hannah & the public display of rhythm (non-music review)

Okay, this is in no way a music review or advertisement. I don’t own a fly buys card, I am not a gym member and I am not the leader of some sort of religious sect where I will lure you into my fold by the power of my mind and levitation skills.

On Wednesday night I saw a really awesome band called Hannah & The Public Display of Rhythm. I went with absolutely no idea of what their music sounded like, given that I missed their EP launch due to a cough due to cold. And I have to say, very pleasantly surprised. Really good lyrics, Hannah has a seriously good voice and the band’s general level of cool made me, a consistently cool person, question my own level of cool.

However, I don’t want the band to think that I didn’t have a good time, nor the people I went with, nor anyone who was in direct eye line of me. I have a condition, you see, called publicmovingaroundalotphobia. I can’t move at gigs. I can’t dance. I can’t do the nodding to music thing that most people can do. I can’t tap my foot, click my fingers or sway in time to the supposedly phat beats. I do my particular dance move which consists of me standing dead still, arms crossed and every so often, I uncross the arms and play with my finger nails absently because I thought it would be rude to take a Rubix cube with me so that my hands would have something to do. Sometimes I lean on things. I might smile too and if I’m drinking lemonade, I focus very intently on the position of my straw in relation to the ice. To those unaware of my condition it would seem that I’m not enjoying myself.

But I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY am! I’m just not able to physically show it, beyond a smile and an enthusiastic clap. There are reasons, of course, but there is an element of it that remains a mystery to me. Firstly, I usually have a bag the size of egypt with me and since it carries pretty much everything I own in there, including my Star Wars DVD collection, I don’t want to put it down for fear of thieves. So if I dance with said bag, it’s kind of like there’s a fully grown male hanging off my arm, but who is nothing but dead weight and is definitely not moving in time to the music. Secondly, I’m a poorly balanced person. If I dance, even in my living room, I fall over an awful lot. I consider it a vital public safety infringement if I dance within a three metre radius of anyone so that rules me out for most venues apart from gigs on a giant salt lake. Thirdly, I can’t do sexy. I can’t do the whole worship my lady lumps with the seductiveness of my very glossy lips boy, movement. My brand of dance is more full frontal bodily assault on all the optical senses and usually involves some sort of jumping so I feel a little self-conscious doing this in front of rational thinking people. The fourth element is a mystery to me. I can’t explain it.

But in summary, Hannah & The Public Display of Rhythm, I loved your gig and your overall coolness and plan to see you again live sometime soon. You won’t miss me. I’ll be the one, leaning, standing still, crossing my arms and gazing wistfully at the dance floor as everyone else does what I sorely can’t.

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