Don’t go out with women who expect to get money,
Though they may act sweet and call you “honey”.
I wouldn’t make a habit of datin’ her none,
Even if she’s cute and a whole lot of fun.
There’s not much more to relate;
These are inappropriate women to date. – Chip Wilson
One year ago today I published “A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody”, the first of three columns featuring the lyrics of (and links to) songs about prostitutes; it was followed by a second part the next day, and by “Sweet Painted Ladies” on October 25th. And since it’s been a while since we visited the theme, I thought another collection of whore songs might be welcome. As I pointed out last year, “Since most songwriters are male, most of these songs are of course from the male point of view; we’ll start with the two exceptions in observance of the ‘ladies first’ principle.”
Private Dancer (Mark Knopfler)
All the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don’t look at their faces
And you don’t ask their names
You don’t think of them as human
You don’t think of them at all
You keep your mind on the money
Keeping your eyes on the wall
(refrain) I’m your private dancer, a dancer for money
I’ll do what you want me to do
I’m your private dancer, a dancer for money
And any old music will do
I want to make a million dollars
I wanna live out by the sea
Have a husband and some children
Yeah, I guess I want a family
All the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don’t look at their faces
And you don’t ask their names
(refrain)
Deutch marks or dollars
American Express will do nicely, thank you
Let me loosen up your collar
Tell me, do you wanna see me do the shimmy again?
(refrain)
(refrain)
This song was written in 1982 by Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits for their album Love Over Gold, but after the music was recorded he realized it would be deeply inappropriate for a male to sing the lyrics and so the song sat unused until remade by Dire Straits for Tina Turner’s comeback album in 1984. Though the song (like the musical Sweet Charity before it) uses taxi dancing as a metaphor for prostitution, I daresay few listeners over the age of 15 needed to be told what the song was really about, and the video hints at it even more strongly. Turner’s world-weary whore who gets through her days by dehumanizing her customers stands in stark contrast to Cher’s character from this rare single:
A Woman’s Story (Nino Tempo, April Stevens and Phil Spector)
There are many who have laid with me
Then got up and walked away from me
And played around with me, like I was a game
Every night was a one night fling
And when I’d given them everything
They never even asked me for my name
Yeah, they never even asked me for my name
Now I found real love! Make no mistake about it
‘Cause now that I feel love
I just can’t live without it!
So if you love me the way I love you
Why can’t we spend our lives as one
My reputation was all over town
As a woman who was passed around
And I knew every wrong way to go
Seen every room with a bed inside it
And if you’ve had nothing tried, I tried it
But from now on I say, hell no!
Oh, from now on I say, hell no!
Oh!, now that I found love! I just can’t live without it!
Now that I feel love, make no mistake about it!
So if you love me the way I love you
Why can’t we spend our lives as one
While the wish of Turner’s character for a husband and children seems about as likely to be granted as her wish for a million dollars, Cher’s character believes she has found true love and is willing to bring up the subject to her beloved. And perhaps she’ll succeed; unlike Turner’s character she has never reduced her clients to faceless, inhuman sources of income. If anything, she seems grievously wounded by the fact that many of her customers appear to have dehumanized her. This song was produced for Cher by Phil Spector for what was to be her first post-Sonny Bono album, but due to cost overruns the project was shelved in favor of the less expensively produced Stars (1975). “A Woman’s Story” was released as a single, but did not chart and is now extraordinarily difficult to find.
The subject matter of the next song, a #1 hit from October of 1978, is just as dark as that of the first two, but told from the client’s point of view and cloaked in a catchy pop style; lyrics in parentheses are sung by the backup singers.
Hot Child in the City (Nick Gilder)
Danger in the shape of something wild
Stranger dressed in black, she’s a hungry child
No one knows who she is or what her name is
I don’t know where she came from or what her game is
(refrain) Hot child in the city
Hot child in the city
Runnin’ wild and looking pretty
Hot child in the city
So young to be loose and on her own
Young boys, they all want to take her home
And when she comes downtown
The boys all stop and stare
When she comes downtown
She walks like she just don’t care, yeah
(refrain)
Come on down to my place, baby
We’ll talk about love
Come on down to my place, woman
We’ll make love
Hot child in the city
(Hot child in the city)
She’s kinda dangerous
(Hot child in the city)
Young child
(Runnin’ wild and lookin’ pretty)
Young child, runnin’ wild
(Hot child in the city)
Hot child in the city
(Hot child in the city)
(Hot child in the city)
(Hot child in the city)
Hot child in the city
(Hot child in the city)
Hot child in the city
(Hot child in the city)
It is difficult to imagine a song about an underage streetwalker making it to the top of the charts in 2011, unless it was sung as a lugubrious ballad by a pop diva who spelled out its exact meaning in every single interview and parroted inane “300,000 trafficked children” drivel as part of the sales pitch. But in 1978, the very oldest Baby Boomers were only 30 and hadn’t started taking themselves so seriously yet. Lest you think the audiences simply didn’t realize what it was about, I assure you that most of my friends certainly did (a couple of years later one of them used to tease me about my budding whorishness by singing it to me), and Nick Gilder stated it point-blank in a Rolling Stone interview.
