Of course, there are loads of songs that make me happy. This song by BLØF — one of my favorite Dutch bands, although I lost them a bit after their In het midden van alles record — was a hit with me pretty much from the moment I first heard it. Musically, it isn’t the most interesting song. Lyrically, it is about hope and finding your way and things betting better. And then the chorus kicks in and I get this big smile and …
It is a well-known fact that I don’t have a drivers license. Not by some idealistic principle, but I never had the all-consuming need to obtain one. Under different stars, if I hadn’t moved to Amersfoort when I did and I’d been living in Noorden a bit long — a small village with no public transport to speak of — then, well, who knows. I don’t care about cars, and I wouldn’t know if I’d be driving material anyway. Using public transport I usually get where I need to be. Sure, there are some downsides, but none big enough to plunk down a load of money to find out whether or not I should be driving anyway.
Which makes today’s category a bit daft.
A song to drive to. Well, I can clearly recall sitting on my bike, cycling home on a rather nice spring day, listening to Keane’s “Something Only We Know” (the album version, which won’t play here when embeded) and thinking to myself, “Well, this is pretty perfect…”
When I was sixteen or so, my mother insisted that ballroom dancing was a mandatory part of my upbringing. So I had lessons. I wasn’t very good at it, I didn’t really enjoy it, and despite having a certificate showing that I somehow passed the final test, I cannot recall ever having used those skills again. (Five years later, when my brother was sixteen or so, she had clearly forgotten all about raising him well.)
Once, Anneke van Giersbergen claimed she saw me dancing. But with her being on stage rocking out and me being at the back of the audience, it must have been a trick of the light. Because I might have moved, but it surely could not have been dancing.
Because I don’t dance. When music captures me, I cannot help but let my limbs flay, throw in some air guitar or drums, and go like whatever. But that, that I would not call dancing. That would be a great injustice to those who can.
So, how does “I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’” figure into all of this? Well, I love this song to bits — I have my brother to blame for that — and it sometimes makes me feel like flaying my limbs around.
Being somewhat of a metal-head, there are loads of songs that need to be played loud. I chose this one, because the driving, mechanical, uncompromising pulse of Dr. Avalanche won’t really get to you unless it comes at you like a freight-train.