No doubt many a porn performer woke up Wednesday morning with tears in their eyes thinking they had lost their jobs and that it was all over for them.
While Election Day and all its vital issues may have turned our heads for the moment, may I remind you that next month the Universe has bigger fish to fry. According to some New Age theorists, it’s all over as of December 21st the last day of the Mayan calendar. So if condoms don’t get you, maybe it will be a random meteor or a broken Obama election promise that will.
On a lighter note, I noticed that Interpol’s favorite pin-up, Lupe Fuentes, has recorded a record album. I’ll be the first to tell you I don’t get today’s music. I’m a product of the misguided Fifties and Sixties when a song on the radio reminded you of very distinct moments in your life- your first job, your first shave, your first make out session, the time the condom broke when you were inside your favorite girl.
And that’s the sad thing about today’s porn performers. They have no real songs to emotionally cling to, or root themselves to; and, while I realize the music I’ll be playing is older than some parents of performers, maybe you’ll discover a tune or two you never heard before.
Thanks to the wonderful songs of that era, I’ve got a jukebox in my head full of tunes that fit every possible occasion you could imagine. Even condoms.
Condoms are a bummer. Nobody likes ‘em especially when you thought you were protected and you got the startling news you were a daddy. Which never happened to me though I’ve come close on many occasions.
With Carol W., a student nurse I was dating in the summer of 1966, I never got to use one. A first-rate sexual manipulator, Carol was dating me but was two-timing her boyfriend Mike who was in the service.
When it looked like Mike was going to propose, Carol who had successfully warded off some major advances on my part dumped me. And, like an Aztec high priest, she cut my beating heart out of my chest and left it on the pavement at the intersection of Cottman and Rising Sun Avenues in Northeast Philly.
It was at a time the Righteous Brothers, Bill Medley and Bobby Hatfield, were on a roll. They had collaborated with Phil Spector on Spector’s orchestral “wall of sound” for You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’, and this record was a product from that genre- I think, the greatest “cry” song ever recorded and it still makes me weak in the knees. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Righteous Brothers
Put away the hankies all ready and let’s get close and sexy. The following song drips of unprotected intercourse and was recorded by Solomon Burke. It’s heard in the Patrick Swayze movie, Dirty Dancing; by the way, deejays of that era referred to him as “Mr.” Solomon Burke, out of respect, and you’ll hear why:
I don’t know about you, but I get misty eyed and goose bumpy simultaneously whenever I hear that number. Next up, is a somewhat obscure song I got to know from religiously viewing a dance program that was broadcast live from the Steel Pier in Atlantic City, New Jersey on Saturday and Sunday afternoons during the summers. It’s blues to the core – from Garnet Mimms and The Enchanters, and there’s no condoms.
And the immortal Roy Orbison gives us Crying: www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSrdWK4t3XY
For this set, I’m tossing in a bonus. While it’s not a “cry” song specifically, the following recording by Elvis, I think, is the best thing he ever did. It’s got that great Sinatra theme about a guy, late at night, thinking about the girl who dumped him…and the fact that he never even got to use a condom.
Stay tuned throughout this weekend. There’s much more.