The subject matter of our last selection for today wasn’t quite so obvious; even in 1973 most radio stations might’ve been reluctant to play it as often as they did had they realized it was an ode to a brothel.
La Grange (Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill & Frank Beard)
Rumor spreadin’ a-’round in that Texas town
’bout that shack outside La Grange
And you know what I’m talkin’ about.
Just let me know if you wanna go
To that home out on the range.
They gotta lotta nice girls ah.
Have mercy.
A pow, pow, pow, pow, a pow.
A pow, pow, pow.
Well, I hear it’s fine if you got the time
And the ten to get yourself in.
A hmm, hmm.
And I hear it’s tight most ev’ry night,
But now I might be mistaken.
Hmm, hmm, hmm.
Ah have mercy.
This well-loved brothel in La Grange, Texas was of course the “Chicken Ranch”, later immortalized as the subject of the hit musical The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas; in the 1982 movie the madam was played by Dolly Parton. And this brings us full circle, because one of the songs from that musical, “Texas Has a Whorehouse In It”, was featured in my original column on this subject one year ago today.
Checking to see if I’m doing these links properly:
Cher’s version of “A Woman’s Story”
Marc Almond’s version of “A Woman’s Story”
Marc Almond is half of the seminal synth pop duo Soft Cell. Marc Almond recorded “A Woman’s Story” with the original lyrics as a female narrator, which may be an example of his vagueness about his sexual orientation.
Cher’s version of “A Woman’s Story” is the better version, IMO. I like the women’s voices in the background, conveying real sadness.
Cool! The song I most identified with, starting out was “Cross Eyed Mary” by Jethro Tull. (I was, and remain a big Jethro Tull Fan. I wasn’t in the sex biz until I was 18, but I was working underage as a waitress serving liquor.)
Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief —
If he had a rich man in his hand.
And who would steal the candy
From a laughing baby’s mouth
If he could take it from the money man.
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again.
She signs no contract
But she always plays the game.
Dines in Hampstead village
On expense accounted gruel,
And the jack-knife barber drops her off at school.
Laughing in the playground — gets no kicks from little boys:
Would rather make it with a letching grey.
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung,
Who watches through the railings as they play.
Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along.
She’s a poor man’s rich girl
And she’ll do it for a song.
She’s a rich man stealer
But her favour’s good and strong:
She’s the Robin Hood of Highgate —
Helps the poor man get along.
That was one of the songs I considered for today’s column.
Edit: I just discovered this is the 10,000th comment on my blog!
Always loved Sweet Charity, particularly Hey, Big Spender. The lyrics were written by a woman, the great Dorothy Fields (one of the best of the best).
Dean Clark
I love “Hey, Big Spender” not only for the words and music, but also because it’s one of the few songs which fits totally inside my rather limited vocal range. 🙂
Today, any hit song about prostitution would be stupidly obvious and probably have the word “ho” in it.
Suggestive music is great, but explicit lyrics are a disgusting turn off to me.
I have thought for years that there is one positive effect of censorship; it forces people to come up with clever innuendo.
In High School I worked crew on a production of Pippin. Later, I heard a recording of the original Broadway cast. It was then I discovered that, in an aside to the audience after a spectacular example of Queenly bitchiness, the King says “Sometimes I wonder if the F*cking I’m getting is worth the F*cking I’m getting.”
In our production it had been “Sometimes I wonder if the fornicating I’m getting is worth the fornicating I’m getting.”
I still think our line is better.
“So I’m drivin’ over here, and this IDIOT cuts me off. Nearly runs me off the road! So I stick my head out the window and I yell, ‘f… be fruitful and multiply!’ just not in those exact words.”
Taxi dancing?
I would love to hear your thoughts about the Box Tops song ‘Sweet Cream Ladies Forward March‘. I’ve always loved it.
