“One underappreciated aspect of the scientific process: science is not an inexorable march towards ‘the truth’. Ideas and the evidence gathered to support them are formed by people, who live in the world, have their own biases, and thus ideas are always dependent to some degree on what scientists have personally experienced. Scientific evidence is far more influenced by our emotions than empirical idealists would have us believe.”
Why do we love the things that are supposedly “bad” for us? Why does a certain beat make your whole body move before your brain even registers what’s happening? Why do humans — and quite a few animals, as it turns out — seek out altered states of consciousness? These are the kinds of questions Zoe Cormier tackles in Sex, Drugs, and Rock ‘n’ Roll: The Science of Hedonism, and I have to say, the answers are way more fascinating than I expected.
I almost wanted to think this book would be on par with A Short History of Nearly Everything with its histories of science and the personalities behind them.
It’s a great book, with a lot of cool and innovative information about all three topics: the effects and history of sex, drugs, and music on humans and even animals.
The Science of Getting It On
The sex section is where Cormier really sets the tone. She dives into the biology of attraction, the chemistry of arousal, and the evolutionary reasons behind our mating behaviors. What surprised me is how much of our sexual behavior is shared across the animal kingdom — we like to think we’re sophisticated, but our monkey-brains are running the same ancient programs as pretty much every other mammal on the planet.
She covers everything from pheromones to orgasm science to the evolution of monogamy (spoiler: humans aren’t naturally great at it). There’s a fascinating section on how our brains light up during sex in ways that mirror drug highs — which, if you think about it, perfectly sets up the next section of the book.
The takeaway? Sex isn’t just about reproduction. It’s a neurochemical event that shaped our social structures, our art, and our entire civilization. That’s a bold claim, but Cormier backs it up.
Drugs — Not What You Think
This was my favorite section. Cormier doesn’t moralize about drugs. She doesn’t tell you they’re good or bad. She just lays out the SCIENCE — what happens in your brain when you take various substances, why humans have been seeking altered states for thousands of years, and why the “War on Drugs” has been a spectacular failure from a purely scientific standpoint.
Here’s what blew my mind: animals get high too. Dolphins pass pufferfish around to get intoxicated. Elephants seek out fermented fruit. Jaguars chew on ayahuasca vines. This isn’t just a human weakness — it’s a biological drive that runs DEEP across species.
Cormier also gets into the history of psychedelics in research — how LSD was once a legitimate tool in psychiatry before politics shut it all down. She argues that we’ve lost decades of potential medical breakthroughs because of fear and stigma rather than actual science. Whether you agree with her or not, the evidence she presents is hard to argue with.
Rock ‘n’ Roll — The Universal Drug
The music section ties everything together beautifully. Why does music give us chills? Why can a certain chord progression make you cry? Cormier explains that music activates the same dopamine pathways as sex and drugs — essentially, your brain treats a great song the same way it treats other pleasurable stimuli.
She goes into the science of rhythm, how our brains are wired to detect patterns and anticipate beats, and why live music hits differently than listening through headphones. There’s a reason concerts feel almost spiritual — when thousands of people synchronize their movements and emotions, it triggers a collective neurochemical response that’s genuinely powerful.
As someone who listens to music every single day and has been to plenty of live shows, this section resonated with me. I’ve FELT that energy in a crowd. Now I understand the science behind it.
The Jargon Problem
Unfortunately, the comprehension is diluted with the scientific jargon. I’m not a big fan of books that mention the Latin names of parts of the brain (i.e., left ventrolateral prefrontal cortex), or long chemical formulas. I personally enjoy a simple read about science, and this wasn’t it (keep in mind, Thinking, Fast and Slow wasn’t an easy read either).
I get that Cormier is a science journalist and she wants to be accurate. I respect that. But the best science communicators — think Bill Bryson or Mary Roach — manage to be precise WITHOUT making you feel like you’re reading a textbook. There were stretches where I had to re-read paragraphs just to figure out what she was actually saying, and that breaks the flow.
What Makes It Worth Reading Anyway
The content is great, nonetheless, and there are tonnes of powerful snippets, and the flow is great. The author is also philosophical about the effects and histories of sex, drugs, and music, which allow you to think outside the box.
What I appreciate most about this book is the central argument — that hedonism isn’t just reckless indulgence. It’s wired into our biology. The pursuit of pleasure has driven scientific discovery, artistic expression, and social bonding throughout human history. That’s a perspective you don’t hear often, and Cormier makes a compelling case for it.
She also connects the three subjects in a way that feels natural rather than forced. Sex, drugs, and music aren’t just lumped together for a catchy title — they genuinely share neurological pathways and evolutionary functions. By the end of the book, you see them as three expressions of the same fundamental human drive.
Final Thoughts
Nonetheless, this is a great book about the sex, and the drugs, and the music, but minus one point for its complex vocabulary.
If you’re into science, psychology, or just want to understand WHY you love the things you love, pick this one up. Just be prepared to Google a few brain regions along the way.
3.5/5 — Fascinating content, slightly heavy on the jargon.
Thanks for reading.
— Leonidas
