Stripper Music with Sara Roche

"If you’re going to be cringe, do it at a strip club."

Sara Roche

“Stripper music” is a category that transcends genre and era. The term might evoke Sonny Lester’s bombastic exotica, or Motley Crue’s boyish grotesqueries, or Rihanna’s sophisticated raunch, or Trent Reznor’s cold sleaze, or (if you’re a Sopranos fan) The Kink’s circa 1984.

It might be overtly pervy, or cheesy and dated, or ironically romantic, or sincerely romantic. It could be a current hit, or a strange deep cut. I, for one, think of Randy Newman’s “You Can Leave Your Hat On,” which is almost all of the above. Regardless, as with another famously hard-to-define adult artform, you’re likely to know stripper music when you hear it, or when you see the right girl dancing to it.

When Sara Roche started dancing, she’d imagined hair metal pumping out of the speakers. The club where she works is, however, dominated by Future and 21 Savage and Lil Wayne, “a lot of high energy, fast-paced rap,” she says. “Our club kind of pushes for that, they want people to get drunk and spend money. If you have slower songs they’ll allow you to play two or three throughout your shift, but they want you to be playing the bangers.”

Billed as Tucson, AZ’s best strip joint, the club has been around for four decades, and some of the dancers have been there nearly that long. Roche, known to customers as “Mars,” is strictly a day-shift stripper, which means she’s mostly dealing with “older, retired people who want company … or people on their lunch break who are there to spend money and get the fuck out.” She prefers that to the younger, drunker night-time crowds, who are more interested in yelling “woo girl!” than dropping any real cash.

Roche gets to the club around 10:30 a.m. and between then and 11:30 a.m., when the doors open, she hangs out in the dressing room, getting ready and soaking up the chaos: “Just a bunch of naked women on their phones and facetiming their boyfriends and watching TikToks really loud and playing music on their phones,” she says, with affection. “Then all the old men start to trickle in and it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Even mid-morning it’s a nightclub vibe: Low lights hide the grime and dirt and stains, and loud music and bare breasts distract from mildew stench and “shit falling off the walls,” as Roche puts it. The whole place, she jokes, is great for her immune system.

The work can be tough, of course. Some people, Roche says, come in to tear performers down, or worse. But there’s a lot of comradery too, especially between her fellow dancers. As for the clients, “sometimes people come in and they just need to be touched, or looked at because they don’t have families or friends. Or, there are a lot of autistic dudes who come in and you can tell that they’re trying to practice talking to women. That stuff can be very sweet and rewarding.”

I got to know Roche in 2020 via two consecutive 200-hour online yoga teacher training programs, during which we spent three hours a day on Zoom, learning about anatomy and philosophy and so-on. We practice-taught each other and when it was Roche’s turn her playlists were always cool and soulful and a little bit cheeky.

Roche enjoyed teaching, but was also eager to learn something else brand new. She took a pole dancing class and quickly became obsessed. “I was like, ‘I really like doing this!’ And then I was like, ‘Oh I can make money doing this. I should be doing that.’”

Below, Roche and I discuss — among other things — her favorite songs to dance to, music as protection, and the power of a squeaky bedframe sound effect.

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Tell me about your music taste generally.

Being in that atmosphere where it’s just loud ass music all the time I’ve gotten really into peaceful instrumentals. I’ve been really into Emil Amos, he’s the drummer of Om and he [has as solo project] that’s really interesting and ambient. Anything that’s relaxing to my nervous system.

Has doing this work changed your idea of what “stripper music” is?

Definitely. I think also when i went into it I had this idea of the character I wanted to be. I was thinking, like, '80s hair metal scrunchie bitch.

I was thinking about this the other day, actually. You know when you go to karaoke and people are singing the songs that they really like? But it’s not about what makes you happy, its about, like, how are you going to hype this karaoke bar up? You have to play the bangers.

Just like in teaching yoga, its not about you.

Right. So finding the fine line of knowing what music needs to be played in the club, and the music that I really want to dance to is an interesting journey. When I first started I’d be playing some weird shit.

So you get to pick what you dance to?

Yeah. Your first shift … You’re already shitting bricks because you’re nervous to be there, and you gotta go up and talk to the DJ who’s like, “What songs to do you want on your list?” [Dopey nerd voice] “Uhhhh I don’t know.” But yeah, I’ve built a pretty strong playlist that is appeasing to the club and also shit that I do want to dance to.

One of my favorite ones is “Everybody Loves the Sunshine,” Roy Ayers. I think in the club setting that song is really nice because it’s funky and slow and sensual and feels really good, and is a little out of place in a sea of fast-paced techno/EDM/rap music, this comes on and everyone is like, “who the fuck is on stage to this song right now? And then outside of the context of the club, it’s one of my most beloved songs of all time, it’s on every single one of my yoga playlists.

I love the overlap.

It just feels comfortable, you know, the song you’ve listened to ten thousand times, I can just get up there and take my top off and I’m in my zone.

