You’re not dancing properly if you don’t catch glimpses of your shadow on the dance floor and temporarily wonder who is moving like that before you realise it’s the dark side of your reflection. The dirty garage guitar introduction of You’re Gonna Miss Me magnetises me to the dance floor where I manage to pull my friends along with me; the rhythm of my feet on the floor would have a deaf man covering his ears. When the atmosphere is right, with a dance floor I can barely see and a set of people who would prefer to dance than drink, I request this song. There is no work needed. I clutch the arms of a friend where we spin each other into a frenzy and holler the sounds of these 60s teens. There is barely time to take a breath because it’s more important to keep up with the tempo. Standing still to garage songs, especially when the DJ has taken the time to dig for the record is offensive. The quicker you move the sooner you will groove.
After been spun for the hundredth time, the song peaks and you have to crane your neck to the sky whilst in hand your invisible harmonica is set loose from it’s case, safe from the last time you used it to the same song. This solo doesn’t stop your feet moving, it’s just you have to multitask now. Your shadow is still with you and so are your friends, who share the understanding it’s not until the next song slowly fades in that you are allowed to regain control of your feet. Slowly, your lungs begin to inhale and you feel safe in the knowledge that you have done an old record proud.