Too Sexy for My Accordion
The Source
Finally . . . a scientific study that doesn’t depress me. It seems as if every time something gets analyzed I lose. If there’s a food I like then researchers somewhere will discover it’s harmful. When I buy a car it’s the first to be recalled, and whenever I plan a trip the State Department will almost immediately list my destination as one of the most dangerous places to travel. So when a study was announced last week indicating that women find musicians more sexy than the non-musical male I was . . . well . . . delighted. I don’t claim to understand it. From a biological perspective, women should be attracted to a man with a gene pool that might be able to clobber saber tooth tigers or make fire my rubbing mastodons together. Music doesn’t seem to have such a practical purpose. Geoffrey Miller of the University of New Mexico says the female affinity for musicians may have something to do with the peacock’s tail. It has no survival value but it’s great for attracting attention. He says that back in our cave days the ability to smear a bit of color on the wall and paint a buffalo indicated that the man might have a bit of flair and if he could hum a tune then perhaps he could help babysit the little cave kids. Also, the part of the brain that determines musical ability is right next to the lobe that . . . uh. . . makes another kind of music entirely. I’ll quit there. It is interesting to note, however, that classical orchestras are “manned” mostly by males and that females tend to sit closer to the orchestra. Personally, I can’t think about this when I’m playing music onstage and the front two rows are filled with females. I fear I’ll forget the words to the song. Perhaps it’s a matter of confidence. It takes a certain amount of nerve to stand in front of people and perform in any manner and musicians must do that if they want to be heard. A guy’s guitar may symbolize some sort of courage and bravado although I can remember playing in a few smoky barrooms where my fellow musicians were of no help at all when the fighting broke out. In fact, drummers were almost always the first to run out the back door, although in many musical circles it’s a stretch to label them as actual musicians. I suppose that the proof of any theory is in the pudding of experience so I asked myself if I’d ever noticed any rise in feminine excitement when I sat down to play the piano. Frankly, I’d never even considered it until I read of the study. Now that I know I may have to give up playing entirely, unable to concentrate. But if the researchers have indeed stumbled upon something real in the world of musical masculinity, we’re left with the question….Which instruments are the sexiest? I play the piano so I conducted a quick and unscientific top-of-my-head survey. Billy Joel, Ray Charles, Count Basie . . . sexy. Yeah! Then the image of Liberace popped into my mind. Dern. Not sexy. The trumpet was a better choice. Joshua did some real damage at Jericho, no one messes with the Archangel Gabriel, and a bevy of adoring jazz lovers always surrounded Louis Armstrong. However, the advent of a couple of false upper teeth has curtailed my trumpet-puckering days and there’s something distinctly unsexy about Polident. Which made me immediately jump to my career as a banjo player. Every banjo player I ever knew was a real hunk, despite the fact that I’ve only known a couple. I play on the riverboat with a banjoist supreme. In fact, he actually plays the thing as opposed to my weak efforts to fake-plunk my way through a couple of songs. Barry is a genuine ladies’ man but I don’t know whether it was his virility that drove him to the banjo or instrument that super-charged his hormones. The banjo is a toss-up. Maybe it has something to do with how tightly it’s strung. Bringing me to the bagpipes. All I can say about the sexiness of a bagpiper is that if he’s going to walk down the street in a Highland skirt when the wind is blowing, he’d better be sexy. And finally, the accordion. Again, I ran through all the famous accordion players I could think of and came to the conclusion that Lawrence Welk was many things but no one ever mistook him for Tom Cruise. However, if the next time I break into the Lichtenstein Polka and the front row of women swoon to the floor I’ll know it wasn’t dessert that got to them.