Dance away

Admittedly, I went a bit crazy with the Roxy Music homage this week--but, obviously, from the video above, I haven't stopped just yet. I should have definitely included "Dance Away," the big hit from their 1979 release, Manifesto, in my top ten moments in Rox-'n'-Roll history--a gorgeous pop tune with a haunting sound and poignant lyrics, such as--

It's funny how I could never cry/
Until that night when you passed by/
Hand in hand with another guy/
You're dressed to kill/
And guess who's dying?

Loneliness is a crowded room/
Full of open hearts that turn to stone/
All together all alone

There was I many times a fool/
I hope and pray--but not too much/
Out of reach is out of touch/
All the way is far enough

Yes, it's very romantic, maybe even a tad too too, but "Dance Away" is a precious little gem of an unheralded pop song, at least in my opining. Like I said about the discofied remix of "Angel Eyes," it might represent something of the beginning of the end for Ye Olde Roxy Music and the birth of NuRoxy--and you'd be perfectly fine in lamenting that, depending on your taste in such musical matters. NuRoxy was decidedly not Old Roxy, and while NuRoxy and Bryan Ferry solo transitioned successfully to a new, more glamorous era, some spark, some quaintness, some vitality of Old Roxy might have been lost in the metamorphosis. The caterpillar became a gorgeous butterfly, but the caterpillar itself was quite beautiful in its own right.

But what's past is past. It's no longer 1979. Or so I keep reminding myself.

Anyway, maybe this past week, Valentine's week, predisposed me to Roxy memories, placing me in a romantic, wistful, slightly mournful frame. For there were sharp reminders this week, little pricks (but not those kind of pricks) to my tender consciousness, that I am single again.

Normally, I do not necessarily mind this. I have been single before and, in fact, have spent most of my adolescent and adult lives being single. I do like it, maybe even prefer it at times, as it affords me a freedom that I would often rather have than be settled in with someone or some situation that limits or restricts me.

Let's be clear here: I'm not talking about having limitless sexual freedom. While I'm no Promise Ring-tonedeaf virgin, sex for me has primarily been about the expression of love, affection, communion, and even creativity, than it's ever been about a relentless physical need, frustration, conquest, challenge, goal, habit, or hobby. I find most people's expression of unlimited sexual freedom to be . . . actually rather limited. Personally, I know I do better being with someone I like, love, and trust--or at the very least have some sort of mental or personal connection with, not just a physical attraction to. Only then do I feel free.

Although every need has its place, its need to be met, and sometimes those needs need to be met sooner rather than later, love or no love, trust aside, caution to the wind, one way or another.

Ahem and amen.

I think what's really more important to me is the freedom to think, feel, explore, and be myself. I don't believe I'm that out there or radical in my thinking, constantly pushing toward the horizon and beyond to some personal Valhalla. No, I inhabit a rather more conventional world, some middle sphere, Swedish Third Way, intersex textuality (figuratively speaking) between the conventional and the radical, the traditional and the libertine. I'm not at home in either extreme climate, which makes it very difficult to find the right level of temperature in the either/or thermostat of our binary mindset.

And I've never found--or never found for long enough--someone else who occupies that same plane. Or maybe I just didn't stay still long enough to realize what I might have found.

So why suddenly all this candy-hearts-and-sad-lovesongs emotion? Well, it was a week, a week of trying to explain in French that I was "célibataire" (which means both single and celibate), of old boyfriends suddenly reappearing out of the mists of time, of underscored frustrations in life and work, and of course, Roxy Music.

Normally, this would get to me, but maybe only briefly and not so acutely. What's different now is that I'm 50 and single, I'm 50 and most of my friends live elsewhere, and I'm 50 and get more of my social interaction with my contemporaries online rather than in person. All very modern, I suppose, but not always a satisfying replacement for the real thing.

What's different at 50 is that I find myself to be a more relationship-oriented person yet realize that I am a person one who has rarely been in a relationship over the last 50 years.


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Editor's note: This posting was originally much longer. I've clipped it here and hope to rework the other part into future postings. Patience . . .