Alors on Dance

The comparisons between surfing and dancing are so old that they turned into a cliché. Add that to the number of surfers who play music and of musicians who surf, and you easily end up with a myriad of common places. Most of them revolve around the idea of performance and, more particularly, performance art. Surfing, dancing and playing music can all have an intentional aspect to them (which is just a fancy way of saying that they are meant to affect others). Ideally, you can even convey some sort of beauty, achieved through a series of technical prowess’s that arouse an emotional reaction.

But the other side, often less mentioned, is the inner exploration allowed by these activities. In the Rasta and Steph section of Taylor Steele’s proximity, Rastovich illustrates his view on surfing with a musical metaphor: “dance like no one is watching”. And even though Steph’s response seems to go in the performance direction — “you must be a very good dancer” — the point is not lost on her: deep down, he surfs for himself. In Rasta’s case, this is true even outside the water. He dances to his own beat, as the saying goes: his lifestyle, as well as his actual surfing style, is not a show put up for others to see. And I believe this is the true comparison to be made. We surf because of that inner beat, of that willingness to explore our emotions and feelings (joy, fear, angst, rage, pride, ecstasy, frustration, you name it). Something deeply primal urges us to process them through our body. And, if we are lucky, we even find that beautiful moment when our conscient evaporates and everything inside of us flows in harmony with the ocean, the air and the light. It can be aggressive or peaceful, calm or exciting, but it is always present: an oblivious moment of self-expression.

And this is exactly what Stromae’s song is all about: that moment when we become lost in dancing. Or, to use his words: “alors on dance pour oublier tous les problèmes”