Vox Hunt: Slow Dance Soundtrack

Audio: What was the first song you ever slow-danced to with a girl or boy?
Submitted by Rev Stan.

You know, I don't think I've ever slow danced, in the way that I think this question is meaning it.  We just didn't really do that where I come from. 

See, I come from rural America--the country, hillbilly heaven, whatever you want to call it.  We danced a lot, almost exclusively to country-western music.  We two-stepped.  We waltzed.  We polka--dude, what the hell is the past tense of polka?  Polkaed?  Polkad?--anyway, we did that, too.  We even did a little cotton-eyed joe and schottische.  Occasionally, at our dances, someone would put on some Skynyrd, and we would all look around uncomfortably while trying to figure out what we were meant to do with our bodies to this crazy rock-and-roll, and then the girls would dance, and the guys would look sheepish and dorky and head to the sidelines.  I do remember, back in the halcyon days of Hammer Time, that we were taught to do an exotic dance known as "The Running Man" by some visiting fellow from Tucson (seriously--I am completely not making that up), and after that someone would inevitably play "Can't Touch This" obliging us all to make total asses of ourselves.

There were slow waltzes, sure, and even slow two-steps sometimes--lots of them, of course, from King George (that would be George Strait, for those of you who are unintiated in the ways of countryfolk).  And I was trying to think of what song I probably first danced to that was slow, and then it occurred to me that the writer of the question probably meant that weird, cuddly, wobbling-back-and-forth thing that I've seen city people do at the prom.

We just didn't do that. 

During a slow love song, you might get a little cuddly with your boyfriend or the boy you wanted to be your boyfriend, but it was still a waltz--some form was maintained, some distance was kept (lest the knees bump too much, which isn't fun--that damn Michael, man, for some reason he and I were always getting our knees all tangled up--I could dance with Brandon or Blaine or even Richard and not have a problem, but not Mike). 

Our prom theme song my junior year (I didn't go to prom my senior year) was "The Dance" by Garth Brooks, which is a slow, sad song.  I don't suppose anyone cried over it at the prom, but it brought back sad memories, and I think if ever we were inclined to do that wobbly, cuddly slow-dancing it would have been during that song at that prom.

[There are a lot of reasons why we chose it as our theme song, but the sad memories had to do with the deaths of several friends during our high school years.  Our high school was very small--my class had 12 or 14 kids in it--so the deaths affected everyone deeply.]

So, here is a song I possibly did a slow-dance to (although...I don't know, but it seems likely):

That song always makes me sad. 

Here's a fun bit of trivia about my junior prom:  All of the boys wore jeans instead of tuxedo pants (they wore tux shirts and ties and jackets, with black jeans, a look I'm pretty sure would get fugged if they took it to LA, but in the country, we like it that way) and most of them also wore black cowboy hats.  The girls wore normal formal dresses.  My mom made mine, and it was awesome.  Damn...I should scan in my old prom picture!  Ha!

Now, we need to two-step.  How about this one?

In case you were curious, that's the song I hear in my dreams.  Steve Earle, wherever you are, I think you are the awesomest person ever.

Or this one--this was huge in my high school.  HUGE.

Onward, to Dumas Walker's we go:

Ah, yes, fun times.  Wish I could find a video for "Guitars, Cadillacs."  Yes, I still listen to and love all this music.  Country and bluegrass (along with jazz, Motown, and the Delta Blues) are among America's finest achievements, and no matter how much I love XTC and Morphine and Coltrane and all of that, there is nothing else for me like country music.  In my heart, in my dreams, in my very deepest recesses, there is mainly country music and deserts.  I will never feel at home anywhere that gets a lot of rain, and I will never feel at home without Johnny Cash and Steve Earle on the jukebox. 

Oh, and what the hell, since I'm enjoying this, and since I mentioned him:  King George.  Be still my beating heart.  Note:  This song is not from my high school years; it's quite recent.  But, Jesus, look at his starched-and-creased Wranglers--my kind of man.  Yum.

Damn, I used to spend hours every week ironing my jeans into those same starched crease lines.  Sigh--the folly of youth.  My jeans weren't Wranglers, of course--they were Rockies, and they made my ass look perfect, which is nigh miraculous.

OK, enough.  I guess.  If you hate country music, I don't really want to hear about it, OK?  This is a topic to which we shall return, someday.  And as Hank, Jr., would say, if you ain't into that, I don't give a damn.