There are lots of rock songs about sex, but a whole lot fewer about menages à trois, and you can see why: the ones that do exist are almost universally terrible. This seems like a blot on the music industry’s collective copybook, so we figured there might be some merit in investigating the circumstances behind a bunch of famous threesome songs. You’ll never believe what happened next!
Interpol — “No ‘I’ in Threesome”
[Deliberately seedy dive bar, Lower East Side, 2001.]
Paul Banks of Interpol: “Hey baby, y’know, I’m getting bored, what if we —” Mrs. Paul Banks of Interpol: “Yes, Julian?” PB: “Stop calling me that.” Mrs. PB: “Sorry. Yes, Paul Banks of Interpol?” PB: “What if we… had a threesome? With someone… hot?” Mrs. PB: “Oh honey, sure, I’ll call up this one guy I know.” PB: “No, wait—” Mrs. PB (on expensive Nokia cellphone): “Hi, Carlos D of Interpol, would you like to have a threesome with me and Paul Banks of Interpol?” Carlos D. of Interpol (voiceover, creepily): “But of course.” PB (despairingly): “I meant a hot girl!”
[Carlos D. enters.]
Mrs PB and Carlos D. (in unison): “TOO LATE, PAUL BANKS. TOO LATE.”
[PB exists stage right, with Mrs. PB and Carlos D. in hot pursuit]
Jane’s Addiction — “Three Days”
[Backstage, Lollapalooza, early ’90s.]
Perry Farrell: “Hey girl, wanna touch my robe? It’s authentic hand-woven camel hair, made by a blind shaman in the Mexican desert.” Groupie #1: “No.” PF: “Hey girl, wanna come back to my trailer? I’ll mansplain the Kabbalah to you.” Groupie #2: “No.” PF: “Hey girl, wanna drink this ayahuasca with me? We can trip balls and understand the secrets of the universe.” Groupie #1: “Look, dude, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re trying to find Anthony Kiedis.”
[Crestfallen, Perry walks away. Dave Navarro enters stage left.]
Dave Navarro: “Hey girls, want to sleep in my coffin?” Groupies (in unison): “Perry, wait, we’re going with you!”
Leonard Cohen — “Famous Blue Raincoat”
[A studio apartment on Clinton Street, 1968. A single candle burns.]
Leonard Cohen (gravely): “It’s four in the morning. The end of December. I’m—” Jane (interrupting): “Oh Lenny, stop it. Why do you always have to be so serious?” LC: “Sorry.” Jane: “And give me back that lock of hair. It’s creepy.” LC: “I’m so sorry.”
[Silence.]
Jane: “Why don’t you go down to the bodega and get some beer? I’m sick of red wine.” LC: “It’s cold, and that prick ran off with my raincoat.”
[Silence.]
LC: “Did you ever go clear, though?” Jane: “What does that even mean?”
[Silence. A cold wind blows in off Clinton Street. The candle flickers. Leonard sighs heavily.]
LC: “Did I ever tell you about Janis Joplin?”
New Order — “Bizarre Love Triangle”
[Manchester, 1986. Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook pore over a lyric sheet.]
PH: “The thing is, Barney…” BS (singing): “Every time I see you falling…” PH: “Well, it’s just that…” BS (singing): “I’m waiting for that final moment…” PH: “This song doesn’t seem to be about a love triangle, is all.” BS (singing): “I feel fine and I feel good…” PH: “Are you listening to me?” BS: “WELL WHAT IS IT ABOUT THEN, YOU GINGER TWAT?” PH: “How t’fook should I know?” Gillian Gilbert: “Stop it, you two.” PH and BS (in unison): “I miss Ian.”
ABBA — “Two for the Price of One”
[A bedroom, mid-’70s. Shagpile carpet. A lava lamp. Anni-Frid and Agnetha recline on a bed in the company of a bearded dude.]
Anni-Frid: “Oh, Björn.” Bearded dude: “What?” Agnetha: “We love you so much, Björn.” Bearded dude (confused): “My name’s not Björn.” Anni-Frid: “Oh, Björn. Stop being naughty.” Bearded dude: “I’m not Björn.”
[Anni-Frid and Agnetha study him closely.]
Agnetha: “Oh, Benny, you’re so naughty, playing a joke on us like that? You grew a beard to fool us!” Bearded dude: “I’m not Benny either!” Anni-Frid: “Who the fuck are you, then?” Bearded dude: “I’m Barry Gibb.” Anni-Frid and Agnetha: “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu—”
The Rolling Stones — “Stray Cat Blues”
[A sleazy motel, some time during the 1960s.]
Mick Jagger: “You say you got a friend?” Apparently underage girl: “Um…” MJ: “That she’s wilder than you?” Girl: “Well…” MJ: “No, I don’t want your ID!” Girl: “You don’t?” MJ: “It’s no hanging matter! It’s no capital crime!”
[Girl reaches into handbag and produces badge and gun.]
Girl: “Actually, it is.” MJ: “Fuck.” Girl: “You’re nicked, sunshine.” MJ: “Don’t tell Keef!”
[She handcuffs him. They exit stage left.]
Stereo Total — “L’Amour a Trois”
[A hotel in Berlin, mid-’90s. Françoise Catcus and Brezel Göring are in bed with a handsome young gentleman.]
Françoise Cactus: “Moi, ce que j’adore: c’est les petit caresses à quatre mains.” Brezel Göring: “C’est sexy, extatique, crazy, excentrique!” FC: “Oui!” BG: “Animal, romantique…” FC: “Oui!” BG: “C’est communiste!” FC: “…communiste?” BG: “Oui, parce que je pense que c’est possible que Marx et Engels à—”
[The door opens. One of Chicks on Speed walks in and registers what’s happening.]
One of Chicks on Speed: “Dear god!”
[She runs out of the room and slams the door.]
FC (shrugs): “Je ne comprends pas les Americains.” BG: “Elle est Australienne, je pense.” FC: “C’est la même chose.”
[The handsome young gentleman stretches languidly and sits up.]
BG: “Encore?” Handsome young gentleman: “Pourquoi pas?”
[Fade to black.]
Peaches — “I U She”
[The same room, some time later.]
Françoise Cactus: “Mais tu sais, les Canadiennes….” Brezel Göring: “Ah oui, c’est vrai que les Canadiennes sont differents. Tu connais Merrill Nisker?” FC: [whistles appreciatively] BG: “Quelle fille.” FC: “Zut alors.”
[Silence.]
BG: “Tu veux lui téléphoner?” FC: “Maintenant?” Handsome young gentleman: “Pourquoi pas?” FC: “Ooh la la.”
Britney Spears — “3”
[A corporate boardroom, 2009.]
Man in suit: “We need something new for this singles compilation.” Other man in suit: “New?” Third man in suit: “Edgy.” Yet another man in a suit: “Controversial?” Man in suit: “What haven’t we done yet?” Man in suit, possibly not one of the aforementioned: “Schoolgirl uniform?” First man in suit: “Did it.” Different man in suit: “Red catsuit?” First man in suit: “Nope.” More men in suits than you can count: “Mildly risqué S&M references?” First man in suit: “Done.” Army of men in suits (in unison): “GROUP SEX!” First man in suit: “YES! Britney, what do you think?” Britney Spears: [Silence.] Army of men in suits: “LET’S DO IT!” Britney Spears: “Derp.”
Rick James — “1, 2, 3 (You, Her and Me)”
Rick James (to camera): “Cocaine is a hell of a drug.”
[Smash cut to audience laughing hysterically forever.]
[Fade to black.]