For those under the asexual umbrella — from gray-asexual to demisexual to aromantic — finding relatable music can be a challenge. Over the last decade, all kinds of songs — from Frank Ocean’s “Forrest Gump” to The Shins’ “Phantom Limb” to Taylor Swift’s “betty” — have found their way into the queer love song canon. Some of them were written for this purpose, while others were claimed as such after the fact. But despite the explosion of LGBTQIA+ representation in the music industry, there has been almost no dialogue about how asexuality is being explored — whether intentionally or through subtext — in song lyrics.
That’s why I’ve been keeping a list of songs that have strong asexual themes. This is what queer people have always done: When we can’t find adequate representation within art, we take stories told by artists — especially songwriters — and translate them into our own life experiences.
In October 2020, to mark Asexual Awareness Week, I made a video essay about the songs I had found so far. Artists like Bradford Cox from Deerhunter and Virginia-based indie pop singer-songwriter Dearlie were obvious candidates for my list, because they are two of the only well-known openly asexual musicians. But when you listen closely, you can find hints of asexuality in lots of music, which is how songs like Billy Idol’s “Dancing With Myself” end up becoming unofficial ace anthems — and how songs like Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” and Liz Phair’s “Polyester Bride” ended up on my ace playlist. Since there are very few songs out there that address asexuality explicitly, asexual people are often left to read their own experiences into the music they consume. This piece will look at each of these songs through an asexual lens.
In honor of the ace community, who are just as deserving of love and representation as everybody else, I expanded my initial list of ten to make a new playlist. Here are fourteen songs that folks on the asexual spectrum can enjoy:
“Agoraphobia” by Deerhunter
Bradford Cox, frontman of the acclaimed indie rock band Deerhunter, is one of only a handful of visible ace musicians, and he has spoken openly about being a gay man who also happens to be asexual. “To be asexual is very confusing. And a lot of people are mistreated who are asexual, because I don't think people really believe in asexuality,” Cox told Savages’ Jehnny Beth on her Beats 1 radio show, “Start Making Sense.” In his song “Agoraphobia,” Cox expresses a desire to leave his own body, with lyrics like: “I want only to see / Four walls made of concrete / I want to fade away, away.” They reflect how overwhelming it can feel to be an asexual person trapped in a physical body, living in an overtly physical and sexual world.
“Wolf” by Marika Hackman
English alternative folk singer Marika Hackman is known for stripped-down melodies and melancholy lyrics that unravel layers of vulnerability. Her music also explores the complexities of her lived experience as an out queer woman. Hackman’s 2013 song “Wolf” evokes feelings of distress and antagonism — familiar sensations for those who are forced to navigate the world while constantly feeling isolated, which unfortunately includes many in the ace community. “Beware,” she utters, almost begrudgingly, in the pre-chorus, “I’m not all there.” As an asexual person, the line “the folding of your skin is making me feel queasy” is an incredibly striking lyric about feeling uncomfortable with physical touch.
“A Pearl” by Mitski
Mitski is one of the most prolific indie songwriters chronicling the complexities of identity, desire, and angst. She flexed her poetic muscles writing about adolescent malaise on her breakout albums Bury Me at Makeout Creek and Puberty 2, but it was with her 2018 album Be the Cowboy that Mitski really hit her songwriting stride. “A Pearl,” a single on that album, tells the story of two lovers running into a conflict that stems from the narrator’s emotional unavailability. But with lyrics like, “Sorry I don’t want your touch / It’s not that I don’t want you,” this song can easily be claimed as an asexual anthem.
“It’s Only Sex” by Car Seat Headrest
Ever since Car Seat Headrest — Will Toledo’s bedroom Bandcamp project turned five-piece indie rock band — signed to Matador Records, they have gained an explosive following comparable to their ’90s indie predecessors, Pavement. On the song “It’s Only Sex” off their 2013 EP Living While Starving, the narrator expresses a desire to feel close to their partner without having to engage in sexual intercourse: “Just to see you / It’s such a treasure / But when I feel you / My flesh yields no pleasure.” The song is a testament to the often-ignored fact that romantic intimacy in relationships doesn’t always have to be physical. Toledo even references asexuality by name in a lyric about reading sex blogs.
“Ladykillers” by Lush
Lush was one of the first British rock bands in the ’90s to be labeled “shoegaze” due to their pedal-heavy, dream pop-oriented sound. However, the band’s third album, Lovelife, abandoned their earlier shoegaze style in favor of a more classic rock and Britpop-inspired aesthetic. On the song “Ladykillers,” frontwoman Miki Berenyi regales the listener with stories of chatty, overzealous male suitors whose advances she takes great pleasure in rejecting in favor of going home alone. “I don’t need your practiced lines, your school of charm mentality,” she smirks over a killer guitar riff. Confidently choosing solo time? We love to see it!
