By Jye Smith Sep.23.2008
In: Opinion, Recommended
1 comment

Fucking music

You bring a special stranger home from the pub and as you’re pouring them a drink, they wander over to your stereo and hit “play.” Good Charlotte blasts out, you get a punch in the face and end up watching your housemates’ porn before sleeping alone.

This all-too-common tragedy can be cleverly avoided by strategically stocking your bedroom with shag-happy tunes. Here are some suggestions for your Saturday night play-dates:

Queen of the Damned soundtrack, various
This is possibly the sexiest album ever released. Featuring  Chester Bennington (Linkin Park), Jay Gordon (Orgy), Disturbed, the Deftones, Godhead, Marilyn Manson, Papa Roach and Tricky, as well as some wicked writing from KoRn’s Jonathan Davis, it will satisfy your metal cravings while you satisfy your…erm…human flesh cravings. Especially fitting for those who like to nibble. (Inquire within.)

 

 

Saturday Night Wrist, The Deftones
For those who like it rough. Love her gently, then elbow her in the throat.


  

 

 

The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most, Dashboard Confessional
Hailed by many males as start-to-finish wee wee, your girl will like nothing better than a
Chris Carrabba bonk. If the melody fails, just say, “I totally relate to this song” (any song, they’re all the same) and you’ll score a pity-root. Warning: may cause people to fall in love with you.

 

 

Bohemia, Ils
This is the greatest breaks album mankind has ever had the privilege of listening to. The first time I heard it, I was comatose on the couch staring at a blank TV screen while people in my  backyard shouted “Happy new year!!” (marijuana may or may not have been involved) but it still registered as the most excellent beats I had heard in years. You can totally shonk to this if you’re not stoned out of your mind. For an energetic session. 

  

With Teeth, Nine Inch Nails
Nobody can think about Trent Reznor and not want to have sex immediately. Boys and girls included.

 

 

 

Master of Puppets, Metallica
Put on your leather g-string and chant, “Master! Master!” along with the guttural James Hetfield. Enough rock to get the non-dominatrix groupies going too.