The 15 Best Songs That Are Totally About Masturbation
Prostitution may be the oldest profession, but masturbation is the oldest pastime. And while there are many memorable cinematic masturbation scenes-a quick polling of CRACKED deskies produced titles like Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Porky's and American Beauty-only CRACKED intern Ryan Grim could come up with a single song on the topic, and he was masturbating when we asked him. In other words, the Internet could use a definitive list of songs that are totally about masturbating.
"My Ding-A-Ling"
Always went by the very best rule,
But every time the bell would ring,
You'd catch me playing with my ding-a-ling.
So many important questions are raised here. Does Berry have some sort of Pavlovian reaction whereby every time he hears a bell, he whips it out and starts going to town? If so, we're not sure that's the very best rule for grammar school, or any school for that matter. In fact, by the time senior year of high school rolled around, with it's 14 bells a day and underage freshman girls, we're guessing things got downright litigious.
On second thought, Mr. Berry did grow up in the '30s, and you know what they say about public masturbation and the Great Depression...
"Darling Nikki"
I guess you could say she was a sex friend.
I met her in a hotel lobby,
Masturbating with a magazine.
We have a feeling most of Prince's stories start out with, "So I was hanging out in the hotel lobby, when suddenly I saw a girl masturbating with a magazine." But was she actually rubbing a rolled-up Playgirl against her yodel patch, or was she merely looking at the naked dudes while fiddling herself? Prince should really clarify these things in the liner notes, because if ever there was a lyric that could cause confused young people to hurt themselves, this is it.
"Icicle"
I can finally rest my head.
And when they take from his body,
I think I'll take from mine instead,
Getting off, getting off while they're all downstairs.
Icicle" is our first entry from a woman and-surprise, surprise-it's Tori Amos. For some reason, she's always come off like a chronic masturbator. Maybe it's her boring, introspective music videos. Maybe it's the fact that she appears to be masturbating in at least a quarter of the images that accompany this YouTube audio clip. Or maybe it's the time she sent us that unsolicited humor submission about how she wore down the knob on her clit-hitter. Sorry, Tori, it just wasn't right for us, but feel free to contact us with any questions. And in case you're wondering how a Tori Amos song made it onto a "Best of.." anything list, the simple answer is that we were lesbians in college.
"Orgasm Addict"
But now you found out that it's a habit that sticks,
And you're an orgasm addict, you're an orgasm addict,
Sneaking in the back door with dirty magazines.
Now your mother wants to know what all those stains on your jeans.
It's no surprise that this band, named after a vibrator, penned a few ditties about pleasuring oneself. The song's titular orgasm addict is so out of control that his jeans are covered with stains, which raises an important question: If you were literally addicted to masturbation, would you really be giving your jeans an impromptu stone washing before hanging out with your mom? Wouldn't an addict be a little better at concealing it? It's not like alcoholics drink whiskey right before coming home and kissing their wives. They mix it in with their morning coffee so no one will smell it on them. Which bring us to another important question: God damn you dad, why couldn't you have just been an orgasm addict?
"Pictures of Lily"
Pictures of Lily helped me sleep at night.
Pictures of Lily solved my childhood problems.
Pictures of Lily helped me feel alright.
We're going to sidestep the obvious joke about Lily's age here, and get right down to what everyone's imagining while reading the above lyrics: Pete Townsend doing windmill strums with one arm, with his plonker stretched out in the other. Or are we the only the only ones envisioning this?
"I'm a Wanker"
Renowned throughout the land.
Everybody knows my name,
But nobody wants to shake my hand.
Tom Sizemore aside, seldom do people take such unabashed pride in spanking their dick around. Unlike Mr. Biggun, most of us would define ourselves by our profession or by our religion or as fathers or mothers. Ivor's taken a different tack here and, you know, good for him. But how does he know he's truly the best? Unlike Los Angeles youth karate tournaments or heavyweight boxing matches, rubbing oneself has no official competition or governing body. Ivor sound like he knows what he's doing, but until he proves it in organized competition, CRACKED will have to continue recognizing the monkey in this video as the official champ. We suspect that the Wall Street Journal will take the same position.
"St. Swithin's Day"
When I make love to your memory,
It's not the same.
I miss the thunder,
I miss the rain.
For everyone's favorite socialist troubadour Billy Bragg, masturbating and bad weather seem inextricably linked. Funny, for us, it's always been attractive women that aren't wearing many clothes. But whatever you're into, Bill. (And since you should never have to think about some people masturbating, we've embedded a video of an attractive woman named Sarah Blackwood singing the song instead of Mr. Bragg.)
"Dancing With Myself"
In the crowded lonely night,
Well I wait so long,
For my love vibration,
And I'm dancing with myself.
