Amber Bird | Blog

I was a dancing queen. For a while there, I never missed the chance to dance all night. And, by all night, I mean I’d show up around 9pm and dance until they kicked me out at 4am. I wasn’t there to socialise or flirt or drink. Water and the occasional “hello” were the only things likely to pass my lips. I danced.

And I didn’t just sway. I didn’t just shuffle. I moved. I dove into the dance.

A good night was one that ended the next morning, drenched in sweat. Muscles worn. Scars on my feet and ankles that didn’t go away entirely until I’d been away from the dance floor for almost a year.

I was raised on dancing. That’s what we do in my family. From the time we’re wee and barely able to stand on our own, we dance. When one sibling didn’t plan for dancing at their wedding, we pulled a car up close enough to give us music and we all danced anyway.

I always say that music has to move me or make me want to move or I just can’t give it a chance. The other night, I didn’t even like the music I was overhearing, but I found myself moving my head and swaying a bit anyway. Just like I’ve accidentally found myself getting emotional over songs that really weren’t my style but had lyrics that hit just right.

I think it’s in my genes. Or I was socialised into it too early to know that it was nurture, not nature.

Whatever it is, I just know that dancing is a deeper fall into the music. No surprise I fall into music, get lost. But when my body gets added in…It’s like worship, meditation, transportation to a whole other place.

If I’m celebrating, it’s one of the best ways I know to throw in my joyous energies.

If life is beating me down, it’s a whole other state of being where all the troubles and hurts pour out, just for a moment, and I’m outside of them.

If the music I’m hearing (at a show or a club) is good, if it moves me, it’s like full-body applause. (And if you’re at one of my shows and you dance, that’s how I see it…)

And if I’m putting on a show for you, the dancing on stage is me committing to the songs I’m giving and their emotions. It’s part of the emotional integrity of the set. And as I draped over a yoga ball doing vocal exercises the other day, I found myself wondering what it would be like if I someday didn’t feel moved to dance whilst we performed. Not even to one song. And I don’t see it. I can’t see not at least swaying, swinging my hips, nodding my head.

So, at the end of the day, when I assess my music (don’t all creators assess their creations?), I always figure that there’s at least that. I feel the songs. And other people have danced, so other people felt them too. Which I figure means I must be doing okay…