We bought our tickets to an Eagles tribute dinner dance, the third retro event of this type that we have attended in the last year. Run by the City Beach Function Centre in Wollongong, we were invited to all of them by Lesley, one of the ladies in Out of the Blue Singers, the choir in which I sing. Along with about a dozen other members of the choir and their partners, we went to the first dinner dance to give it a go. It was a bit of a ‘why not ‘decision. The food was great, the wine free flowing and the music terrific to dance to. So, that was enough reason to go to the second, which featured a band that played sixties music. Again, it was heaps of fun.
Although much of my choir’s repertoire could be described as retro pop, I have an embarrassingly poor knowledge of pop music, and had barely heard of the Eagles let alone any of their songs. In fact, on the afternoon before the show, I did a bit of googling and came upon and listened to Hotel California. Immediately, I realised that I knew some of the tune and just one line of the song – Welcome to Hotel California. But in listening to the lyrics for the first time I was struck by the surreal and terrifying story that they tell – a man is seduced by ‘such a lovely place, such a lovely face’ but cannot escape from some brutal entrapping force that pervades the hotel in the desert:
‘Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
‘Relax’ said the night man,
‘We are programmed to receive.
You can check out any time you like,
But you can never leave!’
To be honest, we were uncertain about the merits of going to this third show. Steve was nursing an injured knee (running with one of daughters and our eldest grandson a few months before) and this was going to be a serious impediment to his enjoyment.
Neither of us is a confident dancer. My ability to move on the dance floor is about as good as my ability to master the choreography that occasionally accompanies our choral performances. However, I don’t really care, I just love letting my hair down and moving in any way the music suggests to me. And, in coming to these shows Steve’s strategy is to ply himself with enough alcohol to feel relaxed enough to just dance like a crazy. There are no half measures for him, so suggestions that he could take it easy in order to avoid further hurting his knee were met with near contempt.
Even if we sat out a few of the songs, when we did get up on the floor, we both did our thing, moving like idiots together, becoming 16 and 18 again and not caring that were really much older.
Probably because we sat out more than we had at the previous shows, I had the opportunity to take in more of what was happening around me. The crowd was dominated by people in their fifties and sixties. Many in fashionable finery, others in jeans, a few wearing those ‘comfort’ shoes that are designed for oldies. One tall bloke discarded his shoes and was just wearing his socks.
Groups of women were dancing, dancing, dancing in sheer delight as if there was no tomorrow. Arms swinging, bodies twisting and turning, legs stepping, kicking, feet tapping irresistibly in time with the music. The sheer freedom and exhilaration of it all. Sidestepping in chorus line unison or moving in and out of ever forming and reforming circles of friendship.
Then there were the couples. Many embraced, arm in arm, lost to the rest of the crowd. A few old guys with crook hips or knees and big bellies swaggered on to the floor, hips and knees rocking, feet barely shuffling but nevertheless transported by the music back to discos, pubs and Police Boys’ dances from 40 or 50 years ago. We were all teenagers feeling hip, groovy, hanging out with our lovers and friends. Strutting, cooing, cuddling, arms romantically clutched around each other’s necks, staring into each other’s eyes.
We are avid theatregoers, we love seeing films and going to concerts, but neither of us has much appetite for going to the ballet or watching contemporary dance. I don’t think we really get it as an art form. But probably for the first time in my life I realised how utterly enrapturing and magical dance can be as an expression of love and friendship. And by contrast with the seductive nightmarish qualities of the Hotel California, we could happily leave our sweet fantasy world when the music died.
Louise Meyrick
Meandering Thoughts 