The Ten Best Songs About... Erectile Dysfunction

This article originally appeared on Noisey UK.

There was a time when you couldn’t go for a pint of milk without glancing an innocent stiffy standing to attention at its owner’s waist. Every bloke would be parading their unprovoked erections proudly through the explicit grooves of their ill-fitting pants, dancing down the streets in euphoric celebrations of their evident potency. Even pre-watershed sitcoms would contain the odd gag where a dude would place the settee cushion over his crotch when the love interest wandered out from the bathroom with their hair all wet. You remember those days.

Then the internet came, and the wild and unstoppable explosion of pornography gradually desensitised every male mind in the land. Mother Nature’s ultimate turn on—real life sex between humans—was quickly superseded by the “hentai” section of YouJizz.com, and the era of erectile dysfunction began to ironically rise. We are now deep into the flop epoch, the fapular aftermath, the post-acockalyptic nightmare—Pelé warned us this time would come.

Whether you’re on-the-night excuse is a few too many beers, one too many lines, or just an inexplicable equipment failure, floppy cock is now an ordinary occurrence for most lads in the 21st century. And while there’s thousands of songs detailing the experiences of successful pole vaulters, most musicians seem strangely reluctant to pen ditties about the modern reality of junk malfunction. But they are out there, you are not alone.

I tracked down a load of songs that’ll put your mind at ease: It is common, it’s not a big deal, and it does happen to everybody. Well, everyone in possession of a Johnson. So stop shooting those dismayed and accusing glances at your guilty crotch, and draw comfort from this playlist.

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“I tried to love her back (she's just a girl)/And then I shrunk back into my wrap (she's just a girl)/And in the barrel of my gun/I hope I'm not the only one”

It’s 2015, and if you’re still denying that Inside In/Inside Out soundtracked the awful trilby plus winklepickers combo phase of your miserable adolescent experience, then you’re only lying to yourself. NME tried to pretend this song was an ode to Katie Melua, but it’s actually about flaccid dicks. I guess, in a way, we could both be correct, but let's not dwell on that mental image too long.

“I'd pop myself in your body/I'd come into your party, but I'm soft”

I was hoping there would be more club music in this playlist so I could make a hilarious joke about “flaccid house,” but it seems the indie lads are the ones hit hardest by ED. Caleb Followhill might be married to a Victoria’s Secret model now, but there was a time when one too many whisky shots could cool his mojo down into a very sad slushie. Booze, eh? It’s quite the perplexity; that the sweet, confidence-boosting nectar of alcohol, which can be so effective in loosening inhibitions and engineering sexy times, is also often the toxic evil that whisks away all hope at the last minute. Booze will forever troll penises worldwide.

“Why can't you get it up? It must be your face/Or it's your body/If it ain't your body/Then it must be your face”

‘DON’T TALK ABOUT YOUR FUCKING BOYFRIEND WHEN WE’RE HAVING SEX, HOW ABOUT THAT?!’ yells lead singer Jimmy Urine on this delicate and sensitive account of a failed hook up. Urm, yeah that might do it.

“It doesn't mean that I don't love you, one more try with me above you. It's got nothing to do with anything I've had to drink. It's more to do with the way I think.”

A case of the silly willies is absolutely no laughing matter, but this joint from Art Brut is so witty it might just elicit a bit of wee. It's three minutes of monotonously intoned apologies, offers of coffee and instructions to “leave the light on” that result in a horribly hilarious and accurate reminder of last Saturday’s awkward one night stand, which ended with a premature Uber ride and solo Netflix.

“I never care/who I go to bed with/Male or female/there's never any, never any, never any incentive”

Bloody hell, Harry! It’s the post-punk reggae lament to a limp cock that you always asked for. If Camden Lock came to life, this would be the only song on its iPod.

“Is it something you lack when I'm flat on my back? Is it something that I can do for you? It's always something you hate or it's something you ate. Tell me is it the way that I touch you?”

Elastica: the absolute last word in faux-90s nonchalance. Little known fact: Justine Frischmann was one of the first patients to undergo a surgical procedure that fuses your hands to the pockets of your jeans, for maximum insouciance. Apparently, Damon Albarn goes red and mutters something about "creative pressure" whenever this song comes on.

"When the fire in my boiler/Up and quit before I came/There ain't no empty cellar/Need a gone dead train"

There’s only one scenario more troubling than not being able stand to attention in the first place: losing it halfway through. One minute you’re James Dean, rolling a prophylactic down your pipe and gearing up to give your partner the porn star special. A jump cut later and you’re living in a Woody Allen flop, awkwardly pulling on beige chinos and stumbling over excuses as Diane Keaton materialises from nowhere to stare at you impassively. Go away, Diane!

“And when she try to give me lovin' I end up like a gimp/Looks like a hoochie mamma wookiee huggin' up on a shrimp”

Apparently the source of Hot Action Cop’s penis problems is a gorgeous chick who has literally fucked them dry. After clocking their incredible noughties board-shorts-and-wristbands situation, I can confidently say that the case of Hot Action Cop vs. Believability can be dismissed. This band are legit poon magnets.

“Try imagining something passionate/Between you Cassie and Kim Kardashian/Maybe that'll work when you get to hit that ass again/Or you can grab a Red Bull and sip that twice/Now y'all can have sexy time, it's nice”

If somebody dedicated their life and times to unpicking the insanity of this video, they still wouldn’t have made it past the first 20 seconds by the time the Grim Reaper came knocking. Who envisaged this concept? Who greenlit this song? Who then proceeded to listen to “Stay Up” and believed they needed to blow a thick stack of bills on creating visuals to accompany it? Madness. ‘Ye and 88 cruise town with some hot chicks, visit a sex shop and get crunk at the club—except they’re in full old man drag. And Pete Wentz shows up! Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy is officially in this video and it is all you could hope for and more, as he casually browses through panties and tries to dodge the cameras. Between Pete Wentz getting caught shopping for Ashlee Simpson and Kanye’s 2008 Kim Kardashian reference, this is truly the crème de la crème of impotence anthems.

“You give me head/It makes it worse/Take out your fuckin' retainer/Put it in your purse”

This song is basically a letter that goes: "Let’s not sugar coat it: At present I find myself at a level of intoxication where it would be prudent to forgo any attempts at performing the act of sexual intercourse. Also, I’ve just shat everywhere xoxoxo" -your boyfriend.

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