The Musician Factor: man emotion

What is it about musicians?

As I write this, I’m sitting in a tiny room, surrounded by instruments and coffee cups and crumpled paper a few people practicing for an upcoming show. I’m here because I have to be—an end of the school year stage managing gig—but now that a few of the dudes in this place have opened up their mouths and started singing, I no longer mind the cramped space and the fact that every time someone opens the door they slam me and my chair and my left arm. Really fucking hard.

The boys in question, singing in perfect harmony as I put these words down, are not exactly the hottest things I’ve ever seen. I mean, they’re not bad. One of them is actually a little bit famous, but it’s not because of his slightly nondescript face and strange habit of squinting whenever he hits high notes.

It’s because he’s a musician.

It’s the Musician Factor.

Dudes who wouldn’t turn your head in a crowd suddenly become hotter than the desert sun with a guitar in their hands. Even slightly ugly guys morph into an extremely do-able fantasy when they get in front of a mic and start belting out sexy tunes.

As someone who’s spent most of her teens and twenties around musicians, I’ve had some time to think about it (as well as some time to date them. Which isn’t so important except for the singular thing I’ve learned and wish to pass on: many, without their trusty instrument, will undoubtedly slide back into unattractive land. Every time). If you want my honest opinion, the Musician Factor is about more than mad guitar or drum skills (although those things don’t hurt). It’s about words and emotions.

“Love”, “forever”, “I need you”, “my heart”…such is the language of the musician. A singer will utter words like these (perhaps even these specific 4 in a single sentence) many times over the course of a set. They’ll utter them and embody them, throwing their entire being into the lyrics. Sometimes they’ll mean the words so deeply that they’ll close their eyes, or grab the microphone, or pick a trembling lady out of the crowd and pierce her with their wounded, emotional eyes.

And so it goes. And the set ends. And women trudge back to the men in their lives, living weeks or even months without hearing a sentence resembling anything close to “baby, you’re all that I need”. And so maybe they get lonely. And so they turn on the radio or click on the Ipod, and sink back into the sultry, arousing voice of someone who isn’t afraid of wearing their heart on their sleeve.

And that, friends, is the Musicians Factor.

We love these men because they’re the fantasy. It’s not just because they’re talented, it’s because they tell us what we want to hear in song after song. He knows me, we think. He understands what’s going on in my heart! He’s sensitive! He must be! See how he’s grabbing the mic and crying?!

Something about that rush of Man Emotion makes us forget that the dude we’re mooning over isn’t really that cute. Something about seeing them cry, or pause in the middle of a song to take a shaky breath, makes us blind to the fact that a guy who cries all the time is sorta wimpy. Listening to them scream in tight leather pants somehow makes us believe that tight leather pants on guys is okay. It’s the Musician Factor. Which is Man Emotion.

Until everyday guys start writing love poetry on a weekly basis (which would make them stalkers. Admit it.), dudes like John Mayer and Mick Jagger will remain hot. Justin Timberlake is never going to be a slightly skinny guy with a girl voice, and women everywhere are going to ignore the fact that James Blunt is fugtastically fugly. Man Emotion trumps everything.

I’d get more detailed on you, but the guy next to me is starting to sing about how I’m the sexiest woman in the world. I mean…the song’s not really about me. I’m just pretending it is.

And believing every word.