Do We Have To Talk About Sex All The Time? – Audio Torture’s Wild Ride Through Experimental Rock
Alright, let me just say this upfront: Do We Have To Talk About Sex All The Time is one of those albums that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. Released in 1981 by UK’s Audio Torture (on Scream Records), it’s not your average rock record. It’s messy, chaotic, and kinda brilliant—like someone spilled paint everywhere but somehow made art out of it. If you’re into experimental, avant-garde stuff with a dash of indie rock weirdness, this might be your jam.
Now, before we dive deeper, I gotta shout out Martin Herring—he’s doing triple duty here on drums, guitar, AND vocals. You can tell he’s pouring his soul into every track. And then there’s Charlie Lees on keys, adding these haunting layers that make everything feel slightly off-kilter. Oh, and props to Jamie Edmunds for bringing tabla sounds into "Bedtime Stories Part One"—because who expects Indian percussion on an 80s British rock album? Not me, but damn if it doesn’t work.
Let’s talk tracks now. Out of all the songs, two really stuck with me: “Reagan Rap” and “Plip Plop and Panic.”
First up, “Reagan Rap.” Yeah, you heard that right—a rap about Ronald Reagan. Back in ’81, this must’ve felt like some kind of political punk fever dream. The lyrics are snarky as hell, delivered with this deadpan delivery that makes you laugh while also feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Like, what even is this? Is it satire? Protest music? A joke gone too far? Honestly, I don’t know, but it’s unforgettable. Every time I hear it, I picture Martin sitting in a dingy rehearsal space somewhere in London, muttering lines under his breath like, “This’ll show ‘em.”
Then there’s “Plip Plop and Panic,” which hits different. This song feels like falling down a flight of stairs—chaotic, disorienting, and kinda thrilling. There’s no clear structure; instead, it’s this swirling mess of noise and rhythm that pulls you in. At first listen, I thought my speakers were broken. But after a few spins, I realized that was the point. It’s raw energy bottled up and unleashed without apology. By the end, I wasn’t sure whether to cheer or cry, so I did both.
The rest of the album keeps the madness going. Tracks like “I Don’t Want To Play More Than One Chord (part 1)” live up to their titles, delivering exactly what they promise—and maybe more than you bargained for. And don’t get me started on “Chapatti Song”—it’s… well, honestly, I still don’t know what it is. But it’s fun as hell.
What strikes me most about this album is how unapologetically itself it is. These guys weren’t chasing trends or trying to fit in. They were just making noise because they had something to say—or maybe because they didn’t know any better. Either way, it works. Listening to it feels like eavesdropping on a secret conversation between four dudes who decided to flip the bird to convention and do whatever the heck they wanted.
So yeah, Do We Have To Talk About Sex All The Time isn’t gonna appeal to everyone. Some people will call it pretentious nonsense. Others will think it’s genius. Personally, I think it’s a bit of both—and that’s why I love it. It reminds me that music doesn’t always have to make perfect sense. Sometimes, it just has to exist.
Oh, and one last thing—I still haven’t figured out what the question mark track (“?”) actually is. Maybe it’s silence. Maybe it’s a hidden message. Or maybe it’s just them trolling us. Whatever it is, it fits perfectly.
