POPFESSIONS

Mic Wright

At the age of 11, I was already certain of one thing: ‘The Safety Dance’ by Men Without Hats is one of the finest songs ever laid down on tape. While I publicly threw myself into the Blur/Oasis grudge match – it was wise to plump for Oasis in our form as the bigger lads liked them despite the obvious tedium of ‘Roll With It’ – I was secretly celebrating the joy of this tinny, repetitive little gem. 
 
I discovered ‘The Safety Dance’ via an Eighties compilation in my mum’s car, which featured the delights of Paul Hardcastle’s ‘19’ and the Eurythmics’s ‘1984’ (the year I was born as I would helpfully mention every single time it came on). My mum’s car was the home of the Eighties mixtapes while my dad’s was the domain of Dire Straits. 
 
‘The Safety Dance’ stood out by dint of its oddness. It gets in and out in 2 minutes 43 seconds. It made no sense to me. Why do we need to look at our hands? It seemed like a move guaranteed to get you strange looks in any club. Still, I danced in the privacy of my room, concocting a routine that would best be described as C3-PO having a mild seizure. 
 
Even now I still believe ‘The Safety Dance’ to be a work of utter genius. Hearing the Glee cast slather it in uniform auto-tuned blandness was so traumatic I’m not sure I’ve got over it. While I now know the song is Ivan Doroschuk’s against a ban on pogoing in Canadian nightclubs, it still sounds enjoyably alien to me.
 
Everybody look at your hands!