Pop vs. Locke

Before last night, I had almost forgotten how much fun it can be to dance. When I used to go to dances, I would move all silly and goofy intentionally, out of a fear that I couldn't move with with enough real moves to be impressive. And dances were nice enough, but there was still some sort of disconnect between me and everything else, including the music.

Then I changed my outlook.

Now, I dance like no one is watching. Because I don't care if they are. Well, I do a little bit. I don't really like the attention of a group being on me. Ever. For any reason. But, for some reason, people really responded to my dancing last night. Maybe it's because it's been about a year since I've been to a dance. And I realized how much joy moving to music can bring.

Being a little under the weather and experiencing a little bit of social ADD (I kept migrating between the dance downstairs and the games upstairs and even spent some time reading in the lobby of the Institute building), I took the opportunity to observe some of the other dancers. And I realized a couple of things.

For the first slow dance, I stood out along the wall and watched as each guy became paired up with a girl for the next 3-4 minutes. Some of them wanted to be with that girl and some may not have. Some of the couples were really good dancers, looking very intense and mechanical, pulling all these moves that I'm sure have names for them. Or that they saw on last week's on "Dancing with the Bachelor." Some of the couples that paired off couldn't hold a beat in a backpack if you handed it to them, but they were clearly enjoying themselves. For them, it was thrilling, and you could see how everyone else disappeared from their mind.

Like the adorable couple in the corner, gently salsa dancing (by which I mean any kind of dancing you would find among the guests at a Quinceañera) to a slow song. And I just about giggled when he snuck a kiss on the cheek when he thought no one was looking. My, was that girl glowing. But the only award they would win is "Couple Who Looks Most Like Each Other."

But I think my favorite were the social misfits who had never met before the dance floor. I'm rather sad that I missed who approached whom because I found them cute beyond all measure. Neither one of them appeared to have much style, either in dress or dancing ability. I hope they exchanged numbers. (Or usernames, or something.)

I read this line from Thomas Hardy the other day and realized it's a fairly accurate summation of my outlook: "But no--[her lips] were not perfect. And it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity." Oh, the humanity!

The other mental observation I made tonight also has something to do with Victorian times.

Dancing has changed. And I'm not just referring to the music, either. The way people move their bodies to music has changed. Look at the way young people dance nowadays. The songs and dances people participate in at their wedding receptions (what can I say? people think and talk about what's on their fridge; some have kids and schedules on theirs, I can't go more than a day without a wedding announcement on mine)--are they going to be able to recreate that at their 50th wedding anniversary? Anyone else want to watch Gramps and Granny grinding?

But it isn't just the moves and the songs. Because, let's be honest, is the message of Lady Gaga's "Just Dance" really all that different from that classic polka "Roll Out the Barrels?" Watch a quadrille scene from any movie based on any Austen book. And what do you notice? Okay, what would I notice? That the Austonians? Austerians? are dancing with each other while the Modernites? Moderians? are essentially dancing with themselves. To be on the dance floor nowadays, you don't have to have someone with you; it's perfectly acceptable to go move on your own. But back then, things were orderly and arranged. Dancing has lost its unity.

Victorian era dancing patterns involved the dancers standing upright and facing each other. While there was physical interaction, you could probably fit a Book of Mormon between their groins at any given moment. Most of their movements were simple. A glance at contemporary dancing and you'll note almost the exact opposite. The dancers are practically in a bouncing fetal position, either pressing their backs against their partner or violently shaking what is commonly (or at least used to be) known as their "groove thing" in the face of no one in particular.

Look at hip-hop moves versus, say, a waltz (by which I mean a dance one might do to something composed by a guy with a snow white weave). You can't waltz by yourself. At least, not to my knowledge, but maybe Matilda knows. Hip-hop is not exactly a group effort. Breakdancing "groups" don't dance together; they take turns in the circle.

The closest we get today to that group-dancing effect is line dancing. And, with the exception of Footloose and Gloria Gaynor, that's done to country music. Which doesn't get played at dances because, well, I don't know why. The stereotype of Mama's, bars, prison, trains and pickup trucks all being whined about in 3 minutes of twang, I guess.

Oh, and I heard a 40-something white woman say at work, "Oh, yeah, I used to pop it and lock it with the best of 'em." And she meant it!