The cursed album Brian May lost his virginity to: “I will never forget”
Sex, drugs and rock and roll. A relatively simple phrase that conjures up the instant image of long haired rock stars, living a life of rebellious luxury. As that idea develops, you picture them somewhere extravagant or dangerous, where, once the rock and roll falls away and the drugs run out, the sex becomes outlandish.
But the reality is that behind every rock star and every overtly told orgy anecdote lies a virginity loss story that would make the deafening crowd screams turn into patronising ‘aww’ noises.
Whether you want to believe it or not, Robert Plant burst through puberty as a serial womaniser, nor did David Bowie understand the lucid boundaries of his own sexuality as an introverted teenager. But one thing is for damn sure, Brian May probably wouldn’t be sharing his virginity loss details had he not gone on to play guitar for one of the biggest-selling rock bands of all time.
As crafty a guitarist as he was, he didn’t quite share the same charisma as his 1970s counterparts. Mercury was the driving force behind the band’s character, but again that was steeped far more in the band’s ability to transfix audiences with their lengthy rock opera tales. Their discography didn’t quite share the same level of inherent libido as say Led Zeppelin, who despite singing about faraway mystical lands, did it laced with unbridled sexuality.
Which is largely why Queen’s name is removed from any sheet beat discussions. Sure, you may think their incessant tempo shifts and lengthy solos may bode well during intimacy, but there is an overwhelming sense of theatricality to the music that, on the whole, for it of course depends on your preferences, provides an unwelcome distraction.
So in that vein, as much as I try to avoid doing it anyway, I struggle to imagine Queen’s Brian May honing both his songwriting and lovemaking skills to the soundtrack of Etta James, Serge Gainsbourg or James Brown.
No, if I really had to characterise the early stages of Brian May’s romantic life – once again, I cannot believe I am writing this sentence – it would be to something more awkward, more appropriate for the wholly cumbersome experience of losing your virginity.
“I don’t think I’ve ever bonked to a Queen song,” May thankfully assured us first of all, when asking about the suitability of the band’s music in the bedroom, before rather unthankfully sharing, “I think my first sexual experience was actually to The Hollies‘ first album, which I will never forget.”
The question of whether or not you should forget your virginity is largely a 50-50 process. For some, and it sounds like for May, it’s a sacred experience that offers a sentimental memory. For others, it’s clunky, riddled with insecurity and hosting absolutely none of the romance it realistically should.
But in the spirit of moving variables from the whole process, I can tell you two things with 100% assurance. I will never listen to The Hollies again and that, like May, but not for the same reasons, I too will sadly never be able to forget this article.
