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The Cozy Spot

18 posts categorized "Music"

May 10, 2008

Aural Seduction

I’m partial to male vocalists. I like hearing a unique male singer. It’s a form of aural arousal, and truth be known, I sometimes prefer listening to men sing.

I’m currently listening to John Waite (he of ‘When I See You Smile’ fame, which became a number one smash in the United States some years back, for Bad English), and I love listening to John Waite. I’ve listened to John Waite since his ‘Baby’s’ fame. He is a vocal powerhouse.

I also have a vocal crush on Steve Perry (Journey). When he ascends the highest notes, I compare it to a vocal orgasm; how can a man do that? I think.

Laugh at my lameness. I’m no trendy music fad freak. When I saw Neil Diamond, some years back (long story, but I didn’t initially purchase the tickets for myself, but ended up going anyway), he was a sprightly 60+ man, and his voice was fucking unbelievable. Yes, I do like Neil Diamond. I could listen to him sing all day long. I prefer listening to his version of, “I’m a believer,” because he did it better than The Monkees, but that’s my biased view.

And if I even began on Freddie Mercury, we’d be here all day long.

I seldom listen to female singers. Mariah Carey is too frou-frou for me, too perfect and lovey dovey. Then again, listening to Bono is like listening to someone running their fingernails down a blackboard for me. I don’t have definite criteria. Listening to Dilana’s version of Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire is like stepping into the seduction zone, and she doesn’t have a perfect Julie Andrews/Mariah Carey voice. She sounds like she’s smoked a lifetime’s supply of Marlboro’s, as does Tina Turner, but the sex they inject into a song is something for the ear to behold, but I can’t say that I’m able to sit there for long periods of time listening to them.

Out of most female pop singers, my selection will surprise, but I think that Anne Wilson (Heart) has to be the best. I love listening to her. What is there not to love about ‘Magic Man,’ ‘Barracuda’ and ‘All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You’?

Songs don’t have to be smooth, and the voices don’t have to be syrup-sweet. There are days when I get off on James Hatfield’s (Metallica) anger, and you can find me (on any day of the week), listening to Metallica’s S & M album, which is like my favorite album of all time.

If only men could sing, because come on, there are moments when I’ve thought, ‘why can’t you sing instead of talk?’ or ‘why can’t you sing instead of offering me a lame pickup line?’and I guess some guys feel the same way about gals.

Continue reading "Aural Seduction" »

May 05, 2008

Madonna Kidnapped!

No no, it's not like that, but life sized images of Madonna are being stolen from music outlets in Hong Madonna Kong. Warner Music is perplexed, and rightly so, it's not a common pastime. One would be hard pressed to hear of life sized cutouts of Michael Buble being kidnapped, but we're talking about Madonna here, one of the most influential pop music divas of the last two decades.

It is a positive compliment for a woman who is nearing a half-century.

Go Madonna!

November 28, 2007

The Ideal Threeway

It isn’t named the Rain Song for nothing.

Picture laying back, rain hammering the roof, and being swept away by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant - one of my MFM threeways.

“Ahhh oohh yeah…oooh yeah…”



October 14, 2007

Sexual Song 3 - Review

Sexual Song 3 was kindly provided by Jaime Portal Luchini for me to review. Luchini, the maestro behind Sexsonica, has produced two collections (Sexual Song 1 and 2), and Sexual Song 3 is as erotic as the previous two. There is nothing sweeter than the sound of pleasure, and the Siren/female vocalist who provides notes of pleasure and ecstasy, can be heard (and felt?) throughout the sexual soundtrack. Sexual Song 3, like its two predecessors, creates a sensual ambiance, transporting one to a different plane of erotic thought. This can occur away from the sexual moment. It certain gave new meaning to riding the bus.

I enjoyed it so much that I was inspired to jot a short passage:Sexual_song

My animus awoke within the sultry confines of the Sexual Fashion Shop, in the City of Nocturnal Ecstasy. I caught a glimpse of Obsessive Stimulation, in the form of a swarthy male inspecting the goods; the treats, toys and PVC dresses proclaimed: Pleasure Yourself Again. He kept at it, running his digits along the slick fabric.

His fingers offered sensual escape with their agility: a lurid picnic. My mind ran wild. A Forest Date at midnight? They slid along the coat hanger, stopping briefly to appreciate the metal side zip; each Hypnotic Movement unraveled my Dangerous Instinct.  Shaken, the fiery jet within my stomach propelled me toward the door. I needed air, or the refreshing aura of the Sunrise Caressing my face, so I could briefly escape the lurid fire or regroup my thoughts. I’d return to plunder his sexual coffers and play him, until each chord snapped.


