The Beat of the Music

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I don’t have a soundtrack to my life.  I’m not one of those people who has a constant need for music, I find it too distracting and it will trigger my hatred of noise unless I’m prepared. Attending opera and concerts is a different matter and I can think of some sublime songs/arias (whatever you want to call them) that I could wax lyrically about.

My knowledge of songs from pop culture stops around 1990 because if I have listened to the radio at all since then, it will have been Radio 3.

However, there is one place where I have started hearing the soundtrack to a part of my life – the dungeon.

BeatOfTheMusicIt never used to register, it was just mood music or ‘dungeon muzak’ to maintain an atmosphere.  Then, one day I found method and meaning in the previous randomness.

I’ve come to realise just how much of a holistic sensory experience time on the bench can really be.  She’s developed a way of sensitising me all over the bottom, playing on so many aspects of power, rhythm and spatial location.  Over time, it’s become another form of hypnotic induction.  One day entering this state it all came together as I found my other senses activated and particularly my hearing tied in to the dungeon soundtrack.

Kind of a late realisation, but my awareness had only just caught up with these dungeon nuances, the rhythms she was deploying came from the music.  It gradually registered that the change of the cane strokes from slow and languorous to brisk and sharp was aligned to the dungeon soundtrack.

How I’d missed that before, I don’t know.  Perhaps an indication I hadn’t been able to let go fully until then.  It gave me even more appreciation of the subtleties, that much of the experience in the dungeon is far less random than it might seem.  Even her choice of music planned to get inside my mind and give her more hooks with which to play me.

She’d work very precisely in the slow sections, spreading the sensitising pain, listening to me almost purr as I dropped deeper in to trance.  The faster sections bringing me up, but not out of, trance and more vocal as the pain burned unable to dissipate quickly enough.

There was one particular song that broke this awareness inside me – of course, I had to Google it later never having heard it before and when I did, I chuckled even more because it was also a wonderful case of mis-heard lyrics.

What I heard on that bench made me chuckle as much as I was wincing from her using  the effect of that repeated chorus to wield the cane:

The boys wanna beat her 
The girls wanna beat her  
The boys wanna beat her 
The girls wanna beat her  
The boys wanna beat her  
The girls wanna beat her  
The boys wanna beat her 
I wanna beat her
Yes I do

Those more aligned to popular culture than I am will have spotted my rather good Freudian slip of the mis-heard lyric which I found when I got home and Googled it.  The song is  Peaches – Boys Wanna Be Her.  Yes, that’s ‘Be’ and not ‘Beat’.

Considering where I am and what’s happening to me at the time, over the bench, feeling the cane biting and the swirl of the endorphins, I think my mis-heard version is the much better one.  I’ve always heard it that way since.

And there’s a nice little sub text to it all.  Yes, I do wanna be her.


Written for the #WickedWednesday meme of “Song Title”.  Why not go check out the other posts by clicking on the button.

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