A taxi dancer was a woman who danced with strange men for money (at a dance hall). Some if not most of them used the job to audition sugar daddies or just plain clients.
I wasn’t familiar with that song; thanks for calling it to my attention!
Great posting! Cher’s “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves” made a direct reference to her fictional mother as a whore.
Here’s one of my own:
My Fantasy Escort
Gawaine Caldwater Ross
In my real life I don’t appeal to women,
After humiliating privation, I now have
A fantasy escort. She isn’t only here for sex
But has her own life too, as an
Attorney for the Sierra Club. She’s
Trilingual, which means I admire her as well.
Better yet, she’s outdoorsy, and likes the
Same kind of risky behavior
As I do.
She has her own circle of friends,
And isn’t always here. But otherwise,
Every day her ethnicity is different,
Korean one day, Russian and Greek the next,
Hispanic, Swedish, Ghanian, Indian
And Native American. You can’t say
My taste is narrow.
When she comes I cook her dinner.
She comes down in short shorts and
A halter top.
Her oval face is perfectly beautiful.
She rubs my back with her unbound breasts,
I turn to kiss her fervently, and under my breath
Declare my lasting love.
We go upstairs to my bedroom
Which has a long mirror on the dresser.
She gets up on it and poses on her knees,
Side up, rear up, and on her back,
Everything doubled by the mirror.
How could she arouse me more?
We screw on the bed, moving slowly
When on her back she lifts her arms over
Her head, flat on the bed.
This sign of surrender shows me that
She trusts me totally and is most stimulating.
She puts her feet over my shoulders
And squeezes hard.
When finished she turns over
And I watch my cum drip out,
She puts it on her fingers and swallows it,
And of course we make love
Three times every night,
And no one ever tires.
I am surprised this one was not included.
The Son of Hickory Holler’s Tramp
Oh the path was deep and wide from footsteps leading to our cabin
And above the door there burned a scarlet lamp
And late at night a hand would knock and there would stand a stranger
I’m the son of Hickory Holler’s tramp
Oh the corn was dry the weeds were high when papa took the drinking
He and Lucy Walker they took up and ran away
Mama cried a tear and then she promised fourteen children
I swear you’ll never see a hungry day
When mama sacrificed her pride the neighbors started talkin’
But I was much too young to understand the things they said
The thing that mattered most of all was mama’s chicken dumplings
And the goodnight kiss before we went to bed
Oh the path was deep and wide…
[ guitar ]
When papa left then destitution came upon our family
Not one neighbor volunteered to lend a helping hand
So let them gossip all they want she loved us and she raised us
The proof is standing here the full grown man
Last summer mama passed away and left the ones who loved her
Each and every one is more than grateful for their birth
Each Sunday she receives the fresh bouquet of fourteen roses
And the card that reads the greatest mom on earth
Oh the path was deep and wide…
Yes I’m the son of Hickory Holler’s tramp
I’m going to ask this even though I don’t know how to do it in a way that has no risk of sounding offensive. I’ve occassionally read escort blogs, and I’ve been quick to pick up fakes (there was an appalling idiot under the name of “Alexa” a while back).
Now…there are these little things going off in my head that keep saying “male” to me as I read your work. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think it has something to do with just how obessive you are about the whole world and history of prostitution. I’ve met a few escorts (as a client) and they basically leave the job behind when the hotel door shuts. But you…you seem to be fixated on it, like someone who is looking in with fascination from the outside.
I’m a scientist. I like science at work, think it at home, write scientific papers. But, I don’t write a science blog. No research scientist I know does. Only graduate students and science journalists do – the ones who aren’t (or aren’t quite yet) living it.
So, no offense intended, and if my intuition is utterly skewed, I hope I am not insulting you. But can you at least understand my disquiet, and how odd this whole site seems?
You’re right, it does sound offensive, and yes I find your accusation highly insulting. How the hell would you expect me to react? You’re missing two very important points:
1) I’m not an active whore but a retired one, and I’m supported by my husband; this is my work now. Your presumption that being good at something requires “fixation” is almost as insulting as your accusation that I’m male, and your presumption that only a male could create the kind of quality writing that I do is extremely misogynistic.
2) Science isn’t illegal; how do you think you’d feel if it were? Wouldn’t you work to change that? Or perhaps you think homosexuals should just forget about being gay when they’re not having sex, and pretend to be heteros so they wouldn’t get beat up by cops or wrongfully imprisoned for living their lives? Maybe you think all the other sex work activists, many of whose blogs are linked on the right there, are all male as well?
