Thursday, December 12, 2013

Give Me the Music

by Giselle Renarde

Have you noticed how pervasive "rockstar romance" erotic novels have become lately?  I'll admit, my finger's not exactly on the pulse of modern romance trends (much as it ought to be, since I operate at least somewhat in that genre), so if I've noticed it, it must be a thing.  Books, stories, 30-novel box sets, all about girls and guys lusting after rockstars.

And this is probably a brilliant trend to hop onboard--because if there's one kind of hero that never gets old, it's a rockstar hero.

I'm going to get way too personal here, because I know how much you love it when I tell you all my sexrets. <=That was supposed to be "secrets" but I can't bring myself to erase a Freudian typo.

Right.  So, you've probably heard me mention that, at this stage of my life, my primary attraction is to women.  If you want to know something quirky and odd about me, here's a random fact: the only guys I've found myself attracted to in the past few years (aside from Professor Snape, but he's fictional anyway) are musicians.

Super-SUPER-gay musicians.

Rufus Wainwright.  OMG.  My heart is beating faster just looking at that name.

This is nothing new, come to think of it.  When I was a preteen, I recorded my father's Elton John's Greatest Hits record onto a cassette tape and played it every night as I fell asleep, fantasizing about dancing endless tangos with him.  Someone was wearing a flashy red gown, and I don't think it was me.

Earlier this year (or maybe it was last year), Ryan Field posted a call for submissions.  He was putting together an anthology called The Women Who Love to Love Gay Romance.  It happens that I don't read gay romance (or any romance, for that matter), but his concept of having female authors insert themselves into gay sex scenes hooked me, totally.  I had to write something for him.  And I did.

And it was about a gay musician. Obviously.

My story featured a fictionalized version of a Canadian indie artist called Owen Pallett. You may remember him from when he performed as Final Fantasy. Or maybe you don't know him at all.  Here he is:



I wrote a story called "Baby Got Bach" for Ryan Field's anthology--a what-if scenario based on... oh boy, this is embarrassing... 

See, last year Owen Pallett's first violin concerto was premiered with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra.  He didn't perform the piece himself, but he was there.  He hosted the afterparty.  Which meant that, after the show, I found myself in the same room as him.  He was standing right there.  Right-the-fuck there. And do you think I could work up the courage to say, "Hey, I love your music."

Nope.

I stood in the corner and stared at him like a huge creepy perv.  And then I left.

When I got writing "Baby Got Bach" I kind of hit a writer's block wall when it came to actually envisioning myself engaging in any kind of sexual activity with this guy.  If I got my hands on one of the gay musicians I'm constantly perving over, what would I even do with him?

Do I want Rufus Wainwright's penis in my vagina?

Umm... actually, no.  I don't want that at all.  And yes, I realize there are many other ways to have sex, but when it comes right down to it, I don't want to do any of those things with these people.  I could perv over Rufus Wainwright concert clips on YouTube ALL. NIGHT. LONG. but I don't want to fuck him.  I'm almost disappointed in myself, admitting that, but I just can't picture it.

Maybe it's not the musicians.  Maybe I want to fuck the music.

The music gives me this giddy, blissful feeling that's... well, a lot like love.  Like a frenzy of misdirected lust and joy and cosmic orgasm.  It's hard to explain, because it feels like infatuation.  There's a longing and a pull, a desire, and it's strong.  It's damn strong.  I'm not even sure what you'd call it.

But I guess romance readers can keep their rockstars after all, as long as they give me the music.

14 comments:

  1. "Maybe it's not the musicians. Maybe I want to fuck the music." oh yeah ;) this is a great insight. & Rufus Wainwright's music is so fuckable. a friend just told me about Owen. i'm going to have to check him out. great post, G.

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    1. I've never seen Owen Pallett live, but I'm fascinated by the looping. He's brilliant at building sound on sound until he's got something that's half orchestral even though it's only him playing.

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  2. I love this, Giselle, thank you! I perv over rock stars all the time, and I think people assume that means I would fuck them if given the chance. I remember trying to have that fantasy when I was younger and getting stuck in exactly the way you describe. The feeling is sexual for me, but it's not PiV sexual. As Amanda said, "Maybe I want to fuck the music" is a fantastic insight.

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  3. This is really interesting! (Ha—that sounds like one of those generic spambot blog comments. But I swear, it's really me, Jeremy, thinking your post was really interesting! (:v>)

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  4. Great post, Giselle! One thing it highlights for me (moving away from the music theme a bit) is the way desire need not be attached to a physical, sexual objective at all. It's more akin to worship - a sort of erotic ecstasy. I love erotica that can make me wet without any sex involved (because that gets at the core of the matter for me). And sometimes I get annoyed by the emphasis, in current CFS, on the physical sex acts, which for me normally the outcome, not the motivation.

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    1. I can't for the life of me figure out what "CFS" means! *cries*

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  5. By the way, Desiree used to work in the music business, and has written quite a few books about rock stars and rock bands. I'm looking forward to her post!

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  6. I love how you put all that, Lisabet. I've been trying to emphasis lately, when I respond to discourse that implicitly reduces erotic content in literature to "the sex scenes," that "the sex" in true erotica (i.e., fiction that first and foremost explores and celebrates the human sexual experience) encompasses everything from desire to attraction to reflection, and, as you say, doesn't necessarily have to include physical sex acts.

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    1. Hmm.... now I'm wondering if that other Jeremy really was a spambot after all. heh.

      Actually, if I start to reply to the actual content of your comment I'll be writing for days. I'll save it for an actual post. Because you're really on to something.

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  7. I can remember those teenage crushes, when although I was aware of sex in some basic way, the idea of having sex with them was almost repulsive. I would probably have fucked any female of any shape who walked, sat or crawled at the time *except* the crush.

    Another thing this brings up is the numbers of women attracted to gay men. I guess it's all personal, but is there a common thread for that attraction? Is it like the thing that many men get turned on by lesbians, just imagining what goes on between them?

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    1. I suspect that's the question Ryan Field was putting to the world in assembling his anthology. I don't have all the answers, or any answers, really. A lot of women (queer and straight alike) seem to get off on gay porn, but that's not my thing. I'm really drawn to gender non-normativity, so "effeminate" men hold my heart.

      Also, I've always been attracted to people who are bound to reject me. I'm fucked up like that.

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  8. I sometimes think that music and sex stimulate the same pleasure centers in the brain (which would explain the eternal efforts to suppress the kinds of music that come closest to being orgasmic.)

    (pst, Giselle, CFS means Calls for Submission)

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    1. Thanks! I would never have figured that out. heh

      Also: Elvis the Pelvis.

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