Monday, October 23, 2006

White men can't dance.

I went to this Sri Lankan dinner dance thing on Saturday night. It was the fun and somewhat drunken evening that we all expected. There was a good band and they got everyone up dancing but no drums. Which, dare I say it, was nice. It meant I didn't have to do any kind of attempt to play a baila and for that I was truly grateful. I even spent some time practicing the baila yesterday afternoon, I got a few fills sorted out and felt rather flowing at it but no public performance was a huge relief.

After the usual round of speeches, raffles and dinner most of the guests hit the dancefloor. It was my Dad and my brother's birthday so our party was in good spirits and we all bopped away enthusiastically. I don't think of myself as a shy or retiring type but when the wife dragged me up to strut my stuff to "Dancing Queen" which segued nicely into "Simply the best" I was embarassed beyond belief. I could see my brothers smirking and laughing at me, even more than normal and if there had been a fellow chap with a "Divorce lawyer for hire, ask me now" sign on his back I would have engaged him there and then. Price would not have been an issue.

After that the band stepped it up a bit and there were twisting and jiving songs and all the stuff that us Sri Lankans love to shake a leg to.

Most of you will know by now that I have two brothers. We were all up giving it some welly and I looked at both of them and felt rather sad.

"Why so, Rhythmic?" I hear you asking.

It's because they can dance, boogie and shake their booties like the smooth groovers that they are and look cool and hip whereas I, allegedly of the same nature and definitely of the same nurture, strut my stuff and end up looking like some white bloke at a wedding. Not quite that bad but you can get the picture.

I've thought a lot about it in the last day and have come to a conclusion. It's not that I don't possess rhythm. Good God no. I'm a decent drummer, even if I say it myself, I can carve out a mean feeling groove on a drumkit with the best of them. It's not that I'm not musical either. Music has always been a huge part of my life and I can't envisage that changing.

But, when I think back to my childhood, I recollect that both my brothers were always good at sport and I wasn't. That's where the difference lies. I reckon now that dancing needs more of a bodily kinaesthetic ability than a musical ability, like sport does. I just don't have that ability to think of a dance move and make it come out of my body the way some do. My head is chock full of slick moves and cool flowing twists. Sadly my body just doesn't do what the mind tells it to do.

Never mind. I am beginning to accept that it is not to be.

My job is behind the drums, not in front of them.

As for my brothers, they're just bastards.

4 comments:

pradeep-jeganathan said...

i like that, i can't dance. :) Nor drum!

sach said...

Your observations lead to one and only one logical conclusion. Rhythmic, you were adopted!! Time to go see your therapist if you have one and if you dont, well, find one. :)

Rhythmic Diaspora said...

Pradeep - But you are easily one of the best "picture of rambutan takers" that I know. Well. you're in my top 10 at least!

Sach - I expected words of comfort from you, not harsh, but possibly correct, advice.

Liberated said...

see maybe involving your mind is the problem...I think you need to let your body feeeeeeeeeellll the music. And by God, dont think, you know what happens when you think about ugly things when you want to get it up (I am not insinuating that you have a problem--just trying to draw an analogy between thought and its effect on the physical)! Thinking is the last thing you wanna do when you want to dance.