These Songs Will Not Get You Laid

In honor of Valentine's Day, I put together a list of songs that have historically been major boner-killers.

Jeff Ogiba

Jeff Ogiba

Why am I alone on Valentine's Day? It may have something to do with the songs that I force women to listen to.

I've done a lot of stupid things trying to get laid on February 14. I've ended up getting punched, insulted, and written off for what ended up being, at the end of the day, poor music-related decisions. Here are a few lessons to pay attention to so you don't have to experience what I've put myself through.

Michael John, 1983

First rule of trying to get laid: don't use the "L" word with a new prospect. Your meeting is more than likely not about love. If you’re single and looking to mingle, love has almost nothing to do with it. That said, don't play songs that even mention love unless you want to come off as tacky, insincere, and creepy.

If you make the mistake of trying to impress your date with the most iconic Joy Division song, it would be worlds better than playing him or her this bastardized cover version. This early 80s power ballad rendition looks promising, but once you venture a few seconds in, you realize you’re in the middle of a trainwreck. The only thing you'll get for attempting to woo an interest with this one is laughed at.

Ultravox, 1984

Second rule to getting laid is to never be overly emotional on the first date. Don't cry at the movie, don't pull any sappy sad-guy/girl shit, and stay away from this song. I was dumb enough to open a mix tape with this track a few years back. The only response I got when I asked the girl how she liked the tape was: "umm. It was weird." Weird = another night alone, dudes. Don't do it.

David Candy, 2001

Ian Svenonious is a genius. When I was in my early twenties I found this David Candy record—I was blown away. It's basically Svenonious’ alt-universe version of a teen pop star's album. But take heed; that alone won't guarantee you safe passage to the whispering eye.

The album, Power Play, is quirky in an Austin Powers sort of way, with exciting 60s bachelor pad/lounge soundtrack instrumentals that jump wildly underneath Candy's arrogant brand of spoken word lechery. It's the kind of stuff you don't play for someone you want to keep around. Although I've been tempted, I’ve never included any of these songs on mix tapes for potential bedmates—restraining orders are no fun at all. If you’re into that sort of thing, here's a track that, if sent to right person, will most likely get you locked up.

Alan Parson's Project, 1993

Here's the song that totally fucked up my Valentines Day in 2003. I had to go and pick my date up—she had a fear of making left turns and wouldn't drive the five miles to my New Jersey apartment. When we got back to my place I sat her down in my "Maxell Man" listening chair, handed her a cocktail, and instructed her to close her eyes. I turned the volume up just as the needle on the turntable hit the wax and four minutes later I was as good as history to this girl. I remember her saying something like "this sucks. It scares me that you are interested in this b-rate wannabe Pink Floyd shit. This song is creepy, it's not sexy, and it's something I'd expect my divorced uncle to be blasting in his man cave".

After that, she decided to turn on my TV, ignore me, and watch four hours of Love Connection while smoking half a carton of cigarettes. After my fifth and final attempt at cuddling with her, I stood up and said: "Get your shit.”

She followed me down the stairs and hopped in my champagne '92 Honda Civic. I drove about twenty miles per hour over the speed limit to the other side of town to drop her off. I slammed on the brakes in front of her house and just sat there looking forward. "Your intense love for Prince is pretty homosexual. Might wanna think about that one…" She sneered before getting out. I sped off with the passenger side door only halfway closed and never made contact with her again.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

If you live in New York, you can go bother Jeff at Black Gold Records in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.

You can also follow his (mostly) music-related thoughts at @jeffogiba