I Dance Like An Old Person
My reality has sunk to new levels.
My body does not move like it use to when I was in my teens and twenties. Back then I thought I was just the coolest thing on the dance floor. I had such a groove going on and I was immersed in the beat and rhythm of those late 70’s funky songs. As Earth Wind & Fire sang it, I was a shining star.
Looking around the dance floor comparing my style to others, I was in a class all of my own. I would, at times, move around the dance floor and dance with everyone. Some would turn away from me so I would turn away from them and dance with the next available girl. I used to visit a place called The Disco Kid, a place for all of us under the age of eighteen. I didn’t care for a lot of the disco music back then and would wear my Disco Sucks t-shirt. I was a gweeb.
Then things changed drastically for me. I discovered Punk music. My world flipped. Gone were the tight 70’s shirts and bell bottom pants, I started wearing ripped up t-shirts with ‘Gabba Gabba Hey’ written on them and horizontally striped shirts in black and white. Stan Smith shoes were my favorite, because Stewart Copland from the Police wore plain white sneakers. I started to imitate his dance moves from the videos I watched on TV. This music was a breath of fresh air and dance-able in a different way.
When The Clash came on my radar and I wanted to be cool like them. I started going to clubs that played punk music in Toledo like The Cypress Lounge; We called it ‘The Beat.’ A Toledo band played there called The Xciterz and I use to work with the main guitar player at an Ihop. Their drummer had the same Gretsch kit that I had, only in a yellow tone. They played a blistering version of ‘Stepping Stone’ and I would dance the pogo on the dance floor.
I started up my own band called The Ground and we played at a place in East Toledo called Frankies. We weren’t bad, but we weren’t that good and we sounded more like 10,000 Maniacs than the Clash. We had good reviews, but I really wasn’t into the direction we were heading, so I broke the band up. People didn’t dance to our songs, not that they were dance-able. They weren’t. In fact, I wouldn’t have danced to our music when I think about it.
I wanted to sound like a dance band from New York called ‘Joey Miserable And The Worms.’ I saw them twice in a college town called Bowling Green. They had a horn section that killed it. The lead singer/guitarist, Simon Chardiot, gave me their album after a song I had been dancing to. I cherished that album but left it at a friends apartment and never saw it again. Luckily, I can listen to the album on Band Camp online. They have a song called ‘Gerbil On The Wheel Of Love’ that is totally awesome. Give it a listen if you have time.
A band I was in during my college days in the 1990’s was absolute fun to play in. We were called Flubber, but with an umlaut above the ‘u’ and the pronunciation sounded more like ‘Floober.’ We were somewhat of a dance band with our originals mixed in. If we had a horn section we would have sounded spectacular. We did a rendition of ‘Peter Gun’ which segued into ‘Planet Claire’ from the B52’s. I thought we were a great band, and if we were to extend our playing region I think we would have gained a bigger audience. But our bassist moved to St Louis, and I, moved all the way down to New Zealand.
All through this I loved dancing to the bands and alternative music, but the music was changing year after year and I felt myself becoming distant as the new groups came through with their own style. I still danced in the style of Stewart Copland, but it looked out of place with all the new funky moves of MC Hammer and the like. I realized that I had lost my Mojo.
When I moved down to New Zealand my wife and I happened upon a bar that was playing swing music and the people dancing look spectacular. We tried dancing to the music, of course in our own style, but we looked like amateurs, obviously. So we started taking lessons in Lindy Hop. In the class our teacher was very stern and I didn’t think she liked us. Once she mentioned that in a certain part of the song we could improvise, so I started doing the robot, which I thought was funny. I remember the instructor rolling her eyes. My wife laughed and that was cool to me.
My wife took Lindy Hop to the next level and I just couldn’t keep up with her. I loved the music, but I’d rather be playing the drums to it. Unfortunately I left my drum kit back in the states. We went to many functions where she danced her heart out while I sat back and listened to the music. I feel like I let her down, yet I was happy to see her out on the floor letting loose. I just dug the crazy drum beats of that swinging music.
Now that I am older, whenever I dance I still do my best Stewart Copland jig and I must look like a spaz to everyone. If I ever went to a wedding reception I would look so out of place today. I’m just not as hip, or flexible, as I used to be. In the back of my mind I would probably be thinking, ‘Not so fast! Don’t have a cardiac arrest!’ Dancing is suppose to keep one healthy, but honestly…, I would look like a wounded moose.
I still feel like I want to dance, but I don’t want to embarrass myself, or my family. I can just imagine my kids having that ‘cringe’ look on their faces as they disown me as I cut loose on the dance floor. I now choose to dance by myself, ..alone, …away from everybody. When the family is out of the house, I will dance. When I go to the bay at night and am alone with my earplugs in, I dance. If anyone were to see me they might think me insane, but I don’t care. I’m older now and I dance like an old person, but to hell with the rest of world!!
“With a rebel yellll, he dances more, more, more…”