The above passage contains the song titles that can be found on Sexual Song 3. Each song presents an erotic vista that varies in accordance to the tempo, mood and scenery. A Forest Date is reminiscent of al fresco pleasure, or getting in touch with nature, and the sexual nuances. Mood, rhythm, sensuality and sexual arousal are blended, to culminate into an orgiastic dish of ecstasy. Luchini uses a wide array of music styles to paint vivid erotic canvasses; Hypnotic Movement transports the listener to another culture. The Indian influences of this song bring Vatsyayana's Kama Sutra to mind; the feminine arousal accompanying the song involves the listener on many levels. You can visualize entwined limbs, perspiration and passionate exertions. Pleasure Yourself Again, a sharp, snappy tune, celebrates feminine sexuality without any lengthy spiel and diatribe. It reaches into the woman, to extract the naughty girl within.

The music can be an ambient appetizer for a personal erotic interlude, and can very well be soundtrack potential for adult film.   

More information on Sexual Song can be found at Sexual Song. Go, have a listen...

June 08, 2007

Rewinding the Clock: At Eighteen....

Frederick Schwartz, he of the heavenly sulphuric posts on all unfolding current affairs and political peccadilloes, managing editor of the Dis Brimstone Daily Pitchfork tagged me for this musical walk down memory lane. It takes one back to the milestone year, the eighteenth year and although alcohol was (and still is) prohibited in some places (luckily it wasn’t that way for me here in Oz, so I could indulge in sex and the odd gin and tonic, orgasms, et al), sex wasn’t barred.

Ah to be eighteen again? Well…I don’t know. Maybe if they altered 80% of the play list of 1989? I turned eighteen in this year.

Now I’m inviting everyone who stops by here to participate in this little musical nostalgia (why not make it a musical orgy?), to retrace their eighteenth year. Rules are as follows, but you can view the rules at the Dis Brimstone Daily Pitchfork as well as indulge in Frederick’s post:

1. Go to (Done)
2. Pick the year you turned 18 (1989)
3. Get yourself nostalgic over the song’s of the year (Done)
4. Write something about how the songs affected you (See below, at your own auditory peril)
5. Pass it on to 5 more friends

And now for the walk… film clips included. Click the ‘continue’ link to…d’oh…continue:

Continue reading "Rewinding the Clock: At Eighteen...." »

June 01, 2007


I counted twenty thousand steps on the pedometer. Twenty thousand steps away from the routine day, twenty thousand steps away from him, ten thousand steps into a new direction; another moment, a new inhalation, and along with this, new thoughts.

“I watch your cock shrivel up, and die like a dehydrated invertebrate. Something needs to die in order for life, my life, to continue.”

Swooping into another realm, which can be a light year away from the momentary lapses of reason or logic. Beats pulse through the wire, entering my circulatory system, funneling notes directly to my heart as legs warm up to the pace; the world drifts away, each superfluous sound, from the Doppler whir of passing cars to chattering café heads, dissolves.

Five to one, one to five,

Nobody here gets out alive…

I open up to take a look into the bright and shiny book

Into the open scheme of things

Book of brilliant things...

I unpick images of entwined limbs, sweat and the steady rhythm of moaning vocal chords. Each step extricates me from the chaos that is associated with order. Whose order? Mine? Five, ten blocks or five kilometers, time evaporates, and the distance extends farther than I stopped to consider. The wristwatch, abandoned on the coffee table, awaits my return and I couldn’t care. A cold, invigorating, breeze whips my cheeks, reminding me of change and how change can mean diverging pathways.

Well, your fingers weave quick minarets

Speak in different alphabets

I light another cigarette.

Learn to forget…

With each step, street corner and green avenue.

Hips sway, each gluteus picks up the pace, working on each riff to squeeze out every last drop of lactic acid until the burn recedes, and I turn another corner. Free, unencumbered with what I should, ought to or consider doing. Liberated from what I need to be fucking, screwing, flirting, and as for my behavior…

The steady climb resurrects the pain, all the way to the top of the hill. Each step burns, my quads tremble…

…and my ties are severed clean
the less I have the more I gain
off the beaten path I reign
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will…

Damp, from head to toe. My pants adhere to my thighs, and a climactic inferno soothes the capillaries within my cheeks as I reach the top of the hill…

A world away from yesterday…

A fucking eon away from social expectation, and it feels so sweet, as each salty, aqueous drop slides down my face, arms and thighs.


