Friday, December 12, 2008

Let me Tellier all about it

It’s not hard to expect Sebastien Tellier will assist you in getting tail. And I’m not saying it's for the first time in a long dry spell, I’m talking about being laid for the next 72 hours. I’m talking about dusting off the record player and closing the blinds for a few days. I’m talking about phenomenal neon cosmic orgasms and body melds like you’re fucking in a waffle-maker.

Mezzanine played host to the beginning of my Sexuality-inspired weekend with a man that is personified by the essence of pillowtalk foreplay and 80’s soft touch porno-pop-sex. As I slowly unzipped and opened myself up to new things, I heard men croon more than women, experienced wasted 20-something hipsters overexaggerate their relationship insecurities with “just pull out” inhibitions, all the while watching Mezzanine turn into a French bisexual disco Jacuzzi cootie party.

I don’t speak the French language, but I’ve always secretly wanted to be French. Screw Sylvester the Skunk, I’m the pastel blazer-wearing, true school electroblazing, Filipino version of Don Johnson from Miami Vice…but I’d have a Tagalog/French accent - find me as the token bad guy in the next Bond movie.

The song that really hit the G-spot at the Mezz show was “Kilometer” - filtered Korg synths missionary-style over Miami callgirl sex moans is WAY more amazing than His & Her KY Jelly.

Don’t get me wrong, the beard and Jesus locks make Tellier looks like The Dude or Tommie Sunshine; not so much the ideal “take me home cause I’m naughty type.” But game recognizes game, and even though Jenz thinks I’m lothario, Tellier's solar-shield sunglasses and charming French tickler persona gave me lockjaw. During track “L’amour et la violence,” I swear it felt like I was in the middle of a Power Exchange orgy. If you’ve ever been into American Apparel, where Tellier has his own line of V-neck hipster sex shirts, then you know what I’m talking about.

I’ve had Sexuality ebbing from my apartment since I got home Thursday night, and I’m sure I’ll be getting noise complaints from the landlord about how much my bed squeaks. The only time I saw the sun was when I turned on the weather channel to try and drown out my own verses to “Une Heure.”

Show review by Ryan Rosario

Photo thru Google

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