I love to dance. Which makes Song 36 an odd dedication.
I used to spend hours alone in my room coming up with complicated dance routines to just about every song Madonna ever recorded. Including the songs not from, but inspired by the film Dick Tracy. Anyone? Bueller? Anyone? Anyway, this shit lasted well into high school. But don’t tell anyone OK? Because that is the era in which more people called me “Punk Rock Sarah” than “Sarah” or even “Frier”.
And if you know what N.O.W. means than there is also a really good chance that you saw me perform the entire “Vogue” video routine. And also, you’re welcome.
Later in high school I went to raves. And Chicago was fucking king. But I’m saving those tales for another day. Maybe Waylor Tard’s birthday?
In college we used to spend hours in the dorm room directly below mine going apeshit to things like the Underworld and New Order. And once I got a fake ID and later became legal, Chicago opened up like a freaking oyster. Smartbar, Soul nights at Danny’s, Reggae nights at Empty Bottle, Goth night at Neo…you name it. I promise you I danced all over that shit.
When I lived in Krakow with Urszula we ranged from cool underground electro parties to the most cheeseball tourist traps ever. And this is is when Destiny’s Child was queen and I considered hearing “Don’t Call Me Baby” by Madison Avenue an epic win. You take what you can get man.
But I wasn’t christened “Dance Fever Frier” until way after all of this. It was sometime in my mid 20’s when I was visiting my girl Kelly in NYC. We went to this big CMJ showcase thing and multiple bands were playing in multiple rooms. But in the main lobby area there was a dance floor and some dude, I literally think it might have been Chloe Sevigny’s brother, was killing it. Just killing it. And I couldn’t tear myself away. It didn’t hurt that I also had a pocket full of tickets good for free Red Bull & Vodkas. Thank God this was pre smart phone.
All night my friends were going from room to room checking out the bands and periodically stopping by to see if I was still ok. And I most certainly was. I was dancing. Even though at some points, I was the only one.
Last night I fell asleep on the couch instead of going to dance to two of my favorite DJs in this whole town, Damon & Wayne*.
It’s my theory that they are great DJs because they also love to dance, which changes your perspective about DJing. It just does.
*I am not happy about this, but I am no spring chicken**. Thank God again though, these two do it every month. I will be there again and I will most definitely be wearing socks. Ewe.
**I plan on getting Rolfed by Jill to alleviate at least part of this issue***.
***They don’t call me Dance Fever for nothing.