You still get to be yourself, you’re sort of establishing your personality on stage.

Yeah, which is nice too for these, there’s an ass for every lap, that’s one of my favorite saying from the club. There’s gonna be one guy in there like, '“this bitch, she’s fire!”

How much is personal branding a thing? Is it something people in your business are thinking about?

For some people, yes. For other people its like, “I’m just here to get my bag and get the fuck out of here. I don’t need to stand out, I’ll wear the same shit every day, I’ll play the same song every day.” And honestly they make the most money.

Ok, the next song on my list is “Summer Breeze,” Type O Negative

YES, that’s so perfect, I love it.

Many years ago I was was sitting by the stage at a strip club and this red-headed woman was dancing to the Type O cover of “Cinnamon Girl.” She came up to me and flipped her hair in my face. So of course that song always makes me think of her.

You fell in love!

It’s such a good example of the right music creating the perfect moment.

But yeah, “Summer Breeze” is fun, every so often an older person will be like, “This is a cover … Seals and Crofts!”

I think that song, all of [Type O’s] music, is inherently sexy and slow and syrupy, it’s easy to melt onstage to that song. And I think it’s another instance of “Why is this song on in the strip club right now.” And people are, like, breaking necks to see who’s rockin’ it.

When people are breaking necks to see you I assume it helps you financially?

I think it helps, cause yeah, people remember the weird thing that’s happening on stage. Or even if you can get them to glance up from their table for a moment and you can lock eyes with them, you got ‘em. Just pullin’ ‘em in.

Also Type O Negative is so earnest. And they’re sexy, a little trashy, a little embarrassing, it strikes such a perfect tone for that environment. There’s a vulnerability to it. It’s a little cringe but in a good way.

Yeah, if you’re going to be cringe, do it at a strip club.

And another one I added to the list recently is White Zombie, “More Human than Human.” In the same way it’s cringe, overtly sexual trash vibes. And the more moaning or bedframe squeak sounds you can get into a song, the more you can [get into] a customer’s brain [laughs].

It kind of makes me want to listen to White Zombie outside of that joint because it feels very performative and safe in that way, and kind of funny. I understand it in a different way now whereas before I was like, “This song is ridiculous, turn this shit off!”

Do you feel like that ridiculousness is protective in the club?

Yeah, because you’re building this persona, right? The persona becomes your shield. And it’s nice to have a little bit of separation between your actual self and the person that you need to be in the club to get it done. I think when I first started I had a harder time separating it because I was like, “I’m just gonna go in there and be myself! I’ll tell everybody anything.” But as time has gone on its nice to have a little shroud of persona to put on as soon as I clock in.

Is there anything you stopped playing because you felt like you were giving too much away?

I was doing a lot of Erika Badu when i first started. “Didn’t Cha Know” is one of my repeat songs, and I think that song has just always been a special one to me, so I felt kind of guilty bringing that into the club. Like, she doesn’t need to be in here.

Ok, what’s next on your list?

Garbage, “#1 Crush”

I guess its kind of in that same vein of Type O Negative earnestness, “I would DIE for you.” Just raw and gross. [Laughs]

Oh, also. Growing up I hated this song, but being in the club and in that atmosphere I realized I need to dance to fuckin’ “Butterfly” by Crazy Town, bro! Its another one where people are like, “I haven’t heard this song in however fucking long. Who’s doing this?”

It was such a huge song, we all hold it in the collective unconscious.

And I feel like I’m channeling all the strippers that came before me when i dance to that. It gives me power.

What did you hate about the song when it came out?

It’s just so corny.

I didn’t like it, but liked it, you know?

Like it felt good, somehow.

They all seem liked creepy guys, but nice.

Yeah, they’d be calling you shawty and sweetie and winking at you and biting their lip but not really doing any more than that.

Ok, one more song.

CCR. I like to do “Run Through the Jungle” when it’s a club full of old men because it gets their blood pumping and reminds them of their younger days, they can see their high school sweetheart in my eyes.

Man, they must freak out when that comes on.

Yeah, they get real excited and start shuffling up to the stage.

I’d think anyone would get excited by a naked woman dancing to that song.

[Laughs] It was made for it! I think some of these songs come from veteran strippers, there’s one dancer named Passion, she’s 50 years old, she makes the most money in that place out of anyone, she’s a seasoned professional. But because she’s been doing it for so long her playlist is endless. Sometimes I’ll see her dance to something and its like, “Goddamn Passion, I’m going to have to steal that from you.” So I think that was a Passion song.

Semi unrelated, do you have a buffet?

No, but there’s bar fair like burgers and terrible salads. They recently were like, “We’re going to start doing pizza!” And it’s on our menu as “handmade, artisan pizza,” but its really just Red Baron.

That’s kind of a metaphor for a strip club. The pizza is artisanal and the dancers really like you.

We love you, we swear!

Of all the songs you listed, what’s the most reliable money-maker?

[Laughs] “Butterfly.” Every time.