Kings Of Leon - Sex On Fire

Ever since I was a teenager I’ve always fallen asleep with the radio on. Listening to the music especially if it’s a slow song or jazz always made it easier to relax. At 33, I still fall asleep with the radio on sometimes I’ll play Sade, Maxwell, Nora Jones, or Roxy Music. Some nights I fall in and out of sleep and others I am staring at the ceiling or across the room at Grace Jone’s Island Life album hanging on the wall. One sleepless night where I was alternating between staring at the ceiling and Grace Jones my mind was loaded with images of seeing my youngest uncle in a casket, (He died at thirty-eight.), my former best friend Shawn, who has not spoken to me in three years, and my most recent ex Ben, who I was still in love with him. The thought of going to bed alone each night felt like someone inside my chest was twisting my heart wringing it out like it was a wet towel. I had to keep reminding myself that things will get better, that I will not always feel like this. Yet, these thoughts didn’t bring me any relief.

            At 3AM for about a month in a swirl of all my worries I would hear this song. I was still sleeping on one side of the bed and although I had changed the sheets I could still smell the ivory soap scent my ex would leave. My tossing and turning got so bad that I lined the bed with two medium sized pillows, on his side of the bed, something to resemble a body next to me, something to snuggle against in hopes of falling asleep. It worked and sleep would come for a couple of hours until 3AM, when I roll over and realize he wasn’t there. Fully awake hearing this song. The opening guitar chords faint in the background and the sound of Caleb’s gritty vocals caught my attention. Curled against the pillows I listened to the song I realized that I have yet to have a man to give me the experience this song speaks of. All this yearning for Ben wasn’t about him it was more about yearning for the carnal connection something that I never got from him. As the last bits of the song played through the low hum of my stereo speakers I realized that I wasted too many days, hours, minutes, thinking about things and people I can’t change. In those early morning hours I dosed off with phrase ‘Sex on Fire’ lingering in my head and a new purpose of moving on to a new more passionate love something better, something more fulfilling.

the cult - fire woman

This song was my introduction to the Cult. During my teen years, I would hear this song on the radio or see the video on MTV or VH-1. Seeing Ian Astbury’s long, straight black hair flowing behind him when he ran around the stage made my heart beat faster I was mesmerized. I’ve read articles about raw sexual energy of Led Zeppelin’s Robert Plant or The Doors’ Jim Morrison and the way women in the crowd would go crazy. I never understood this until I heard this song and saw the video. There was just something animalistic about Ian’s voice the way he moved that awakened ‘the woman in me.’
Those feelings associated with the song didn’t make much sense until I graduated college and was living in my first apartment and discovering all what Cambridge, MA had to offer. One of my roommates was a music critic for The Weekly Dig, a local alternative weekly. When he came to look over our love of music and our obsession with buying CD’s and accumulating and expanding our pop culture knowledge. With his access to local music clubs and knowledge of the Boston music scene, I got into a lot of shows, met a lot of musicians, and even had a couple of crushes on some on the musicians.
One night while out with my roommate we were leaving TT the Bears, a local rock club in Cambridge and not too far from our apartment and decided to stop and get a something to eat at Hi-Fi Pizza, one of the few places in our Central Square neighborhood that was open. While eating a slice one of the musicians I had met walked by the Hi-Fi storefront window, saw me and walked into the pizza place. I was sitting at the table with my roommate and M walked in and sat across from me. He told he was at the Middle East, which was right next door to TT’s. At first, I didn’t realize he was flirting with me. It wasn’t until a young, gay couple fresh from a night of clubbing complimented me on my high cheekbones and beautiful smile and told M and my roommate I was ‘the prettiest thing in here.’ M agreed and asked for my phone number.
Later on that week, M and I spent the night discussing music in my apartment. We proceeded to my bedroom and on my bed was a bunch of CD’s. I was in the middle of alphbatizing them before M came over.
“Wow, you like the Cult.” He said. He picked the CD up as I gathered the rest of them and put them on the floor.
We had a great time that night discussing music and how it applies to our life and became good friends. We even went to see the Cult in concert. Every time I hear the song it reminds me of that night at Hi-Fi pizza when M made me realize that I am very sexy woman, a firewoman. Whenever I feel down or have a bad body image day I listen to that sond to lift my spirits. To hear Ian growl, “Firewoman, you’re to blame’ reminds me that sexiness comes in many forms and you never know what form of sexiness will overpower someone.