Okay folks, let’s talk about sex. We may as well do so…it’s on our minds all the time anyway (just ask Freud). Most of us have done it. Even our parents have done it at least once (yuk). And if you think about it, sex is like playing jazz: it’s okay by yourself, but it’s more fun with at least four other people. And an appreciative audience.
So, let’s get to the point here: I know that each and every one of you, at some point, has looked up at the stage at the musicians in the throes of their performing ecstasy and wondered: “Hmm…I wonder what they’re like in bed?” There’s no denying it—jazz is a sensual, sexy, passionate form of expression (I’d better stop there, I’m turning myself on).
No need to be embarrassed folks…we don’t mind that you think these things about us. In fact, here’s a little trade secret: if we’re nervous while performing, we will look out at you guys and picture you all naked (except when we play retirement homes).
So, purely for the interest of research, and for the benefit of the Syncopated Times subscriber, I’ve taken it upon myself to find out first hand what jazz musicians are like in bed, so you no longer have to wonder. I’ve been “hard at it” over the last six months, dedicating myself to this overwhelming horizontal undertaking, so I can give you the dirty details, without you having to do all the dirty work.
Brass players, woodwind players, rhythm section players, old, young, male, female; you name it, I did it. Most of it wasn’t pretty, but what can I tell you—I take my job seriously. Just think of me as the jazz equivalent of a war correspondent on the front lines: a lot of compromising positions, limbs flying everywhere, looks of horror in in a stranger’s face…and a lot of post-traumatic-stress therapy afterwards.
So after many months of research, the rash has cleared and the results are in. And what I found from my nocturnal investigations was a direct correlation between chosen instrument and bedroom performance. So I’ll break it down in that fashion for you now with the Professor’s guide to who’s who in bed:
Trumpeters: very loud in the sack. They are very confident, which is great, but for pete’s sake don’t mention that you’ve been with another trumpet player. Then they will spend the whole time asking who is better.
Banjo players: also very loud in bed, however the experience is pretty uncomfortable, and the whole thing a little clumsy. To be honest, you spend the whole time wishing you were with a guitarist instead.
Clarinetists: a little lanky, and unfortunately quite insecure. And for some reason during the act, they let out random squeaks, which is quite unsettling.
Drummers: woohoo, they are lots of fun!! They’ve got great rhythm (but of course), however it gets pretty annoying because they have to keep running outside to put money in the parking meter.
Singers: well, I haven’t actually been able to hook up with a singer. They certainly love to flirt with you at the gig, but I’m pretty sure they just go home and watch YouTube videos of themselves.
Pianists: good with their hands.
Tuba players: good with their lips.
Jazz festival organizers: spend the whole time telling you how good it’s gonna be, but by the time you get down to business you have to work twice as hard, and rather than do it in a beautiful room (as promised), you end up doing it on the back of a truck and you’re starving because they didn’t even buy you dinner.
Jazz agents: they promise you a great time, but when you wake up in the morning you realize nothing actually happened and they’ve taken your wallet.
So, after all this hard work and sacrifice, here’s my advice: don’t bother chasing down a jazz musician for some fun. By all means go out and enjoy them at their gigs, but then afterwards, head on home (by yourself), pour yourself a glass of wine, light some aromatherapy candles, and put on an Adrian Cunningham CD. There’s no better way to…ahem…enjoy yourself.