Face it: only douchebags still believe the typical music soundtracks of 1970's porn films are "classic." Although, since only a douchebag would watch enough actual pornography to allow himself (or herself) to eventually arrive at such a conclusion, perhaps that particular revelation is a moot one. Nevertheless, an example: I was recently watching yet another John Holmes "classic" mid-70's porn film (not for any unseemly reason. Let's just say I was...masturbating) and as soon as the screeching, thin, artless fake-funk soundtrack began to mask the fake shrieks and moans, I had to wince. It was like an un-orgasm for my ears. How did the myth that this abominable 70's music represents some sort of cultural climax come to be? Why is it still perpetuated? Was 60's porn music any good? Is 80's porn music any better? 90's porn music? 00's porn music? Do porn movies of the 00's even have music anymore?
Unsatisfied, I decided to ask the opinion of notorious guerrilla pornographer and author Sam Benjamin, who possesses a vast, throbbing brain filled with the where/when/who/why of most porn films from the second half of the 20th century, and on, and on. He's has suffered hard trench experience as an actual pornographer, pro-porn film cameraman, agency talent-scout and general entrepreneur in the brightly colored dark void that was and is the Los Angeles pornography underworld. Sam recently wrote a book about his adventures, called Confessions of an Ivy League Pornographer.
According to Sam, 80's porn video music is far superior to 70's porn film music, even though it's actually quite worse. It all has to do with context. Read on...and stick around to the end, he's brought a few audio clips for your enjoyment.







As more and more corners of the maybe-two-decades-old internet begin to get the hairy eyeball from moi, my jaded interest keeps seducing me to cruise the most public of spaces...after hours, of course. Recently, by the Flickr-ing light of a just-lit Player No. 6, I locked-gaze under the arches with the so-very alute Hilly Blue, admiring his extra-large uploaded After Dark magazine galleries. I was too young to dig this glossy bible for confirmed bachelors and their best-est inner circles in real time, but After Dark's kangblabla photo spreads — Fire Island studs unbuttoning their Eleganza in butterfly chairs, awe sooky sooky ("you're soaking in it!") zombie disco clowns walking invisible dog leashes on Nautilus treadmills, and Aspen-bound 70's Hollywood icons gazing pensively through fringe — don't need the esoteric magnetism of personal nostalgia. Gasp! It's totally restracto, dude. There's too much to highlight here, but (plucking a random selection) check out these two clams on the half shell in roller skates pictured at left; "Chris Donovan and Craig Dudley pose for photographer Jon Stevens (seen in mirror) After Dark June 1971." Strike up the band! So bone-jack...yes, for the millionth time, and feast your nostrils on Hilly Blue's enormous Flickr collection: 















