The Saturday Night Lockdown Disco

I danced last night. It was the mundane drudgery of another lockdown Saturday that did it. In the supportive/stifling warmth of my family home, I felt like my blood was becoming sludgy. It was getting stuck in my joints, in sinews, attaching itself to atrophysing muscles.

I know this feeling well, and I know it rarely ends well for me. So I reached out to a new whatsapp group of ‘say yes’ friends and said: anyone fancy a dance later? Three tracks. All uplifting. A chance to shake a leg.

The answers quickly pinged in: Yeaaaaaaaaaaaas. Yes yes when please. Yep, depending if if the the kids are in bed. No, but I love that you asked. No, but please ask me next time. Yes, yes, no, no, yes.

Three tracks. For the hour before kick off I deep dive into old Spotify playlists, hunting for the perfect three. That selection named ‘2019’ where I seemed to listen to Rhye and Lord Huron only for a whole year. That selection called ‘Waves’, a mini 5rhythms mixtape, where MC Solaar’s staccato base smashed into Dionne’s chaotic Osunlade, wrapping us in deep house groove.

I wondered if I was going too leftfield. I don’t know this group of people well enough yet, I’m not sure how they’ll take to dancing to obscure house and afrobeat. I refocus. If I’d been promised an upbeat shake-a-leg dance on a Saturday night, what would I want to hear?

I pull out of Waves and jump into ‘Tory’s birthday 90s bangers’. Suddenly we’re in the dancefloor group hugs zone. Return of the Mack slides into Wonderwall, 2 Princes and Blueboy. I hit play on Hey Ya. Yes. Track one.

With Outkast for company I shake my hips as I set my sights on track two. Body in a groove. Ok, 80s disco. Smiling. What is that track? Commundards. YES. Don’t leave me this way baby. My heart is full of love and it’s ALL FOR YOU. Piano chord melodies and synth ‘demo’ on repeat. YES Jimmy.

Time has gone and we’re starting. 8.30. Four new friends in four living rooms located up and down the country, revealing our little rectangle worlds. We ask how we are all doing. A quick mental health check to make sure everyone is staying afloat. They are. I don’t have track three. It will come to me.

I’m suddenly a bit self conscious. Is this just a mad thing to do on a Saturday night? Are THEY now self-conscious? Are we actually going to do this?

We already are. So I set the rules: dance like no one’s watching. If you get stuck in your head, focus on your feet. Dance how you feel, feel how you dance. And just like that, we’re dancing.

Outkast sets the tone, and I dance like a teenager conscious of wanting to look good dancing. Grooving my way across the laptop camera. Looking away from the screen, and then at it…just to make sure everyone else is also dancing in their living rooms. They are. Phew. I focus less on them.

The Communards kicks in, and remaining inhibitions melt. Disco was designed for this. You can’t dance to disco and try to look good. You either look good, or you don’t, and honestly it doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is you participate. Disco has no place for spectators.

Don’t leave me this way is a longer song than I remember, but I’ve stopped caring. Body shaking arms in the air lip syncing butt shuffling as if I’m definitely definitely in Studio 54. It’s the mid 80s and we’re wearing oversized shirts and eye-liner and dancing in that side to side motion with arms bent up in a running posture. We’re smiling. All of us. Alive now. As if we’ve been here, doing this, forever.

The track is coming to an end and I realise I don’t have a track three. I know I want to keep this good-vibes feeling and I reach for the ever-ready classic that has never ever failed to get even the surly and unsure among us singing/shouting like a rock star. Don’t Stop Me Know’s slow opener starts and we all look at each other through zoom rectangles. Yes, it’s Queen. Yes, we are doing this. I notice someone do a little side body stretch. Getting ready.

And we are GO. Running on the spot, arms pointing purposefully at an imaginary crowd, head shaking and hand grabs, face scrunched with high notes and all-in commitment. Someone has found a spatula and is throwing their body at air guitar. We try to sing along with each other but we’re out of sync. It doesn’t matter. It’s Saturday night during lockdown 3 on a rainy February and we are DANCING. TO QUEEN. YES mate.

It ends, ceremoniously, with a series of slow arm waves. La-da-da-da-daaaaa-da-da-dah-da-dah. Then silence.

We make eye contact. Nod sagely. Good work team. Enjoy the rest of your night.

End meeting for all. Breathe.

Notice blood is pumping smoothly again.