It’s time I wrote on my personal relationship between music and dance. A quick etymology, the word music derives from the word Muse, Greek goddesses of the arts. They were invoked by the Greek poets so that the Muses might inspire them in their endeavors, and generations of poets after them continued the tradition.
Now, I personally don’t believe in the Muses themselves, but it’s hard to deny that music does not have a life all its own. Paired with dance, the combination is divine. It was music that lead me to dance, not dance itself. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep this story as short and non-flowery as possible so as not to bore my readers.
An extremely close second hobby to dance is singing. In fact, I sang before I danced. Mom convinced me in the seventh grade to join the middle school choir and I’ve been hooked on music ever since. A year later, I discovered dance. There was something in simultaneous movement to music that just allured me, and it’s hard to describe. Singers, indeed any other artist, find self-extension in their craft and dancing for me was like singing with my body. You still had to stay in rhythm, interpretation was key, and general knowledge didn’t hurt, either. When I took dance as an elective my senior year, our teacher began with elementary musical theory, such as time signatures, beats, and the notes themselves.
So, I’ll try (read: note the previous word) to relate music and dance together as it pertains to myself. Music is the life-blood, the vessel of dance. It supports creative movement much like our own blood supports our body. Movement on its own can exist, but without music it’s but a hollow husk. I love music and dance. Both loves continually reinforce each other.
It’s odd, and slightly disconcerting that I have no desire to attend college dances. Being a dancer, one would think I would love to go and jam on the floor. Plus, I could make new friends and possibly get them interested in dance. The music isn’t too appealing, unfortunately. Don’t get me wrong. If Beyoncè or the Black Eyed Peas, come on the radio, I’ll dance along. But the majority of it isn’t palatable, and it convinces me to take a rain-check on these events. Sure, I could always go there and chat. Howerver, it’s a school dance. If I’m going to go to a school dance, I’m going there to dance. I must admit that I feel out of my element during those occasions because I just don’t know how to dance to rap and pop. A great guy-friend of mine took hip-hop lessons for years. He could dance to all those songs, but I’ve never been interested in hip-hop enough to invest in lessons.
All that being said, I found my element in ballroom. Ballroom has also lead me to some great musical artists. I’ve been watching “Dancing with the Stars” since its second season, and the music was much better than it is now. I heard the songs “Strangers in the Night” and “Mambo Italiano” on that show. I looked up the first one, and found out it was by a man named Frank Sinatra. Now I constantly practice to his music whilst singing along happily on my own portable dance floor. The second one was a bit harder, but a neighbor with Italian heritage loaned me a CD by someone named Dean Martin. I became hooked on Dino, too. He remains my only, albeit dead, celebrity crush. And, there’s no better feeling, in my view, then when you discover your favorite song can work in the ballroom.
O Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, Muses of Hymn and Dance, give life to my song, give Voice a chance. I sing of Music, its union with Dance vivifies, they complement each other, renew and intensify.
Without Music, Dance an empty husk may be, may their union remain steadfast, continue eternally. In Dance, the body vocalizes and sings, partake of it abundantly, partake the joy it brings.
I dance my dance, I sing my song, I enjoy both however long. I hope to spread love to others through my art. The bonds that are forged can never part.
I sing in honor of what I love, two gifts showered from high above. To all my readers I just say this: may your life be filled with love, dance, and bliss.