Dance Music, that Old Stuffed Bear

Dance music has been a staple in our world for a long time, it’s been shaped and molded just as much as we have. Today, in 2016, I feel we’ve hit a certain three-tier wall that divides those who gladly participate in the dance music world, those who strictly do not, and those who feel they should not. It’s a phenomenon that has become more apparent to me as I have approached my 26 years of age, and though I know that is by no means old, it seems a vast amount of people think it is to be involved in the dance music world, whether you agree or not.

“One more year, one last hurrah. Then that’s it.”

That’s what my best friend told me several months ago when we came across several photos from music festivals on Instagram. I had asked her if she missed it, since it had been about three years since we had been to a big festival like EDC or Coachella, etc. She had replied that she did, and then with the above quote. At the time, I had agreed with her immediately, half because I was excited that she was even considering it and I jumped on the chance, and half because my affinity to that logic hadn’t quite set in yet. For the next few months I held fast to the idea that one more year would “do it” for me, that there had to be a cap-off to festival-going and show-attending. The problem was that every time I thought about it, about the fact that there had to be a cap-off, I was bothered, so bothered that I even got a little sad when I’d think about it.

I started to realize that what bothered me was the fact that many of my friends, my best friend included, saw the festivals, shows and music that we all used to love so much as something that had to be let go and grown out of. That thought depressed me. Ithad turned into that stuffed bear we all went to sleep with when we were kids and dragged around behind us wherever we went: we eventually had to let that bear go. I didn’t like that I was feeling like the last kid dragging her bear behind her.

The thing was, I loved that damn bear, and I still do (by bear I mean dance music). I play even the most outrageous, bass imploding equal to death music in my car because I just plain and simply like it, and though I was finding out that those who were like me seemed few and far between, I still had a small group of friends that held tight grips to their bears just like me. Music and all of its culture and community was never meant to “finish” or “end," it was always meant to evolve, which is why it’s still here and always will be. My 80-year-old father has a record collection that could rival Tower Record’s (bless its soul) vault. Every morning that man gets up and puts on his headset and just chooses one, all of which are Jazz records with a select few Blues. There are songs that are so old you can still hear that little static sound before the music actually sets in. There are feelings and aspects about his music that I might never understand, but I do understand the look on his face when he thinks he’s alone and that one song hits him; that’s what happiness is.

That’s how I feel being a part of the dance music community; I may not love the fuzzy leg warmers that make me sneeze, having to see young girls’ butts hanging out of their prematurely cut jean shorts or putting on flower crowns, but to me, those are just side-effects of the whole. And besides, who ever said it wasn’t fun to just bite the bullet and dress up from time to time? What’s that old saying? If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

It took me a while to understand that I was feeling like the relationship between myself and everything dance music related had to end soon only because of a preconceived notion I never believed in in the first place. It was comical after the initial realization, then sad, and then it was just gone. At the end of the day, we are all here to make ourselves and others happy, right? Simple as that; whatever is going to get you there, do it. I had to learn to allow myself that teddy bear, as everyone (hopefully) will at one point or another.

Anyone and everyone out there, I hope you hold fast to that teddy bear, because all those memories are what’s going to be in tow behind you at the end of the day, month and year. When you’re old enough to eat, sleep and relax all day and night, I hope you can pull old Care Bear down off the shelf and remind yourself that you lived. You owe it to yourself.