KamaSutronics

It’s called “synesthesia” when your senses blend together.  You can taste music, or feel a smell, or hear a color.  These are beautiful strange moments.  A song might glow like a bright white light with darker green edges; a lover’s touch could become a deep note held for a long time.

That’s synesthesia.

For a while now I’ve been working on a music system.  I call it the Synestheatre.  The idea is simple: I want to play music for a woman so that she hears it and sees it and feels it, all through her body.  Lie on your back, close your eyes, and let the music play you.

The Synestheatre plays music as color in your eyes, as electricity in your cunt and ass and on your nipples, as vibration on your clit and as massage on your back.The women who’ve tried the Synestheatre so far have loved it.  They’ve encountered some internal conflict, feeling like they’re supposed to be working towards orgasms; but after a while, they realize that the Synestheatre isn’t about getting off — it’s about experiencing the music.  Seeing, hearing, feeling music. You don’t just listen to the music; the music fucks you.

At first I chose songs that were moody, erotic, tinged with a hint of musk and the Bedouin sunset, pounding to sweaty, irresistible rhythms that throb along the dance floor. Dead Can Dance; Lisa Gerrard’s voice wailing lullaby.

And the women loved that.

They loved lying back while the music brought them into an erotic waking dream with colored lights dancing in their eyes, sensation throughout the body.

But I wanted to engage on levels that were different from an erotic waking dream.

I want women to experience music that brings back memories of Prom Night.  I want songs to make them laugh or remind them of childhood or piss them off.  I want nostalgia and humor and outrage.  I want the music to keep them engaged.  Song after song, I want the Synestheatre to keep women entertained, stimulated, amused, aroused, singing along, and wondering what the hell I’m going to play next.  Am I going to take you to Funky Town?  Will you let me be misunderstood?  What are sweet dreams made of?  Do I have another riddle for you?

Disco?  Tango by Astor Piazzolla?  Minnie the Moocher?  Vanilla Ice?  The Barbarella soundtrack?  A grunge cover of the Lollipop song? Oh lolly, lollipop, :: pop! ::

“Oh my god, did that singer just say, ‘I don’t care if you’re a Pisces or a Taurus, just so long as you’re hung like a brontosaurus’?”

“Is that the Gummy Bear song?  In German?”

“You — asshole!  Keeping me so turned on while playing theme songs from Fox News!”

“Hey, I used to play that song when I was a church organist!  That’s just not right!”

Funny or dark or sexy songs, songs with lyrics that stimulate the mind, songs indelibly tied to a moment in our lives, unexpected songs likely to stir emotions.

A playlist that lasts all night and never runs out of surprises.  Great songs, funny songs, sad songs, political songs, themes from tv and the movies, songs that are likely to be associated with memory and emotion.  The only requirements are a strong beat, varied volume and frequency, and distinct stereo signals.

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It started with a Nova Pro 100. The Nova Pro’s a light-and-sound machine, a mind machine: it’s a device invented by quirky, obsessed people constantly on the lookout for the next altered state. Put on the special glasses and close your eyes for the AudioStrobe.

Four LED lights pulse in each eye, just bright enough to glow through the closed eyelid.  People find this relaxing; they frequently describe it as “psychedelic.”  The lights pulse to the beat of the music, left eye corresponding with left ear, right eye corresponding with right ear.

I use ColorTrack glasses, so the color corresponds to the music’s frequency; the lights play blue colors for bass, green colors for mid-range, red colors for treble.  The colors also follow the stereo split, playing a different color in each eye to correspond with the music in each ear.

The Synestheatre plays music as color in your eyes.

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There’s a kind of TENS unit called an ErosTek 312.  If you haven’t had a chance to experience a TENS unit before, you might be surprised at the variety of feelings they can generate.  One setting will produce biting, shrieking pain that smells like ammonia, another setting will produce a tingling, erotic sensation that glows a luminous cobalt blue.

