Rhythm

I love music, any kind of music, I love music just as long as it's...not disco. I have to make some compilation discs for a wedding, which includes background music and the full blown disco later in the evening. I think I have already nailed my colours to the mast in an earlier post when I explained about the sort of music I like. It isn't Disco music. It is as far removed from Disco as you could possibly get. I have no love of the drum machine, the repetitive hand clapping and the instrumental break which includes a whistle being blown by someone who obviously has no concept of the word annoying. If your child was to go around blowing a whistle like that, it would soon end up being introduced to a hammer. The whistle, not the child. I have spent the past few months trying to come up with a few hours worth of music that will please everyone and it has been hard. A few weeks ago I was finally happy with the 4 x 1hr and 20min cd's I had made. However, the experience left me with music burn-out, having to listen to the full 14 minute of Rappers Delight by the SugarHill Gang and More, More, More by the Andrea True Connection left me with a twitch below my right eye and an aversion to Hotels, Motels and indeed Holiday Inns. I think my man gene kicks in sometimes. My formative years in the 70's were spent watching my sister standing in a line with other girls performing intricate moves to songs. Every record seemed to have a dance that went with it. I can remember desperately wanting to be able to do 'The Woodpecker," which was performed to Tiger Feet by Mud, but the one time I attempted this dance an ambulance was called because someone thought I was having a seizure.
It wasn't too long before I came to the conclusion that dancing is for girls. So, I got into music that you didn't have to dance to and if you did want to dance then all you had to do was jump up and down. I can do that. Nowadays, I am as nimble as an armchair. I still can't dance, I may tap my right foot, and maybe my left as well if it's a long enough song, but that's about it.
Bill Hicks said that real men don't dance, they just sit, sweat and curse. I concur with that sentiment.