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Sex and Music

By Dani Weaver (she/her)

Being asked to write this sex column is turning into somewhat of a public diary for me. I’m diving deep, getting (a little too) honest and speaking in the only way I know how to... truthfully and from experience.

So you’re in the mood. The lights are low and your breaths are getting longer and deeper. Kisses are given and received by hot, wet lips. You lose clothes, piece by piece. Your partner starts to sweat. Maybe you let out a moan or two. Maybe there’s a spank involved, who knows? Chances are, whatever you’re into, and whoever you’re into, you’ve done the dirty while listening to music. Spotify sex playlist, anyone? Juicy jams? Sultry go-to’s? Minus the ads of course!

When I was in my early twenties, it was all about Kendrick. I embraced the party culture that emerged from songs about big booties, droppin’ it low and smoking weed while wearing sunglasses in a nightclub. In my mid-twenties, Ella Fitzgerald and 1940s jazz was my go to. I was all about creating that romantic vibe. And now, nearing my 28th birthday, give me a raw, silent room and I’m one happy gal.

It’s crazy looking back and seeing the obvious evolution. As I grew older, so did my taste in music but also, my taste in sex. Or rather, what has truly transformed is my relationship with sex. How I perceive sex, what I think about sex, and to be completely frank, how I actually have sex has completely changed. I guess it’s a part of growing up. There comes a familiarity with one’s body over time. A contentment. But the ultimate level of comfort is not just an inward sensation, it depends on your partner too. How open are you with your partner in the bedroom? How well do you communicate? Do you communicate? Are you both open to discussions around intimacy, even and especially when it's uncomfortable?

When I was 25 I dated a beautiful non-binary, polyamorous person. Being intimate with them was highly illuminating for me, not for any particular sexual reason but because of how they communicated with me during sex. They asked open-ended questions like “How does that feel?” giving me the space and opportunity to respond honestly. These types of questions contrasted with ones I’d been asked before. “Does that feel good?” or “Do you like that?” are both binary, binding questions. They lock you into answering with a simple yes or no. Extremely limiting. In reality, there’s an entire spectrum of feelings and emotions involved and creating the space for your partner to answer fluidly is soooo sexy. Consent is more than just a simple yes or no given at the beginning of sex. Check in with your partner. Ask questions, be honest, and find comfort together within your intimacy. Some more cool questions to consider are:

• “What can I do for you?”

• “How can I make you feel good?”

• “How do you feel when I...?

We listened to 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow', kissing for hours on end. We drank mulled wine and smoked cigarettes in cosy bars and sang at open mic nights. They played guitar in my backyard and we’d sing HER and Daniel Caesar covers. Eventually our steamy romance would blossom into a platonic friendship, leaving me with fond memories and a fucking rad communication style.

Music has the power to influence and enhance how we have sex. It pulls us into the world of melody, our bodies becoming instruments in sweet harmony with the orchestra.

A few years and a few spiritual glow-ups later, I’m in my first committed relationship in nearly eight years. We listen to music often, by TEEKS or SIX60 or my favourite cover artists on YouTube. But I can honestly say, it becomes less about the external setting and more and more about the connection I have with my partner. It’s no secret I am a spiritual-ass bitch, in that I seek the purest form of fulfillment in my experiences. Although music contains the power to create ambience or a desired atmosphere, I find nothing more satisfying and intense than silence. Silence makes room for the inhale and exhale, the low moans and the primal groans. I find these sounds connect me to not only my partner but also myself. They draw me into the present moment and the awareness of our bodies becomes heightened. I love it, and the sense of purity that arises when given an opportunity of silence. I feel a much deeper level of intimacy can be created when music is on pause. There is no added, superficial element all up in the mix, trying to add its two cents. Just two people together.

Although a silent room is my fave, living in a flat with three housemates doesn’t always cater to this. When the time has come, my shitty laptop speakers find themselves at max volume. Despite my personal preference, there is no denying music and sex go together like, well, music and sex. I find the two actually have a lot in common. They’re both fluid, moving and changing as we do. They have the power to shape how we feel. They’re powerhouses of energetic expression, conveying happiness or joy or even love. Music is the peanut butter and sex is the jelly. Great on their own, but a delicious explosion on your tongue when tasted together.

Music has the power to influence and enhance how we have sex. It pulls us into the world of melody, our bodies becoming instruments in sweet harmony with the orchestra. Sometimes we stumble across partners who play tunes differently to ours, but in the awkwardness we can discover what we like and what we don’t like. We may find partners who have got their tune memorised, seeming like they’ve played it a thousand times, and that can be intimidating. Just remember your tune is worthy, and valid, and beautiful. And when we’re lucky (or ready), we find someone whose tune syncs perfectly with ours, and the play button is pressed on a new song.


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