So you’ve decided you’d like to try your hand at banging that hot greasy asshole who plays with his or her band at the club in your neighborhood. Great! It’s good to have goals. But with any goal, success takes focus, planning and self-discipline. And sometimes some math, there might be math involved. You can do math, right? Whatever, whatever, that’s not important right now. What IS important is setting yourself up for success, which is why we’re here.
Now, you may be thinking, “What makes you such an expert, VK? Why should I trust you with this most delicate of liaisons?” Well, I’ll tell you why. Have I bedded musicians the world over? No. I’m no Pattie Boyd. No, in fact my experience is much richer and more important than that, for I have spent years, YEARS I SAY, dwelling in the dark corners of dirty rock clubs or outside “guarding the gear” (I know, I mean what kind of a patsy am I?) late at night, watching men and women way more suited than I for affairs of the heart performing the intricate dance of the post-show hookup. I’m an OBSERVER, you see. Nay…. I am a veritable SCIENTIST.
Okay, okay, fuck you, yes, ok? Maybe I am a failure. Maybe I did stumble out of Kenny’s Castaways, dejected and foaming over with self-loathing more than once in my 20’s. FINE ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? I prefer sound engineers and lighting directors anyway, I’M THE STAR OF THIS SHOW, BUTTFACE. But they say that those who cannot do must TEACH.
I don’t want to see you make the same mistakes I made. If nothing else, we are here simply to prevent you from making a Foolio Iglesias out of yourself at last call this weekend. And so, without further ado, I bring you:
Bang That Trash!: A Scientific Guide For Getting Busy With Your Favorite Local Musician
Step One: Get Prepared
Identify your target. Planning on any sort of penetrative activity? Get condoms, you fucking dolt, what year even is this? Brush up on how to talk to a stranger in a sex-pos way about being safe. Make your bed. Hydrate. Eat dinner, do not go out drinking on an empty stomach. Arrange for a wingman or wingwoman to accompany you. Stick a toothbrush in your pocket just in case. If you plan on drinking, figure out in advance how you’ll be getting home. Don’t drive drunk!! Ugh, you’re so fucking new. You should know ALL of this by now. Just be an adult, already. Are we good? Fuck, ok let’s move on.
Step Two: Get Ready
Time to get ready to go out! Gonna take a bower, a wower or a lower? I enjoy a wower myself, nothing like some white wine with ice in the shower. No, I don’t have any cats, why do you ask?
But first! I want to make a quick note about what it means to “be hot.” If you haven’t figured it out by now, we humans in America are conditioned from birth to behave in certain ways. Schooling coaches us for compliance with bureaucracy and the 9-5 workplace, trucks for boys and barbies for girls reinforce gendered power dynamics and teach kids not to question the role they are supposed to play as a man or a woman (and pandrogynous, queer and transgender people don’t even get a fucking seat at this table, we’re really batting a thousand here). The conditioning extends to what we are supposed to find attractive, but everyone is so different and is attracted to such different things (which are often given the derogatory term “fetish” JUST TO MAKE SURE that we all feel ashamed of ourselves enough to hide what we really like and to stay compliant to the rules of our puritanical society) that literally everyone is hot, at certain times, to certain people. You’re fucking hot as shit right now. I want to fuck the shit out of you because you're wasting time with me on the Internet. Ya feel me?
My point is that, at a rock show, you’re always hot. Let that freak flag fly. As long as you are comfortable with yourself and keep that open heart and open mind functional, you’re basically a megababe. Yes, you’re a megababe who is 350 pounds. Yes, you’re a megababe with a port wine birthmark on your face. Yes, you’re a megababe with a bald spot and a wooden leg. But hey if you want to put on those false lashes and a push up bra, you’re also a megababe. Someone digs you. You know it. You’re comfy. YOU dig you. That’s hot.
Anyway, so get your charisma ready, put on your favorite Queen t-shirt and fucking get your ass in gear… because shit is about to go DOWN. Here's a song to get you in the right mood:
Step Three: Attend The Show
OK so if you’re early and you get a chance to do a drive by on your target, that’s probably a good thing, but proceed with caution. Let’s say your target is Hørgan Firesticks, drummer of the incredible local punk band The Headless Whoresmen (h/t Dan Ingenthron for that one), whose show is at Geno's tonight. If Hørgan is outside smoking, approach. If Hørgan is carrying his kick drum in from a white 16 passenger van, he’s loading in. Leave him alone. Is he hunched over a sandwich with his bandmates at the bar? Hørgan is busy, stay back. NOBODY WANTS TO BE INTERRUPTED WHEN MAKING SWEET SWEET MOUTH LOVE TO A DELICIOUS SANDWICH. Is he soundchecking? Go away. Is he standing at the bar by himself, just sort of staring at the stage like his body is there but his mind is astral projecting to like, Spain or something? OK to approach. Hørgan is likely just thinking through the set, which will fucking go fine, relax already, Hørgan, you got this. The point is that Hørgan is working, this is his job. Having some consciousness for that goes a long way.
Ok so now it should be time to sit back, relax and enjoy a kickass rock show. I don’t know how much mileage you’ll get out of doing the front row locked eye contact sexy dancing thing, I think women tend to be more prone to this dance of seduction in a rock show setting but I have no hard data on how successful it is. Some find it ridiculous. Some find it sexy. Who the fuck knows. So the art of seduction for the next couple of hours is up to you, get creative or don’t. Hørgan can’t really see you anyway, if you’re making eye contact it might be accidental because he’s just trying to stare through the lights in a way that doesn’t make him look like Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys, so don’t read too much into it. Though this is a good time to size up the competition. Who else is being all moony in the front row? Maybe take them outside for a punch fight, is what I’m saying. No, come on, I don’t condone fighting. I do condone a campaign of misinformation though. “Geez, did you hear that Hørgan has a collection of live tarantulas that he lets RUN LOOSE in his apartment? Yeah! I KNOW! Wouldn’t want to go THERE any time soon!” Take out your competition one by one.
