Admittedly, I'm not the biggest Scorpions fan there is, especially when compared to the denizens of various Eastern European countries, I've got a small space in my black heart where they live and breathe. In my youth, I remember hearing "Rock You Like a Hurricane" on the rock radio my dad always used to listen to, and of course "Wind of Change" juxtaposed over images of the Berlin Wall coming down. Still, they didn't really appeal to me; their cheesy sexual innuendos, delivered in slightly less than perfect English by a Black Forest dwarf seemed ridiculous, in that creepy German way that gave us the Church of Fudge and other classics of the scheiße genre. I associated sexy girls with Guns N' Roses' "November Rain," and fun with Megadeth and Metallica. Then, when some of my favourite guitarists cited Michael Schenker and Uli Jon Roth as major influences, I thought that I should give the Scorpions a try. I was pleasantly surprised to find a discography filled with bitchin' riffs.
The real kicker came in April my sophomore year, when I lost my virginity to my Swedish girlfriend. I had incidentally purchased their best hits compilation Deadly Sting: the Mercury Years around that time, which became the soundtrack to my adventures in poontang. Afterall, I couldn't blast Prodigy or Slayer to keep the delicate sounds of muffslamming reaching the tender ears of my younger siblings, for they were too hard for the Swedish girl. And besides, girls shouldn't like Prodigy or Slayer, anyway. Not girfriend material ones, at least, and I stand by my convictions to this day.
Anyway, the Scorpions are, in my humble opinion, the consistently best band to fuck to.
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