Lyrics (italics)

Verse 1: Book of Brilliant Things – Simple Minds Live: In the City of Light

Verse 2: Soul Kitchen - The Doors, Live at the Aquarius

Verse 3: Wherever I May Roam – Metallica

May 22, 2007


The weather took a chilly turn overnight; there’s warmth within the chill. The week slides along, everything appears to be unfolding in slow motion, my mind yawns as it waits, and palpitations sputter forth at random intervals. Each step is calculated, or fixed to the monotony of routine; things seem slow, snail-like, where I’m the tortoise. The hare races round the corner, overtaking each striation of my cardiac muscle. It squeezes out crimson drops, distributing them to the necessary regions, including the soft, pliable territory between my legs.

It’s a killer craving; I wait to glimpse him.

Thoughts charge forth at hundred miles an hour, heading in a variety of directions and each one is dressed, infused with Dionysian undertones….


So I’ll finish off with two lurvy dovey songs in my language. The first - 'The Game of Love' is 80% English (Elena Paparizou), and the remainder Greek, and the second , 'Υποφέρω', (Despoina Vandi) has no English – unfortunately – but it’s always hit the right spot for me over the last few years.

and here's the matching film clip to the above song

May 13, 2007

Moments in Time

Gse1 There are two doses of sexy that I’d like to introduce. The first one has been a long time coming, and you can find it here. Stelios has many other photographs on his professional site, Viceatelier, that are eye catching, sensual and picturesque. I like ‘Capturing the Moment,’ because it’s a fun sexy moment and an unusual pose.


If you’ve been looking for that sexy soundtrack or simply desire something threaded with aural sensuality, then visit Sexual Song. There you’ll find a sample selection of hot - and I mean hot - tracks that are scented with orgasmic melodies and beats. It was difficult to extricate myself; as soon as I recover from my iTunes overdose in the earlier part of the week, I'll get round to downloading one of the two albums: Sexual Songs 1 or 2. Each song highlights a specific morsel of the erotic dance, be it foreplay or a part within the foreplay.


Eddie Ostrowski has updated his web site and has also included new photographs of Nora Marlo for visitors to visually sample, and there are many visual treats.

March 11, 2007

“Love making is physical, and so is its language…”

I stood in a checkout queue this afternoon flicking through Cosmo; I felt proud as I replaced the magazine on its stand ( I quit forking out cash for women's magazines two years ago, and smoking's next), but I did come across an article titled, ‘Sex, as you like it,’ and one thing that remained in my mind is how magazines tend to shoot for the generalizations. As I like it? I thought about it, did the quick arithmetic. There’s a difference between making love, and fucking; I believe that everyone has sadomasochistic tendencies, so domination and submission often enters the sexual equation in different forms, and it doesn’t end there.

A person can like sex in many different forms, depending on mood. Last night I was sorting my CD collection and came across a gem of a song on my Ministry of Sound Chillout Session 2 CD that I hadn’t listened to in a while, so I put it on. It’s not a three thousand word treatise on how people ought to make love/fuck/screw/engage/amalgamate/have intercourse, it highlights the sensual basics.

The title ‘Sex, as you like it,’ is like a pervy alternative to the Shakespearean play except that the magazine approach usually creates a supposed reader poll, with supposedly accurate percentages; a writer can create their own survey, and write up a few names, as they always do in these magazines where writers are known to begin sentences (to illustrate examples) with, ‘Take Alice’s relationship as one example. Her boyfriend Harry felt repulsed by the idea of cunnilingus, and the stress within the relationship increased,’ followed by token dialogue, ‘I asked him why he felt uneasy,’ and then it concludes with vanilla scented Pavlovian conditioning techniques that can be subtitled, ‘How to get your lover to love pussy.’

I can think of one way, when faced with the prospect of enduring sex with a sexual anal retentive:

Find someone else.

But you’re not supposed to say that in a magazine. It’s not nice, so I’ll borrow a line from the below song (Sensual Woman by the Herbaliser):

“Love making is physical, and so is its language…”

Enjoy the song.

ps: The song does feature sexually explicit lyrics, so if you're under 18, don't click the play button (even though I know you're gonna).

March 04, 2007


“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.” Jim Morrison

"If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite." The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (William Blake).

Jim Morrison was always on the cards for Male on Sunday, but the idea daunted me because The Doors, to me, are one of those bands that a person – so many years after Morrison’s death – doesn’t happen upon while listening to popular radio stations. The Doors find their listener, and I can only write about Jim Morrison as a listener, and how this band’s music has affected me. So this piece is going to take a scenic route, and the reader either jumps in the car, or hops off round about here.

Continue reading "Male on Sunday 16 - ΚΑΤΑ ΤΟΝ ΔΑΙΜΟΝΑ ΕΑΥΤΟΥ" »

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