This song could actually be about dancing with oneself. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. But Billy Idol is such a jerk-off, and "love vibration" is such a lame phrase, that it's almost definitely about jerking off. Fun Fact: while this song was ironic in the '80s when Billy Idol could get laid easier than he could get groceries, it's lyrics, sadly, are true now-Billy Idol spends most days dancing around his one-bedroom apartment naked, jacking off once or twice an hour. Life really imitates art, doesn't it?
"The Keys to Her Ferrari"
As I kicked those 500 Italian horses into life and left reality behind me.
50, 60, 70 miles an hour,
My hand slipped inside the belt of my trousers,
As we hit 80, 90 miles an hour,
And as we passed the magic100 my love exploded,
All over her bright pink leather interior,
And at that moment, I thought of my mother.
There's a lot going on here, and we're not exactly sure what to make of any of it. To begin with, when sexually aroused, Mr. Dolby experiences little rivers running down his inseam. So, does that mean he has a vagina? Does it mean he pees his pants a little bit when faced with the prospect of sexual gratification? Also of note, Dolby seems to have a fetish similar to that of the car crash-obsessed characters in David Cronenberg's Crash. Only instead of twisted metal, Dolby's jibblies get worked up at the thought of exceeding 100 mph. This guy must be a mess on commercial airlines.
"Blister in the Sun"
Let me go on, big hands I know your the one.
Body and beats, I stain my sheets,
I don't even know why.
If you're getting blisters, you're kneading your ham way too much. And if you're doing it out in the sun, there's a pretty good chance people can see you. In both cases, you've most likely got a problem. The band has recently claimed "Blister in the Sun" is really about a girl who likes big hands. So the "beats/stained sheets" rhyming couplet is, apparently, about making a salad in bed.
"Praying Hands"
You got your right hand,
The left hand's diddling,
While the right hand goes to work.
Ah yes, the ol' ambidextrous method (known to us as the Danny Tanner). We can only assume these kooky Ohioans are referring to the practice of cupping the moneybag with one hand while the other hand earns the paycheck. We're not sure if this means that it's cool to masturbate at work or not, but we're pretty certain that it's not the best idea to take sex-ed advice from grown men who wear flowerpots on their heads.
"Turning Japanese"
I'd like a million of you all round my cell.
I want a doctor to take your picture,
So I can look at you from inside as well.
You've got me turning up and turning down,
And turning in and turning 'round.
I'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese.
The great song from the new wave era mixes excessive masturbation and racial insensitivity into one incredibly creepy, undeniably catchy stew. The title implies that too much hand-shandy will leave you squinting like a stereotypical Japanese person-it sounds like the Vapors' parents and our parents read the same pamphlet, "Ways to Scare Your Constantly Masturbating American Child." The way we always chose to look at it: if you punish your baby ferret enough, you can learn a new language.
"She Bop"
Because I can't stop messin' with the danger zone.
No, I won't worry, and I won't fret,
Ain't no law against it yet.
Oop, she bop, she bop.
Until our slumber party concept album is released next month, this will be the catchiest song about girlie masturbation. But however catchy, Cyndi Lauper better make sure she explains to the chaperone that one of his duties will be prying her hands out of her vagina, because that's not usually under a chaperone's purview. In addition to introducing us to the existence of chaperones that forcibly stopped masturbation, "She Bop" also introduced us to the phrase "danger zone," which is used to refer to a lady area. Wait, does that mean that the song "Highway to the Danger Zone" is about traveling to a girl's Christian spot? Because we find it hard to believe that Kenny Loggins would want to be anywhere near a human vagina.
"I Touch Myself"
I don't want anybody else,
And when I think about you I touch myself.
Ooh, ooh, ooh, aah.
Whereas most songs about solo sex depend on euphemisms and innuendo, this band of Aussies pretty much says it like it is. And as the '80s documentary Crocodile Dundee demonstrated, there's nothing Aussies do better than shoot from the hip. It's like DiVinyls listened to all the other songs on this list and said, "That's not a song about masti-bayshoon-this is a song about masti-bayshoon." On a side note, where are all of the Australian dudes who kill Crocodiles and make pithy comments about the backwards nature of American life? All the ones we meet seem more interested in having gelled hair and engaging us in drunken conversations about extreme sports.
"Pump It Up"
Hell bent or heaven sent,
Listen to the propaganda,
Listen to the latest slander.
There's nothing underhand,
That she wouldn't understand.
Pump it up until you can feel it.
Pump it up when you don't really need it.
See, even one of rock's smartest songwriters has written lyrics about this base subject. The reason being that like war, politics and two-person love, masturbation has been ubiquitous in music ever since humans decided to invent it. Though our Latin may be a little shaky, the last term we heard the 1,200-year-old Gregorian Chant, we're pretty sure the phrase "flogging the dolphin" was in there somewhere.