So no, I can’t understand your “disquiet”, which seems to me born of disguised misogyny and a total lack of comprehension of what I’m trying to do here.
Mr. Chapman, another ex-whore here, who is probably still fixated on it. I had a good, long run in the biz, and had more fun and made more money than I ever would have, else. Eventually a physical condition, arthritis, and age, forced me out. Too soon, too soon. But honestly, I think anytime would have been too soon. So I miss, and mourn, the life I had.
I thoroughly enjoy Maggie’s writing, and have never once suspected her of being anything other than what she says she is. For one thing, she “gets” somethings that most outsiders wouldn’t. (Unless she is the most talented writer in the world.)
And- Some scientists do write science blogs.
I guess Mr. Chapman thinks that real whores spend our lives dreaming of “Coach” bags, overpriced makeup and more shoes than we can possibly ever wear, and anyone who actually cares about principles must be a dude in disguise. 🙁
Heh. I’ve never been a high maintenance girl, any more than what was required. I spent my non-working time rambling, boating, bike riding. One of the perks of the job was that I could just hare off for a few days on an impromptu bicycling, or rafting holiday when I pleased. I’ve hiked miles on my own. I’ve ridden long distance bike trips on my own. I often took on things some of the other women wouldn’t, work wise. And I’m damn glad I did, given what the arthritis has done to me now.
I’ve never been a “girly girl.” Off work I rarely wear makeup. I get dirt under my fingernails. I’m interested in the experiences of other women who have done the same line of work I did. I must be a dude in disguise.
This morning, a person claiming to be Chapman using a different email address made a number of ugly comments which I declined to let through, but they reveal the innate sexism and paranoia of people like this. He declared that we “failed the test” by defending ourselves from his accusations and are all “lonely men” rather than “real escorts” (who presumably would have cried and run off to console themselves with Prada when attacked).
Yeah, he sounds charming. /sarcasm
What blew me away was the presumption in “knowing” how “real” escorts felt about their jobs – “they basically leave the job behind when the hotel door shuts.” Did he think that his amazing prowess in bed would somehow turn the tables?
As I mentioned in a letter to you recently, I never really grokked the meaning of the term “mansplaining” until a few months after stating this blog.
For what it is worth, Maggie, I haven’t ever doubted your story or your sex. I find your writing uniquely, deliciously feminine. There are many marvelous male writers out there, but there is no way a man could treat this subject matter in your inimitable style.
Thanks, Tonja; I’m simultaneously insulted and amused by such accusations. On the one hand they’re so incredibly sexist (“you’re so reasonable you must be a man”) and on the other they reveal such a deep and profound misunderstanding of the female mind; I am reminded of the French asses who insisted Story of O MUST have been written by a man, when any woman who reads it finds evidence to the contrary on almost every page.
You sure sound female to me.
I think the “you’re not a woman” thing is just another version of the denial I talked about in “Hiding from the Light“, amplified by the sexist desire to believe a woman can’t be rational and write well.
AHA! Your denial that you are a witch PROVES that you are a witch!! Get the stake ready.
Maggie
Every guy reading your blog is going to have a moment where he thinks,”This person “Maggie” sounds more than a little bit like a guy.” Here is why:
1.This is internet. This speaks for itself.
2. It is rare in real life to encounter a woman who displays as much enthusiasm for emotionally detached, logic based argumentation as you do. I do not mean women are not fully capable of being detached and logical in their approach to issues such as this. I do mean that they rarely seem to enjoy doing it. But you are volunteering to do this and are obviously enjoying it.
3. You present manosphere positions as if you really “get it” without having to struggle with them. In my experience, this is a rare thing for any woman to pull off.
I decided you are legit because you when you write about sex you reveal which side of the great Divide you have always lived on. As a woman who has been either very attractive (or extremely attractive) to all men virtually your entire life you instinctively regard mens desire for you like it was the water supply or the electrical grid. You never needed to bother worrying about how to create it; just what to do with it and avoid being harmed. Even the most attractive men would find that life experience utterly foreign and would have a lot of trouble faking the attitude, even in writing fiction..
Along this line, you have described your enjoyment of sex as “receptive”. That is not a word any guy would ever use if he were writing fiction about sex. It is exactly the word that would be used by a woman whose lifetime experience of sex was that most guys were dependably desperate for her and that strong ego strokes were almost guaranteed for her whenever she took her cloths off,
That is a world straight men literally cannot imagine.
