When you feel out of place and no one else knows your story, art can bridge the gap. To me, this is a tried and true story that humans keep telling for good reason. Whatever the reality was, I felt like my experience was not reflected in the people, places and things around me. So what did I do?
I played a lot of video games, obviously.
The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time mimicked my journey through my strange world as a desi Muslim in the Illinois suburbs, as did Super Mario 64, Star Wars: Shadows of the Empire, and Aladdin for SEGA Genesis, just to name a few.
But I needed more than those hyper-manipulated fantasy worlds, so I reached for the guitar sitting in front of me that my brother hadn’t used. In those nylon strings I found a language for me to interpret my thoughts beyond what I understood at the time (I was 13 years old). It was something fun for me to do and lessen my addiction to video games at first, but eventually music became the medium through which I saw the world. When I can’t put my thoughts into words, I can still put them into music.
This was tough to swallow because of the absurd undercurrent that runs through some interpretations of Islam that music, or at least stringed instruments, are too intoxicating and thus not allowed. It's no exaggeration to say that I experience my spirituality through melody and timbres of different instruments — that's just how I operate.
The following is a chronology of how I came to find my favorite genre of music. Hopefully you find some of your experience in them too!
Wolf Parade — Apologies to the Queen Mary (2005)
I worked at the coffee shop in the mall, and if you’ve worked in a coffee shop, you know the prestige of getting to play your own playlist. So, excitedly one day I popped in my favorite new album and an older man heard the first song “I Am My Father’s Son” and said, “You call this music?!?” UGH gramps, you wouldn’t get it, it’s art.
Ten years later, I totally get what gramps was saying; the two singers have abrasive voices (one sounds like he's yodeling and the other like he's about to vomit) but songs like “I’ll Believe in Anything” and “Shine a Light” taught me how to dance and be emo and thoughtful all at the same time. Spencer Krug’s quote in an interview saying “I only make music that I can dance to” has been the basis for my music making ever since. Dance rock is totally a thing, sad dancing was totally a thing.
Justice — Cross (2007)
The crunchy, compressed, dirty bass they used is still the gold standard for dance music today. I'm pretty sure I didn't know what I was hearing, and even though I didn't know how to dance, I wanted to move something (usually some form of head nodding/banging). The worst part of my Justice experience is that I passed up the chance to go see them twice because I didn't wanna travel uptown or spend the money. I later regretted it so much and listened to them in my room — talk about sadly dancing.
LCD Soundsystem — Sound of Silver (2007)
I recently read that “Someone Great” is about the passing of James Murphy’s therapist, something that changed my interpretation of the song drastically. But that song and “All My Friends” are the epitome of sad dancing: singing about loss, about the passing of time and missing your friends over arpeggiating synths and tightly repetitive disco drums and drum machine loops. It's fun, bittersweet, full of angst, but full of dance-punk vibes.
Cut Copy — In Ghost Colours (2004), Bright Like Neon Lights (2008)
Since I grew up on indie rock and guitars, I was looking for a way to blend that with the budding dance music of the time. Cut Copy took what New Order started and upped the production (read: more bass) but still kept some of those snappy chorus-laden guitar riffs I always liked from the ‘80s. “Time stands still when I think of you” and “when I'm looking for you, I call your number but I can't get through” and “one thing that I just can't conceive is how to let you go” are really bittersweet, poignant moments we face in love and life, but they are so much better when dancing.
The Weeknd — House of Balloons (2011)
Before The Weeknd became a wealthy megastar singing over and over about how supposedly messed up his sex life is, he made mixtapes that were more convincing he was in pain. The first five-six songs on his very first mixtape are all mostly slow jams that are catchy as hell and blend electronic music with R&B. Sure, he’s rapping about how you and I should get together even though I know we're bad for each other because we always do a shit ton of drugs and maybe sell our bodies for fame, but fuckit lemme sing about it real nice and you can jam without thinking about it too hard.
Twin Shadow, Toro y Moi, Neon Indian, Blood Orange — Discography from 2010-2016
I'm grouping these guys together because they all combine guitars, synths, ‘80s drum machines, and layering. They aren't the types of songs to get you hype and break it down in da club, but the rhythms and melodies still have some of those qualities. And of course, they sing about less than positive things like trying forget about breakups, not wanting to be in love because it's such a roller coaster, and how we're always trying to be cool but it doesn't matter. You know, really happy things.
Aeroplane — I Crave Paris (2011)
Disclosure — Settle (2013)
Kaytranada — 99.9% (2016)
Mark Redito (Discography on Soundcloud)
For me, these constitute the most recent iteration of sad dancing — highly electronic, sometimes repetitive and chill dance tracks that tug at your heart strings with their melodies. “I Crave Paris” is a mashup of two different songs and a remix by Aeroplane which takes a song about a romantic dream of trying to live in Paris one day and mashes it up with another track of longing after the boy who looks at someone else the way she wants him to look at her. This track is probably peak sad dancing because the singer is clearly sad, but I've heard people get hella excited and scream for this song at DJ sets — how?? Do they not hear the lyrics? Probably not, I never usually listen myself. But that's a quality of the best art — accessible on the surface level and deeper as well.
Sad dancing is escapist, cathartic, useless, and a necessary product of our confusing media and music age. Spend enough time on SoundCloud, and you can create your own genre too. It's actually as simple as picking your favorite word and adding a hashtag. Don't worry if you're the only one; it doesn't matter. Happy dancing!!
Yusuf Siddiquee is a musician, producer, and mipster living in Brooklyn, NY. He also likes to cook and play Super Smash Bros for N64 ONLY.