Step Four: Math!!
I haven’t announced it yet, but I’ve hired a Technical Advisor here at HTP Worldwide Headquarters because it is annoying how bad I am at describing what I’m hearing despite having spent the last 20 years of my life hanging around music being made three feet away from my face. So now instead of writing about it like we’re caught in an eternal loop of Blues Clues episodes, my Technical Advisor will also pick up the phone wherein I can say, “listen to this, is this a dobro?” Or, I can say, “you know those chords that that type of band plays and they sound like this,” and then make some dumb sound with my mouth like a toddler. It’s great, I love it. Anyway, because she’s a Technical Advisor and likes things to be Technical, she was like, FUCK ALL YOUR WORDS, YA DUMBASS, THIS WHOLE THING CAN BE DETERMINED WITH ONE SIMPLE EQUATION. To which I said, Oh really, fool, really? And then she produced this:
Brooke’s Theory of General Fuckitivity:
Yes, that’s right. Take the blood alcohol content of the musician in question (meh, make an educated guess), multiply it by 10, add it to your overall charisma level (self rated) and then divide that by the square root of the musician’s talent and looks ratings multiplied by the number of people at the show (popularity index). That will give you the percentage of probability that you will fuck that musician tonight. Yes, it works.
Step Five: ACTION HOUR
If the results of our math are looking good, then it’s time for you to spring into high gear. You have precious few minutes of actionable time, use them well. Your window will open, like a rip in the time-space continuum, between when the band gets off stage and when they begin to load out their gear. Approach too soon after the final note has been played, and you’ll destroy your chances. Sweat! Thirst! They all take precedence over you. Once load out has started, you’re too late, it’s business time. There may be a crowd of people to fight through. There may be other suitors if you failed to run them all off earlier. Shit, there may be a significant other you weren’t planning on and then, jesus, man, have some respect at that point and back off. I mean unless you’re trying to get some freaky situation going with the musician and her significant other? I don’t know what you’re into, what the fuck. Ideally, your best work (and like, I do NOT know what that is, you’re in the wrong place if you’re looking for “come hither” tips, that isn’t my wheelhouse) happens in this tiny window. Compliment him or her on the show. Say something about his or her performance that you found interesting or cool and mean it. If you paid no attention to the show you’ll be a dick forever. Dont be a dick, be a cool guy.
At this point, you have two choices. You can ask this musician what he or she is doing after the show and be blunt about it, or you can be coy and coax them into asking you what you’re doing. The latter takes some real skill and could go horribly wrong, especially if you are a woman trying to pull this move off on a man. Fellas, take a break. Ladies, listen up: now is not the time for subtlety and nuance. Save that shit for your Twilight saga rewatch tomorrow while you nurse your hangover. Not only that, but I mean, look, you’re not here for a relationship, right. I mean... you knew that from the beginning. This musician, once you fuck him, I mean… you’re not dating. No matter how nice he is. No matter how nice YOU are. No matter if he had a girlfriend for 4 years and sings a bunch of songs about feeling lovelorn or some shit. “But didn’t Dave Matthews marry a groupie?” Dude, SHUT THE FUCK UP and get the fuck out of here with that, sure, maybe that happened, but Dave Matthews also dumped 800 pounds of raw poops on a boat full of people on a tour, and 800 pounds of raw poops is the emotional equivalent of what you’re gonna get if you go into this thinking there’s more after p in v and maybe coffee tomorrow happens. This is territory that is NOT FOR THE MEEK and you need to be ready, girl. GET IT? So, be bold, be brave, have a blast, but don’t be deluded.
And that should be it folks. I mean I would hope you’d know what to do once the door is closed and the Luther Vandross is on the radio. How did it go? Did you get the hot, raw nookie you were craving? Did you get to see the inside of that musician’s apartment (I bet it was either like, American Psycho clean or completely disgusting. There’s no real middle ground with these creative types).
If it didn’t go well, get yourself to the nearest whiteboard and carefully review where things went wrong. Here are some tips to consider for next time:
What member of the band did you go for? A lead singer or guitar player is always a tougher mark than a drummer or bass player, but daammmmmmmn y’all, the rhythm section is where you want to be at if you get my drift. Eh? EH? So if the lead singer is surrounded by dummies who think that’s where it’s at, consider your friendly bass player hanging around like a fucking loser all by himself over there.
Did you try to talk about politics or something? Subject matter counts! Don’t be complex when you have limited time and your endgame is just naked time. There’s honor in knowing what you want, don’t slather that sweet cake in too much frosting, ya dig?
Did you already know him or her fairly well before embarking on this crazy affair? Is it possible this person would rather get to know your mind before getting to know what your armpit smells like? Though actual respect and viewing you as more than a body made for reckless fun can feel crappy in the short term, it’s actually a huge compliment. You DIDN’T get objectified, hooray! I know, you were going for objectification, I get it. You know, win some, lose some, whatever.
Whatever, whomever and wherever you choose to love, be safe, be compassionate and listen to good music while you get your fuck on! The new D'Angelo record is amazing. Prince is always a good standby too. Don't say I never gave ya nothing.