Plus. I have been lucky enough to know in real life some women like Maggie – who are really, really good looking and possess the intellectual gifts – on every level – to make sensible use of the possibilities. But that is like winning the lottery twice and as a career path most women should keep their days jobs, imho.
Thanks, Rum. It’s a sad commentary on male-female relations and the intellectual bankruptcy of feminism that a woman who tries to understand men, or to think and write rationally, is suspected by some of being male. 🙁
I don’t think you can blame Stephen Chapman’s belief that someone who tries to understand men and think and write rationally must be a man. This is just plain sexism, which existed long before feminism did.
I amend my previous post. Stephen Chapman seems to think that anyone who thinks abstractly about a subject and sees the big picture (“how obessive you are about the whole world and history of prostitution”) is probably a man; he seems to think women are either incapable of, or uninterested in, widening their scope beyond focusing on immediately present practical issues (“I’ve met a few escorts (as a client) and they basically leave the job behind when the hotel door shuts.”)
He’s right in saying that most of them do that, but that’s partly because it’s just a job for them, and partly because due to criminalization they keep that part of their lives walled off from everything else.
I remember not liking Private Dancer back in the Eighties. Lines like “the men are all the same” and “you don’t think of them as human” rather ticked me off. Also, I just didn’t like the sound. But it had been ages since I’d heard it, so I listened. I still don’t like the sound. In fact, if I try to think of anything by Tina Turner that I do like, the only one that comes to mind is Proud Mary. I’m not saying she isn’t good, just that her sound doesn’t appeal to me.
I always assumed the woman in the song was a stripper, but yeah, she could have been a hooker too.
I had never heard or even heard of A Woman’s Story. Quite a song, and Cher had the voice for it. She also had hair like an anime girl, proving that some things are possible in real life.
I have a special connection to Hot Child in the City, and not just because I wrote a song parody of it about Chibiusa. Yes, chibi… what?
I was in middle school, crushing hard on a girl I only saw at lunch and recess. Suddenly, we’re working on a project together. We were even allowed to play the radio. And what song do you suppose came on just as we were required (required, mind you) to stand almost on top of each other? And you know, you never forget something like that.
I can’t here or read the word “Lagrange” or even “La Grange” and not think of space habitats. But the Chicken Ranch sure did inspire some music! And I guess they never lost their fondness for the working girls, because that car in some of their videos was a rolling brothel.
Sweet Cream Ladies Forward March, like A Woman’s Story, is one I’d never heard of. It’s good. Thanks, Ornithorhynchus! Take care of that bill, and good swimming!
I’m not fond of “Private Dancer” myself, because even though I hadn’t done a single call when it was popular it still seemed to me to be an inaccurate assessment of how most whores would feel about their jobs (based on what I’d read and felt in my heart). But when I discovered the song was by Mark Knopfler, it all fell into place; as I pointed out in “A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody”, male songwriters often picture whores as jaded, degraded and miserable, while female songwriters usually depict us in a much more positive fashion.
That’s telling, isn’t it?
[…] Texas. For the lyrics to this and three more songs from Tina Turner, Cher and Nick Gilder, see my column of September 4th, 2011. Digg it | reddit | del.icio.us | […]
Don’t overlook the traditional sailor’s song “New York Girls”, perhaps best known from the “Gangs of New York” soundtrack, performed by Finbar Furey; but also done brilliantly by Steeleye Span back in 1975–with Peter Sellers on ukulele! Traditional lyrics are at: http://www.contemplator.com/sea/nygirls.html Not a flattering picture of the ladies of a bawdy house exploiting and robbing a sailor, but a piece of musical history nevertheless.
Mr Chapman is no scientist: “I’m a scientist. I like science at work, think it at home, write scientific papers. But, I don’t write a science blog. No research scientist I know does.”
A real scientist knows that the plural of “anecdote” is NOT “data”. He takes a limited data set about a particular category of people and draws a universal conclusion from it for that category, and then applies that conclusion to an entirely different category of people.
A good scientist would understand that, even if the conclusion that “scientists don’t write science blogs” were true, that has no bearing on whether retired whores would write blogs on whoring; or whether NASCAR drivers would blog about driving. He’s a troll, leave him under his bridge to rot; just continue to use his post as a bad example.
Late to the party as usual – I’m reading Maggie’s backlog – but I have to say that the TIME cover of Cher (along with the Sports Illustrated shot of Cheryl Tiegs in the macrame swimsuit) were among the defining images of my adolescence.