You can dance if you want to
Click to viewThis man is my hero.
When I was at A-1's show at the Catalyst in the Santa Cruz, Chuck and I unwittingly kicked it on the wrong side of the venue for the first half of the night. Much to our confusion, every person we chatted up in the crowd was there for a reggae group called Irratio. Curious about whether we had come to the right venue on the right night, we decided to just go with it and see where the night took us.
In a crowd of some 200 young-adults and college kids, particularly in Santa Cruz, I expected that the venue would build into a party of free expression and unity. There would be many a stubbed toe. Bodies ricocheting off each other like bumper carts. Instead, during the first act, a dope Indie folk band featuring a violinist (Micah Brown for those of you interested), Chuck and I were the few people that actually seemed into it. We danced like there had been a drought in the village, and the survival of our people rested on our feet never stopping... much to the mocking bemusement of the jaded stoners nearby.
Admittedly, I know that we all enjoy ourselves in different ways. Who am I to point to another and say that they're not experiencing it "properly"? I don't aim to paint with a thick brush, and refuse to classify as everyone in there as a tool and a hipster. I've always been the type to bob my head to music -- whether that be to headphones or live music -- and now I've become comfortable spreading that bobbing to the rest of my body. That doesn't mean that everyone is inclined to do so.
However, while not pointing to any individuals or groups, the growing trend of critical, passive consumerism troubles me. I belong to a generation where casual aloofness reigns supreme. Where fun derives from sarcastically tearing something down rather than enjoying the moment with childlike abandon. We point towards the dancing freaks, making snide comments...
until enough people join along that the dancing freaks become the majority. Then, they're quick to join along out of fear of being the freaks.
I suppose part of the reason why it hurts me so is that I used to engage so viciously in this behavior. While on one level, tuning into others's spiteful and negative perceptions of me hurts, what really pierces me is that I truly want others to fall into ecstasy with me. I've lived the past several years stagnant and fearful of reproach; scared to lead by example since the frontlines are a warzone of piercing eyes and insult grenades.
But I'm tired of being a sheep. If the alternative is being a boring, negative, black rim glass toting, exclusive Blue Bottle Coffee drinking, bearded asshole chilling against the wall with a PBR, fuck that.
Teach me your funky, grooving ways, you majestic guru, you.
I want to dance with all of you. Seriously, I wanna get naked with all y'all.