I channel surfed in bed last night. I don't usually watch tv in bed at night (unless I can't sleep), but I went to be so early that I decided to just surf and see what was on.
MTV was repeating the VMA's. If you need a translation of that, then you're hopelessly living in the 18th century and are beyond redemption.
Something glittery and glammy caught my eye. It had movement. It had funk. And it had a beat. A REAL beat. A real, catchy beat with a real, snappy tune to go with it. Without even thinking about it I was wiggling my toes in time with the beat (no mean feat, given the fact that neuropathy has practically killed feelings in both my feet). I was enamored. I was enthralled. I was in LOVE!!!
Once in a blue moon this happens. I remember the first time I heard a song with the refrain, "the morning sun is rising like a red rubber ball" on the car radio and nearly drove off the road into a ditch I was so caught up by the beat.
Later, aboard an aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean, I was stopped dead in my tracks when I heard Three Dog Night doing "Old Fashioned Love Song." Don't ask me why. I just liked it.
And, of course, I was swept away the first time I stepped onto a dance floor to the strains of "Love Theme" or "The Theme from Shaft."
Okay, so I got no taste. But I know what gets my mojo moving. And, being a child of the 70's, I moved a lot of mojo in my day. I was once complimented on my dance floor moves by a black gentleman in a dive drag bar in the sleaziest part of Marcus Hook, Pennsylvania. Believe me, I was flattered!
But the 80's turned into the lost years for me. I spent the decade hermetically sealed in a meaningless life of empty success with no clue as to what was really going on in the world around me. That decade is fodder for many a future blog. I'm still recovering from it.
But, back to last night. For the first time in a LOOOOONNNGGGG time, I felt my mojo coming back to life. This ditzy, glitzy, glammy group was belting out a tune that just reached down my throat and tickled my toes from the inside.
I'm going out to buy their CD at lunch today.
The name of the group? Scissor Sisters.
The name of the song? Ironically enough, it's called "I don't feeling like dancing."
You can listen to it here: http://music.aol.com/artist/scissor-sisters/603027/main
But be forewarned. It is infectious. Trust me, if you're looking for something to light a fire in your mojo oven, this song is just what you're looking for. (and no, I'm not being paid to say any of this.)
No lesson. Just a blatant product endorsement for some dee-licious ear candy!