The ErosTek 312 has a setting that will play music as electricity.

Run an audio cable to the front of the electric box, and it will produce a tingling sensation that pulses to the beat of the music, growing stronger as the music gets louder, weaker when the music is quiet.

I use a short, thick electrified dildo to play music in the cooch, and a narrow electrified plug to play music in the ass.  Electrical current in the ass causes the sphincter to contract and release, contract and release.  I’ve been told that the sensation is similar to anal sex.  Buttfucking via ghost.

I have two 312s, and I use the second one with a suction pump and a pair of electrified nipple suckers.  I’m really happy with the nipple trodes — they suck in the titflesh before they zap it.  Suction makes the nips more sensitive, and then the nipple trodes shock the tits in time to the music, getting stronger to correspond with the music’s volume.

The Synestheatre plays music as electricity in your cunt and ass and on your nipples.

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The OhMiBod is a vibrator that plays music as vibration.  It keeps the beat of the music, and it gets stronger where the music is louder.
I hold the OhMiBod against the clit, using a microphone stand with a boom arm.

The Synestheatre plays music as vibration on your clit.

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The Homedics iCush is a motorized massage cushion.  It massages to the beat of the music, and its intensity corresponds to the volume of the music.  Lie down and have the rhythms rumble through you, your back and your ass.  Shake to every beat.

The Synestheatre plays music as massage on your back.

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I’ve been known to play along, drumming the female flesh with my hands or a pair of wire-brush drumsticks.  It’s more enjoyable than air-guitar.

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Tonight the dancing girl won’t dance.  She skipped the crowded dancefloor, the DJs, the rhythms that melt into a fuzzy throbbing.  Music has moved her every night since she turned 21.  Music draws her to the bathroom mirror, a sacrificial victim painting her face with fluorescents and glitter, spiking her hair, and music draws her out the door, down the staircase, to glut in the fuck of the beat, the beat, the beat, the beat.

Tonight the gogo girl won’t go.  Tonight she’s coming here instead, to Room Number 35.  Tonight she won’t just hear the music; she’ll see it, feel it.  The music will touch her.

She’s all punk rock in a vinyl frock, a creepy/elegant Suicide Girl waif, dressed up for me.  Not necessary, really, since I’m going to strip her down before I let the music fuck her.  But this is ritual, her ritual, to deck out before riding the sexual energy of the dance club or rave or house party.  Tonight it’s going to ride her like never before.

I lead her into the room.  There’s a gynecologist’s exam table in the middle of the room, covered with green crushed velvet. There are wires and tubes dangling from above.   There’s a stereo in the corner.  Music is playing, the Dresden Dolls, and the girl can’t help herself: she begins to move to the music.

Coin
Operated boy

I can hardly wait.  It’s better than the movies.  Her own private lightshow will trance her, colors out of dreams moving over her eyelids.  Her nipples and her cunt will tingle to the rhythm, caught up in the suction and the passion.  And the electricity.  The tingling!  Electrons dancing to the beat, the beat, the beat, the beat.

The world will move beneath her.  It will dance.  The motors of the massage cushion will throb music into her back.  The OhMiBod will vibrate music against her clit.

Massive Attack, Tricky, Portishead, Morcheeba.    Nine Inch Nails will jolt her with the cracking beats.  Hôtel Costès will get her in the slow pulse of its groove and sex her up.  Delerium’s “Karma” brings the world here, with its temple chants from India, its Muslim prayers, sensual rhythms pleading fuck, fuck, fuck.

My favorite stretch of tonight’s playlist will begin with “Tear You Apart,” by She Wants Revenge.  It’s harsh, it’s aggressive:

I want to hold you close
Skin pressed against me tight
Lie still, and close your eyes girl
So lovely, it feels so right

I want to hold you close
Soft breath, beating heart
As I whisper in your ear
I want to fucking tear you apart

And this song will end with a crossfade into the theme song from “My Little Pony.”