I go to work (paid employment, over and above the unpaid mothering and writing I do the rest of the time) three mornings a week where I share an office. The other lady is there all week, so fair enough that she has control of the radio. However, she has it tuned to The Edge (I’m not even going to dig up their website for you … if you want it, go look for yourself). The Edge (a New Zealand radio station) plays the latest popular music, a large proportion of which seems to be “dance” …
Yeah. See, I like dancing. But to me, music that has a regular drum beat “Do do do do do do …” or, however you portray that most incredibly boring beat so many “tunes” have these days (wow, I sound old … but I used to say it about pop music when I was a teen, too … hey, I listened to Scatterbrain, it would have been hypocritical not to complain), is not generally what I call dance. I do have a soft spot for “Mr Saxobeat” … we can’t all be perfect. But, Katy Perry, Chris Brown (can’t even sing without putting his voice through some sort of filter, apparently) and the like, don’t interest me.
This … this is what I’d rather dance to:
You can just plain bounce to it if you like, but there’s some cool drumming there that lets you have fun with your footwork, if you so choose. I do.
And now for something completely different (well, not so much, it’s the same band):
Proof that Reef did more than “Place Your Hands“.