Joanna Bowman: On the joys of twerking, jerking and beyond…

Joanna discusses movin’ and groovin’ in the land of Fife.


On the return from yet another ball (#standrewsproblems) – this one the University Hall Ball – what struck me as the most notable feature of the night was the difference in, and the evolution of people’s dancing styles.

This particular ball opened with a degree of decorum, beginning with delicate sways to the dulcet tones of The Alleycats (brilliant, by the way) and descended over the course of the next few hours into a scrum of flailing limbs and moves that certainly should have come with a health and safety warning – my humblest and most public of apologies ought to be offered to Isabelle, the friend I accidentally head-butted in a particularly vigorous hair flipping moment. What has to be disseminated in the next few words is how and why this transformation occurs. Whilst many will be jumping to the most obvious of conclusions – alcohol – I have a firm belief in it being something more powerful: the power of group thought combined with dance (I feel like I should be an extra in Fame with a philosophy like that).

At the beginning of any night out, us revellers are buoyed up on notions of the fun ahead with visions of what might be. This energy is transformed into contained movements, trying to maintain an air of mystery about us. However, as the night progresses, previously moderated excitement turns into an almost apocalyptic mass of bodies crushed together. Some of the finest fleeting moments I’ve experienced have been on a dance floor – friendships like no others are born: that moment where you find someone else who falls into the category of “wild” and “possessed” (to name but two words thrown in my direction last night) whilst dancing is one like no other. There is a connection made whilst gyrating that is difficult to replicate at any other time, especially in the harsh light of day. To illustrate the transformation undergone by dancers over the course of an evening, I’d like to point towards our Senior Student who was changed from the responsible, organised stronghold underpinning the hall’s spirit and day-to-day workings to a fabulous dancer, with twerking and moves causing him to fly across the floor, allowing us a view of his life never before seen.

By the end of the night, the now transformed floor has been whipped into such a frenzied state of excitement that a traditional Peruvian pan-pipe song would keep us dancing but certain songs are guaranteed to make crowds dance with reckless abandon. You know the songs I mean; those that DJs keep for the end of the night to ensure the evening can end with the requisite “bang”. It is when the opening notes of Mr Brightside or I Love It are heard that the dancing truly becomes spectacular, and the night finishes on the high promised at the tension filled beginning.

Really, is there any better way to spend a night? We’ll deal with the painful feet and legs tomorrow.