I Feel Like Dancing (In My Mind)

I’ve never been much of a dancer. Frankly, if you know me well, you’re probably aware that I’m actually quite averse to it. It’s always been hard for me exactly to put my finger on, but there’s something about parties and clubs and otherwise dance-focused events that never clicked with me. When forced into such situations, the de-facto Antonio approach is typically to make an absolute fool of myself, perhaps with some hope that a series of physical humor will detract from my complete inability to unabashedly take myself seriously dancing. I will never forget back in the year 2009, preparations had been made for my sister’s “quinceañera”. Living in Mexico at the time, such parties were common, and with some rented lighting and music equipment (and probably some contemporary dance hits from Shakira or Pitbull) our patio was ready for a night of celebration. For my 13-year old self, a terrible fate had befallen me: the dancefloor had finally breached the walls of my own home. I spent the majority of that party seeking refuge in the kitchen, attempting to play off my stress with paper-thin assurances to my parents and sister’s friends that I would head back to the party momentarily. I don’t think I ever made it back. I’ve never been much of a dancer.

If you told then 13-year old Antonio that dance music would become a prominent and steady feature of my musical diet in the years to come, assuredly I would have laughed at the notion. But the truth is a lifetime later at 26, dance music, electronic music, and especially house music, are some of the areas of music that excite me most and take up a large portion of my listening time. To me, listening to a new dance album is a world of endless possibilities. Unconstrained by physical instruments (but free to incorporate them as well), musicians can fill your ears with wild and varied sounds. Synthesizers, drum machines, modulation effects, samples of music from the past or sounds from the world around us, there is no limit to what tools a musician can employ to craft a dance groove. And in my experience, there is no greater joy than hearing something that makes me say “now that is a good sound”. I remember the first time I listened to the fantastic house album There Is Love In You by Four Tet, and hearing the opening track “Angel Echoes” set the stage with a fittingly angelic vocal sample, chopped up in way that makes it flicker like a group of fireflies, sporadically lighting up in a way only something living could. When I heard that sound, I knew I had been missing out on something magical, something only achievable in the inorganic, digital landscape of electronic music I had long neglected.

“Angel Echoes” by Four Tet, from There Is Love In You (2010)

Growing up with mostly rock and folk music around me, and having a music vocabulary built on Guitar Hero video games, I always looked down at electronic music. In my mind, music “made on a computer” felt cheap, like something that was fake, or that lacked “real” musicianship. In reality, putting so much stock in musicians’ technical ability to play something exceedingly difficult, or limiting your focus to just a few instruments and styles, blinds you to the endless possibilities of musical expression. Furthermore, narrowly defining ‘difficulty’ in music as technical prowess leaves so many elements of music unappreciated; the difficulty of mixing and producing a track, or of searching through dozens of old records for a single sample, or of tweaking a synth patch for hours to achieve the exact sound quality for your lead melody, all of these things are difficult, but not so immediately obvious to the listener as shredding a guitar solo. Mastering the skills needed to make a quality track, and in the world of dance music, a track with energy and personality, is worthy of just as much admiration as the mastery of an instrument. Taking a closer look at Jamie XX’s colossal track “Gosh”, we can find virtuosity in a studio space, buttons, and wires.

“Gosh” by Jamie XX, from In Colour (2015)

In the very first moment of the track, a gargantuan bass note threatens to swallow you whole, and pulls you down into a pit of distorted vocal samples that sound almost human, and breakbeat drums that eagerly push us deeper into the song. Jamie XX is not impatient though, he lets the track build and build, eventually making way for pulsating bass notes that rumble your ears, and a beautiful synth lead that cuts right through the very busy and full mix effortlessly. This balance, using such a wide spectrum of frequencies on the track, but managing to get all of the components to work together, and shine individually on command, is a show of expertise. It is so easy for a complex sound palette like this one to fall apart, but here it just sounds so damn good.

For everything that there is to appreciate about electronic dance music from a technical perspective, there is still a quality to it that transcends proficiencies and analysis. Dance music is so often a repetitive affair, and this makes sense; for the clubbers and ravers and wedding dancefloor heroes of the world, a steady and cohesive rhythm is key. Without consistency, there is no way to get into the groove. And so for much of dance music, tracks take on a trance-like sound, one where the beat goes and goes, and the melodies can drone on and on. Getting lost in this trance, I find it easy to let it wash over me, wishing for the rhythm to keep going if only for a few more bars, to savor it for just a bit longer. Never did I think I would get so much out of dance music, especially without listening to it to dance, but oddly, I find that my experience with dance music shares much with ambient music for these reasons. Both rely on sinking into a sound and a feeling, and relinquishing yourself to it. Of course, ambient music is more of a calm meditation, but I’ve found there can be something quite meditative about the pulsating rumble of a bass drum, keeping time seemingly without end.

“Can’t Do Without You” by Caribou, from Our Love (2014)
“Inspector Norse” by Todd Terje, from It’s Album Time (2014)

I truly believe that dance music can be for everybody. Not to say that every person would or should enjoy every piece of dance music, but rather that for every person, there is an artist, or an album, or a track that is waiting to change your relationship with dance music. The nature of sampling means that there are countless entry points of familiarity to the world of DJs and dance beats; some tracks employ hip-hop beats, others take vocal samples from pop, or R&B, or folk, or any genre that you may already enjoy. To me it seems as though the producers of electronic music are some of the most holistic musicians out there. When the whole musical world can be not just your inspiration, but also the medium which you use and repurpose to create new art, listening to and appreciating music of all styles and backgrounds feels almost like a requirement. And when a snippet of music that is beloved is recycled into something new, and is used well, it can be exhilarating for the listener to hear in a different light. I recall hearing DJ Koze’s “Bonfire”, which takes a vocal sample from Bon Iver’s “Calgary”, and feeling my serene attachment to the original song transformed into excited joy. To hear something that for years has been dear to me remembered in a song so full of life is equal parts nostalgic and a breath of fresh air. In the world of dance music, this sense of rediscovery is happening all of the time, in a beautiful ecosystem of reusing and recycling.

“Bonfire” by DJ Koze, from Knock Knock (2018)

In many ways, dance music represents a crucial step in my personal musical journey, one of letting go of preconceived notions, of embracing new sounds and rhythms, and perhaps most importantly, of meeting music on its own terms. When listening to something new, there is so much we might ‘want’ out of music, maybe it’s great lyrics or a memorable chorus, or maybe we feel there is a direction a song should go in based on the intro. But what dance music has taught me is that the unpredictability of music is one of its greatest joys, and that sinking into a rhythm and letting yourself become a passenger to its whims is often the most rewarding listening experience. Meeting dance music on its own terms, giving it a listen and accepting wherever it takes me, has almost made me want to start dancing. I’ve never been much of a dancer, but sometimes I feel like dancing in my mind, busting moves in a blank void with a disco ball. On the floor or in your mind, there’s something special about music that makes you want to dance. I’ve at least learned that much.

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