Doing My Dance

I’ve always considered my music taste relatively eclectic, and this is something of which I’m quite proud, because snobbery in music really gets on my nerves. We’re all guilty of it at some time or another, but most of us grow out of it before long. On my iPod there’s everything from Motorhead to Michael Buble, but some particular genres can mean much more to certain listeners. Today I was reminded of mine, and its rather unusual significance in my life.

In the car, on the way back from a day out with the family, “No Good (Start the Dance)” by The Prodigy was playing on the radio. Mum, Dad and Louis were all completely unfazed by this pounding track, but had they not been there I’d most definitely have been moving around like a maniac. Until recently, dance music was a guilty pleasure, but lately I’ve been more open about my love for it. It’s gradually occupying more and more of the aforementioned iPod, and I’ve also added The Prodigy’s latest album The Day Is My Enemy to my growing vinyl collection, taking no notice of those who believe it’s nothing more than a racket. Like anyone else who revels in the beats, the adrenaline courses through my body and I am lifted to an almost euphoric state, but this can be down to more than the music – as another important element is my “flapping”. This is something with links to my cerebral palsy. Sudden electrical charges in my brain cause bodily spasms, namely ones that cause my arms to flap wildly. It often happens when I’m happy or incredibly excited, therefore explaining its connection to the anthemic and uplifting nature of dance music.

I used to flap occasionally at school, where not everyone understood exactly why I did it. I wouldn’t say anyone mocked me for it, but appropriately enough I was asked by some people in middle school to “do the dance”. Just as they didn’t realise it was actually an effect of my disability, they were also unaware of the music that made it happen at home! Today it is a source of some amusement within my family, as well as some frustration (only because they believe I should be doing it far less often at 18), but to me it does have sentimental value. No matter when or where it happens, there can only ever be a happy thought accompanying it – be it of said music or any other big interest, such as Formula One. 18 or not, that’s one of those things that money simply cannot buy, and if nothing else it gives me yet another reason to love my passions.




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