Archive for the 'mr brightside' Category

I bet you look good on the dance floor

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I would like this to be an epiphany. But really it’s just more of a climb down. With cap in hand and sheepish look I confess, that I just may be a dancer.

By that, I in no way mean that I can dance, or indeed show an inkling of promise in the field. What I mean is that I just may enjoy it.

Background.

I have not danced, nor even tapped a foot in anger on the dance floor since a horrible ‘club’ experience when I was 19, when I first made a commitment never to dance in public again.

I dance in private regularly, head banging to Bloc Party with the best of them.

My problems with dancing are legion, but far and away the most significant is the self-consciousness of my white boy self making an idiot of himself in front of both beloved and complete strangers.

I am not alone in this I know.

Today I was at a friend’s wedding. Indeed this was a regression wedding. A wedding of a founder member of the GFA (Garden Football Association). The GFA was not as some suspect, a paramilitary organisation but a bunch of 15 year olds with two much time on their hands and a back garden and some footy.

This was a wedding of one of those guys that in many ways I don’t know nearly as well as I would like but just enough to know that it’s been well worth knowing him. One of those guys that you see once a year but remains solid in the ‘people I’m glad I’ve known in my life’ list.

The music was neither a dodgy cover band, nor a DJ, but just a ‘throw your iPod in the ring’ type of thing. And so we were all busy regressing into our 16/17/18 year old selves, and trying to reconcile this with our 26-year-old selves and catching up on what happened in between.

There was Mr Brightside, there was also Last Night, there was indeed most of the Nice Guy Eddie play list. There was Living on a prayer, and yes there was jumping up and down and realising that a high G is beyond my vocal range.

I loved it. This is no dirty, secret confession. This is proud and true, that dancing just may be an awful lot of fun. I will always be more comfortable dancing to Mr Brightside and Love will tear us apart than Build me up buttercup. I feel some kind of identity with the former. I feel nothing but contempt for the latter.

Today was in many ways ideal conditions for breaking my dance-fast. It may not happen again any time soon, but I am glad, no longer to be a secret dancer, but perhaps one who will require less encouragement to make a move on the dance floor. Though I would warn you still to keep your toes well clear.

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