Recent protests and upheaval in the Middle East, juxtaposed against our own military presence in the region, call to mind yet again the far-reaching geopolitical implications of these events. Specifically, will the seeming democratization of that part of the world foster greater understanding between and among peoples, leading to a reduced threat of terrorism? Or will the uprisings themselves merely allow radical movements to bubble to the surface and, in some cases, replace America-tolerant dictators with regimes more hostile to our interests and security? And, is the extension of the PATRIOT Act a victory for strident opponents of terrorism, or merely yet another blow to our waning civil liberties?
With these themes serving as an apropos backdrop, I can think of no better time to present a lyrical analysis of Cascada’s “Evacuate the Dancefloor.”
Please increase the volume of the song that’s playing, so that we can begin to dance with enhanced enjoyment. When I dance, I do so in a very provocative, physical style that attracts a lot of attention from slack-jawed onlookers. Despite the added scrutiny, my technique remains impeccable.
In addition to turning up the volume of the music, if we also lower the lights, the combined effect on our senses could be akin to ingesting a large quantity of intoxicating substances.
Listen to me, everyone! Make your way to the nearest exit immediately! This music has stricken me with symptoms similar to that of a biological or chemical weapon attack, and I think I’m dying. Seriously, everyone get out! Except for you, disc jockey. I need your help to bury this music deep below the earth’s surface in an effort to mitigate the environmental impact.
People! I’m serious. Get out of here! I could be contagious! I know that I asked for the music to be turned up a minute ago, but what I’m telling you now is that those same augmented beats are sending me to an early grave! And, hey, DJ, I’ve come up with an alternate plan. Going underground is impractical. Let’s just torch the club!
I’m starting to feel additional symptoms of this deadly agent, including body ache, severely high temperature, and a feeling of inebriation. Does sarin do any of that? It almost feels like a form of hypnosis. Terrible, terrible hypnosis. Gangway, everyone!
Seriously, can we kill those lights? I think I’m photosensitive now, too. Feels like something is crawling underneath my skin, which can’t be a good sign. This beat is insane, I can’t stop dancing. I feel like I just ingested a large quantity of drugs.
Run for your lives! I can’t impress this upon you strongly enough. This music is afflicting me with a troubling suite of symptoms. Hey, DJ, let’s go back to the burial idea.
Leave, people! We’re clearly under some kind of terrorist attack. I can’t take much more of this deadly music. Let’s just torch the place already!
The temperature in this club is reaching dangerous levels. Possibly because someone is taking your advice about burning it to the ground. Not sure. Come on, let’s get out of here. The club continues to get hotter. Hurry, there’s nothing to fear (of course there is).
Ok, ok. If I might interject for a moment in order to take credit for this act of terrorism. You see, dear listener, it is I who sent this club into a frenzy with my new, precisely-crafted song. I admit it. If I could have everyone please back up against the wall. Ok, great, thanks. Now shake your respective “things.” Wonderful. Lower, now. Lower. Splendid. Now, keep doing what you’re doing, but kindly return to the dancefloor.
No! Haven’t you been listening?!? Get as far away from the floor as you can! It’s already too late for me! I’m infected. But, I beg you, save yourselves! I’m dying at the hands of these impeccable grooves, but there’s no reason for you to do the same.
What are you people waiting on? Run away! Leave this place! I’m a “carrier” now! Everyone! Out! Each note of this amazing song inches me ever-closer to my final resting place. Let’s go underground before it’s too late!
This is your last warning. You must get out of here, or you’ll meet the same fate that has befallen me. I can’t state this any more plainly: This song is a sophisticated terrorist weapon that is going to lead to my and your demise, unless you leave at once. I deeply regret asking for this music to be turned up in the first place. That’s on me. For now, though, all you can do is evacuate while the DJ and I remain behind to commit a sacrificial act of merciful arson.
No question–something is gained in translation!
Dance as a disease… what an interesting perspective.