Sex & Drugs & Rock ‘n Roll

Banned in Boston
by Liz Starbuck
Women of the SS photo by Chris Johnson

Sex & Drugs & Rock ‘n Roll are supposed to go hand-in-hand, but what about here in New England, home of the Puritans? (Do you think it’s just coincidence that the most distinctive buildings in the Boston skyline are “The ‘Cock” and “The Prude”?)

Why is it that all the sex in the clubs takes place behind the scenes (and in a remarkably sexist atmosphere, but don’t get me started), and when it is brought to the forefront, the music is brain-searingly bad? Can you honestly say that there is a single band in Boston that is both sexually and musically compelling? And don’t just start listing all the bands in which you just want to “do” one of the performers.

I’m sorry to have to remind you of this, but the unchallenged leader in the Sex & Rock ‘n Roll scene in Boston is, and has been for some time, Sleep Chamber. This band has been attracting sell-out crowds for years. How can we forgive ourselves for this? And whose fault is it, anyway? Please raise your hand if a never-attractive-but-now-washed-out mid-forties former-Redline-T-driver’s sexual fantasies set to a simplistic and interminable industrial beat turn you on. (Bumpa-bumpa-boom Park Street Station, bumpa-bumpa-boom, Kendall Square…) I would endeavor to describe John Zewizz’s fantasies for you, but what’s the point? I’m sure you can guess. What amazes me is how Zewizz can consistently attract incredibly beautiful women who are not half-bad dancers (and who, as far as I can tell, are bright, articulate and talented in other fields as well) to act out his fantasies on stage. The only explanation I can venture is that Zewizz provides the only alternative venue for erotic performance outside the Combat Zone. It’s hard to be an artist on Washington Street. And these performers are artists and do deserve a venue; unfortunately putting their talents toward realizing fantasies which wouldn’t even make it into Penthouse Letters is really a shame. Not to mention the fact that no matter how much the women turn you on, watching and listening to Zewizz is more effective than an ice floe. On the other hand, if you’re into lesbian sex scenes as visualized by men (awfully popular these days), women who are seen but not heard, leather and chains from Hubba Hubba, or just looking at pretty, lithe women’s bodies, you may be satisfied with this; that is, if you can stand that awful din.

And if women slithering around on the floor, their shapely thonged behinds airborne at Zewizz’s knee level, is not your thing, you can try Women of the SS, a spin-off of Sleep Chamber. Enema anyone? Unconvincing, cheesy sadistic rituals are practiced on the slave-boy-of-the-week (pick up an application at the nearest Store 24), who invariably looks as if he is drawing upon his birth-trauma as the last time he can remember responding to pain. Many of them aren’t even physically attractive. Anyone got a newspaper? That T ride is sounding pretty exciting right now. (Bumpa-bumpa-boom, Wollaston Beach!) And what could be worse than John Zewizz’s 1-900 guttural intonations to an industrial Toys-R-Us drum machine beat? I’ll tell you: Women of the SS’s 1-900 guttural intonations to an industrial Toys-R-Us drum machine beat, with a Hogan’s Heroe’s German accent! Ach!™ Nancy Sinatra, where are you now?

If you like men in dresses, there’s always Gingerbutkis, or for women in duct-tape, follow Elaine Walker (DDT/Zia). Again, though, don’t forget the earplugs. el Dopa is not a particularly sexual band, but the music is good and Krishna Venkatesh has taken to dropping his drawers at shows lately. Try as he might to look weird, I still think he’s attractive.

But in all fairness, the national scene seems not much better. When’s the last time you heard the Genitorturers or the Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black praised for their musical prowess? I’d rather jerk off to Nine Inch Nails (and it’s not a gender issue). Or, for that matter, even Aerosmith! (Wouldn’t you like to tie them up and leave them in your basement for a few years?)

Various other sex-acts set to music pass through ManRay in Central Square and will now undoubtedly pass through the Dungeon in Harvard Square, but none of them seem to hang on like Sleep Chamber. (In case you hadn’t heard, the Dungeon, downstairs from the House of Blues, supposedly hosts a B&D scene, but since WFNX has glommed onto it, their version of B&D is no doubt pre-digested for the GenX landed gentry.)

For my money, the bands around here that are sexiest are ones that concentrate on the music, and may incidentally present themselves in an erotic way, like Holy Cow (from Rhode Island), whose music is complex, ritualistic and animalistic, and whose lead singer has quite a body and no shortage of charisma. Siobhan McAuley, formerly of the Trojan Ponies and now of Cerum, has a croon and a wail that will raise the… well, y’know… and when she grinds, the men in the audience stand transfixed, clasping their beer bottles tightly before them in the upright position. My personal favorite for steamy, evocative music is Morphine, and they’re just as good recorded as live, in fact, maybe better, because I’d rather listen to a baritone sax than slam to it. Besides, Mr. Mark “we don’t need guitars, we have an implied wall of guitars” Sandman’s new Las Vegas-style stage persona – who is coaching this guy? – gives me the chills; I liked him better when he was sullen and weird. (And don’t tell Dana Colley that you think their music is sexy – it makes him feel exploited.) Still, nothin’ beats ’em for atmosphere. And how do they get all those pheromones onto their disks?

Still, I don’t see why it’s impossible to find a good band with creative outward sexuality.

Editor’s mealy-mouthed justification: Liz is actually a swell girl, she just calls it as she sees it. If you think she’s the coolest shit known to the printed word, write her a letter. Conversely, if you think she’s got her head stuck up her whining idiom, write her and tell her so. Sitting in your living room or complaining down at the local bar doesn’t change public opinion, letting fly a clever and amusing editorial just might. If you’ve got the courage to sling ink and put your name to it, WRITE IT UP! If not, enjoy and/or shut up and live with it.