And then you head to the club.Īnd, while everyone else is having fun, everyone else is having the time of their lives, you’re devastated, as your love rejects you/doesn’t even notice you/are there with someone else, and not you.
And tonight you’re going to summon up the courage to ask them out/show them how far you’ve come, how you don’t need them any more.Įverything’s going well in the build up, your friends are on great form, everyone’s smiling, having fun. And that girl/guy you’ve been secretly in love with forever/split up with but still have feelings for is going to be there. The seconds tick by agonisingly slowly, but finally, eventually, it’s 5 o’clock. You’ve worked all week, you’re tired, but you’ve spent your time thinking of nothing else but the massive, amazing night you’re going to have on Friday. You cannot wait to experience it for yourself.Īnd then. When you’re a kid and you see your elder sibling putting on their best clothes, bubbling with excitement as they prepare to head off for the night with their friends, you start to picture this exotic, otherworldly place. The club: the promised land of your youth, the place where all of your dreams come true the place where you find happiness, elation, release, a higher plane. It is such an evocative phrase, because we’ve all been there. Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys once coined the phrase, in conversation with Peter Robinson of Popjustice, ‘tears in the toilets’, to describe a genre of sad-but-upbeat emotional electronic songs. The genius that is Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys The only other drums or percussion on the track are eight repeated, robotic, hihat quavers halfway through, those little clave tinkles in the verses and the odd crash cymbal.īut who cares about the drums, right? Why does this minimalism matter?īecause it is utterly crucial and symbiotic to the lyrical content of the song. It’s followed by the simple use of kick drum and snare - on the 1 and 3, and 2 and 4 beats respectively - which, relentlessly, never change throughout the course of the song. Because it is so brutal, so direct, so minimal. Why? Because the song must open with that jackhammer, relentless, electronic bass synth and nothing else. And I use the word recording deliberately, because this is a song which is impossible to divorce from its sound and its production (even the version of the track used on Robyn’s official video is inferior because, for some reason, someone decided to add an extra arpeggiated synth through the intro and the verse a thoroughly unnecessary addition). The only version of ‘Dancing on my Own’ is the original Robyn recording. To many, this is ‘the’ version of the song. Now, his version is inescapable on the radio, from Magic, to Heart, to Radio 1 and everything in between. He won his show, and subsequently finished sixth out of 12 performers he performed different songs for both the semi and the final.ĭespite his success on the show, and the endorsement of Cowell, Scott was not offered a deal by Syco.Ī year later, on 15 April 2016, he released his version of ‘Dancing on my Own’ independently and, after initially only having support from West Hull FM, it slowly became a huge sleeper hit, eventually reaching number 2 in the charts and earning him a deal with Capitol.
Then, having seen this performance, five years later, on 11 April 2015, Hull singer-songwriter Callum Scott performed an identical version on Britain’s Got Talent, earning a ‘golden buzzer’ from head judge Simon Cowell, putting him straight through to the semi-final of the competition. Take a listen now, and remind yourself of its brilliance.ġ5 days after its release, on 16 June 2010, Robyn was booked to appear on Radio 1’s Live Lounge, and as is the way with that franchise, decided to perform the track with just a simple piano backing.
With ‘Dancing on my Own’, she took that sonic template and distilled it, breaking the sonics down to their primary components, and dialling the sadness up to 10.
Robyn had tasted success three years before, with 2007’s collaboration with Kleerup, ‘With Every Heartbeat’ a huge number one hit. The perfect chart position for a perfect song. High enough to respect its absolutely undeniable quality, but not too high that it became too ubiquitous or overplayed. Written and produced by Swedish singer Robyn and Patrick Berger, it was the first single from her Body Talk Pt 1 album and, like so many classic tracks, it reached the noble position of number 8 in the charts. On 1 June 2010, Robyn released one of the greatest records ever made, in the form of ‘Dancing on my Own’.