“Polyester Bride” by Liz Phair
A “polyester bride” is a derogatory term that refers to a woman who marries more than once. In her song of the same name, Liz Phair deconstructs the smirking misogyny behind that antiquated label, and paints a picture of herself unloading her relationship baggage in a conversation with a bartender. In the lyrics, she expresses that she has never truly felt happy or satisfied in any of her past relationships (“And I asked Henry my bartending friend / Why it is that there are those kind of men”). This song feels asexual because it often takes more effort for ace folks to find a partner who supports and affirms them in their identity.
“Connection” by Elastica
Elastica was one of the few Britpop bands to secure a spot on the U.S. charts with their 1994 single “Connection.” As an asexual person, this song will always have a special place in my heart. The refrain goes, “I don’t understand how a heart is a spade / But somehow the vital connection is made.” Asexual folks often use symbols on a deck of cards to signify their orientations on the spectrum — ace of spades is the symbol that represents asexual aromantics — so if a person happens to reference a spade while singing about intimacy, that is peak ace culture.
“Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)” by Kate Bush
Kate Bush’s classic power ballad about being at odds with a romantic partner feels appropriate for this list because, at the very core of the song, the narrator begs their partner for empathy and understanding (“And if I only could / I’d make a deal with God / And get him to swap our places.”) People on the asexual spectrum often have to constantly reassert the fact that their identity is not an anomaly, not just with romantic partners, but with anyone in their lives who doesn’t understand their identity as well. That can lead you to wish you could swap places with people so that they could understand that being asexual is legitimate.
“Dry” by PJ Harvey
Throughout her career, PJ Harvey tackled subjects like body dysmorphia, penis envy, and witchcraft. In other words, she’s never been afraid to sing about topics that puritanical Western culture considers taboo. The song “Dry” is quite self-explanatory. Repeating “You leave me dry,” three times in a row, the narrator is not afraid to let her partner know that they are failing to please her. Whether it be an issue in technique, a commentary on the selfishness of male sexual gratification, or the narrator simply coming to the realization that sexual intercourse might not be for her, these lyrics are pretty on-the-nose for many asexual listeners.
“Andromeda” by Weyes Blood
Asexual people often deal with infantilizing comments from people who tell them that they will eventually meet someone who will “change their mind” or that they’re “missing out.” On the song “Andromeda” from her 2019 album Titanic Rising, psychedelic folk artist Natalie Mering, frontwoman of the band Weyes Blood, uses Greek mythology as a metaphor for unrealistic romantic expectations. In the lyrics, Mering disputes the archaic idea that single women need to be “saved” by “the right man”: “If you think you can save me, I dare you to try.” Asexual people don’t need “saving”; they need understanding.
“Sex Without Stress” by Au Pairs
The short-lived British post-punk band Au Pairs was never afraid to delve into gender and sexual politics. Their song “Sex Without Stress” questions the inescapable pervasiveness of hypersexualized Western culture and the inherent link between sex and capitalism (“You see it all on the TV screen or read it in a magazine”). With lyrics that inquire, “Would you like to express your sex without stress? / Would you like to discover physical conversations of different kinds?” the song makes an important point that asexual folks continue to highlight: Sexual activity isn’t the only way to express intimacy and there’s no need to feel pressure to engage in it.
“Dark Red” by Steve Lacy
Lo-fi musician Steve Lacy — whose work spans the fields of indie rock, hip hop, and neo soul — is one of today’s most innovative artists. He cut his teeth playing in hip hop and R&B collectives like Odd Future and The Internet before working with the likes of Vampire Weekend. But Lacy has truly come into his own as a Grammy-nominated solo artist. On his 2017 single, “Dark Red,” Lacy pleads to a lover, “Don’t you give me up, please don’t give up,” over a funky bassline. This type of rumination on impending relationship doom is a feeling that is all-too familiar for ace folks, many of whom fear their partners will “give them up” after they disclose the fact that they are asexual.
“Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division
Ian Curtis, the front man of the moody post-punk band Joy Division, wrote the now-legendary hit “Love Will Tear Us Apart” about his tenuous marriage and the fractured long-distance relationship he had with his wife and daughter while he was on tour. The repetitive refrain, “Love, love will tear us apart, again,” was a reference to the Captain & Tennille song “Love Will Keep Us Together,” flipping the statement on its head. This bouncy song with grim lyrics hits hard for people who fall in love with partners they aren’t compatible with, especially if asexuality ends up being the dealbreaker.
“All I Need” by My Bloody Valentine
Shoegaze legends My Bloody Valentine were pioneers who banged out aggressive walls of noise and instrumental distortion that beautifully mirrored sensitive lyrics about slow-burning desire and sexual angst. “All I Need” from their debut album Isn’t Anything is a song with lyrics that don’t exactly tell a linear story or even make much sense at all, which is a trademark of My Bloody Valentine’s writing. But lyrics like “No need to say how close can we lie” suggest a withdrawal from physical intimacy that strongly evokes asexuality.
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