Danc­ing like no one is watch­ing

The Pilot - - Editorial - Steve Bartlett Steve Bartlett is an edi­tor with SaltWire Net­work. He dives into the Deep End each Mon­day to es­cape re­al­ity. He’ll post video of him­self per­form­ing “Nau­ti­cal Dis­as­ter” on YouTube if At­lantic Canada do­nates more than $2,000 to down­iewen­jack.

I’ve got an ear­worm. Thank­fully, it’s not from the “Frozen” sound­track.

That movie, very, very re­luc­tantly, was the source of a pre­vi­ous stuck song dur­ing the phase when Child 2.0 wanted to change her name to “Elsa and Anna.”

Me: “Hello, I’d like you to meet my daugh­ter, El­saan-danna.”

Stranger: “El San­tana? She doesn’t look Mex­i­can?”

Me: “No, Elsa and Anna.” Stranger: “She has a twin?” Me: “No, her name is Elsa AND Anna!”

Stranger: “Geez, buddy, let it go.”

Any­way ...

The song on my in­ter­nal loop is “Nau­ti­cal Dis­as­ter,” the great­est Cana­dian rock song of all time.

It’s been oc­cu­py­ing my mind since a mag­i­cally Hip con­cert — the sec­ond-last show on last sum­mer’s tour — in Ot­tawa on Aug. 18.

That was eight months ago to­mor­row, and the ear­worm con­tin­ues to dig deeper.

When I’m alone or con­tently fo­cused, I break into, “I had this dream where I rel­ished the fray and the scream­ing filled my head all day …”

This can hap­pen while do­ing dishes, walk­ing up stairs, or stopped at a light.

Pretty much any­where, any­time.

Prob­lem one: I can’t sing. Prob­lem two: I don’t re­mem­ber the words to the sec­ond verse un­less the song is play­ing. (I’m hor­ri­ble when it comes to lyri­cal re­call or mis­heard lyrics. Hence an em­bar­rass­ment of my youth: “Hold me closer, Tony Danza.”)

Prob­lem three: I’ve been watch­ing Hip live videos on YouTube and have un­ex­pect­edly in­te­grated Gord Downie’s ac­tions into my per­for­mance.

These three prob­lems are like fed­eral Con­ser­va­tive lead­er­ship can­di­dates for me. They sim­ply don’t mix well.

I learned that the hard way — in the men’s room at work, of all places.

From out of nowhere, I flipped to “Tom Cruise- Old Time Rock And Roll-Risky Busi­ness” mode and launched into “Nau­ti­cal Dis­as­ter.”

On the floor in front of the uri­nal and out­side the stall, I was go­ing full con­cert, with max­i­mum vol­ume and dance.

“I had this dream where I rel­ished the fray and the scream­ing filled my … Off the coast of France, Dear.”

It was around “Dear” when I heard some­one com­ing and, thank­fully, brought my per­for­mance to a screech­ing halt.

The door opened. It was one of my em­ploy­ees.

I don’t know if he heard any­thing, be­cause he just smiled and said hello as I quickly ex­ited my makeshift stage. Phew!

Imag­ine if he had caught me.

“You wouldn’t be­lieve what I saw Steve do­ing in the men’s room,” he’d whis­per to another mem­ber of our team.

“Danc­ing and singing a Trag­i­cally Hip song.”

“I know,” the other would re­ply, “I be­lieve I walked by his car the other day and heard him talk­ing loudly to him­self about a light­house on a socket. We should call HR.” Ah­h­h­h­h­hhh! Not HR!

The sen­si­ble side of me — the news­pa­per edi­tor who has to make su­per se­ri­ous de­ci­sions and strives to lead by ex­am­ple — knows this ear­worm should be re­moved be­fore it leads to my own nau­ti­cal dis­as­ter.

But there’s also a part of me — the life­long mu­sic lover who brags about be­ing fol­lowed by MC Ham­mer on Twit­ter — hopes it will stay.

This side of me wants the mem­o­ries of last sum­mer’s Hip show and Gord Downie’s per­for­mance to re­main firmly stuck on re­play in my head for­ever.

Whatever hap­pens, just don’t judge me if you catch me spin­ning into a uri­nal and singing about scream­ing that filled my head all day.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Canada

© PressReader. All rights reserved.