Moves
How do you feel when you dance? Personally, if you select the right song, I’m a puppet. I don’t even have to ask, my body moves. Bopping to a beat is an innate sensation. Even if it’s as simple as tapping a toe, your brain latches onto the rhythm and won’t let go. If you commit to it, you’ll enter a semi-sentient state where your movements occur before your thoughts can catch up. Though, there’s a reason people say, ‘dance like no one’s watching’; we’re always conscious of how we come across.
Never more so than when you’re surrounded by others with experience. Staying on beat isn’t something I usually struggle with, but what I didn’t realise was just how unconscious my movements are. Taking my first salsa lesson was eye-opening. Trying to remember even the most basic sequences completely removed me from the music. Suddenly, I’m in control, counting steps and fighting my flat-footedness.
To me, music, and consequently dance, are an emotion, an uncontrollable urge caused by a chemical reaction culminating in excess energy. It’s a vent, a moment of peace and uplifting relief from all the nonsense to fully commit to something you know to be meaningless. In its purest form, dance is a double concentrated dose of joy.
However, that’s not what I felt in salsa; quite the opposite. Instead, it reminded me of my first experience on a dancefloor. I never expected to begin my journey at an Oceana under-18 club night, but the best heroes have humble origins. My lasting memory is being overstimulated by everyone moving around me, with someone eventually pointing out that standing still is weirder than dancing badly, so I should probably give it a go.
No matter how hard I tried to mimic those around me, I never felt anything other than self-awareness, the thought that despite the fact I was doing the same thing as everyone else, I looked ridiculous doing it. That feeling lingered, but as my music taste developed, so did my impulse to move along.
Nevertheless, no concert or club night can prepare you for your first rave. I remember being blown away by the variety of movement on show. A diverse blend, from something as simple as bouncing on the spot, to intricately balancing on the balls of your feet between breakbeats. Instantly I realised that anything goes. Performances are probably enhanced, but raves are the most profoundly liberating expressions of movement I’ve experienced. Judgment isn’t even an afterthought.
It’s the ideal environment to develop your own way of dancing. There’s no structure, no steps to follow and no fucks to give. That feeling empowered me to listen and follow my body’s lead. Truthfully, my moves are far from conventional. My brother was once worried we would get kicked out of Fabric because of how I was dancing; he thought the bouncers would assume I’d taken something.
The thing is, creativity isn’t expressed exactly as you’d imagine. Often, it just arrives. You can correct and perfect it, but in a sense, you’re diminishing its authenticity. You’re producing the dream rather than the reality. To be honest, though, I think salsa just might not be for me.