cheese smeared on a warm baguette. I mean “love” in a way that is all-consuming and eternal. I’d give up almost everything to make sure you never leave my life. I need you; without you, I am nothing.
I had long hoped that I’d lose my virginity to “Today,” by Smashing Pumpkins, but it never happened. I will not mention the song to which I did lose it, because I’ve mentioned it twice, and TheGloss readers called me out on it for having to hear it TWICE. Besides, how hot is “Today?” So hot! And it has ice cream in the video.
When that didn’t work out as planned, I didn’t give up. I next hoped for “I Wanna Be Adored” by The Stone Roses or “Talk Show Host” by Radiohead. Again, it never happened and I spent the majority of my early sex years fucking to the background noise of Phish (yes, NOISE), or whatever hippy shit my first boyfriend was crushing on that week. It was sad, but so was the sex at that point — as most forays into sex are — so I made do.
College brought me into a whole new world of music, and that genre was called “shoegazing.” My Bloody Valentine, anyone? Since the high school boyfriend and I had broken up, and I was spending so much time at WUNH, I knew eventually Slowdive’s “When the Sun Hits” would be playing and we could have sex in the radio station! Yes, that’s what would happen! No. It never did.
My first love, Timothy, and I were on the exact same page musically. I had also, by this point, fallen in love with “post-rock,” and knew that finally some Arab Strap, Mogwai or, ideally, “Moya” by Godspeed You! Black Emperor could be on while we were messing around in his artist’s loft in Boston. But there was a shit ton of Magnetic Fields, Tristeza and Cat Power being played in those days, so no such luck. Then we broke up and instead of having sex to “Moya,” I was crying to it under my covers.
But the list continued to grow, I moved to New York City, dated a bunch of guys not worth mentioning and had one-night stands that usually didn’t have background music. I added “Lover’s Spit” by Broken Social Scene, “Rubber” by Yuck, a whole slew of songs by The Antlers (although that one’s hard these days for memory association reasons) and the majority of Mogwai’s most recent full-length, Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will, but still: nothing.
I realize my sex days are not over just yet, my beloved sex songs. I realize there might be time to have sex to you and the 500+ others of which I’ve loved and deemed fuck-worthy, but also I think it’s unlikely. Am I sad? Yes. Will I cry? No. I’ll just do the next best thing: masturbate to them. Although, let’s be honest, masturbation isn’t quite the same… and I’ve labeled you “sex” songs, not “double-clicking my mouse” songs. So, on second thought, no. I will not be masturbating to my sex songs. xo.
OK. Who else has a list and who wants to share it?