What is this talk about the spectator emancipating himself? Oh, I know it’s old school and so 2005, but I still hear it out there, e-man-ci-pa-tion – that’s a good word to use. Bah, most dance has no desire to emancipate anything at all and perhaps they’re better off with their curious yet surprised view on the world. No emancipation. No way, it’s just business as usual. You know that choreographers have no idea. No idea what they are working on nor why. It’s just some inner feeling that makes it happen, sort of mix between poetry, I want to be an artist and business-mindedness. The worst is interest. Bleuurgh! “-I’m interested in…” this is bad, very bad. What do you mean you are interested in…? I believe it means the cultivation of unconventional or even foreign capacities remaining within a given territory. It also means to postpone a possible statement and remain negotiable. People that are “interested in” won’t stand up for their shit, totally not ready for the emancipation and that’s where we misread Ranciere. Eat this, if our spectators emancipate themselves they won’t come back to the theatre.
Emancipation is for art what sex is for the discothèque.
I always thought that the main purpose for the disco was to have the guests rush home for a bang-fiesta. That the colored light and sweaty music was there to make you and me absolutely crazy – so it’s getting hot in here – we’d perform oral pleasure already in the taxi. How utterly disappointing to realize that discothèque isn’t on a mission for free sex. They don’t even want a bit of petting or a sensual moment without clothes. Furk, what happened to idealism?
In fact, it’s the other way around: disco is there to make us go home alone, to skulk back to base solo, wake up miserable or fiddle with ourselves until we doze off exhausted ridden by dreams where we have sex with an ex that left us for somebody younger. A Greek composer, or an eco friendly furniture designer. But, oups – back to the disco! Exactly that’s what the disco wants, it wants us to come back, again and again. They don’t make money on us practicing multiple orgasms or even trying out the strap on. The disco, my friend, The Disco is performing the promise of wow… fuck me, harder, that was sooo good. And it will do its very very best in letting you down night after night, night after night.
If The Swedish House Mafia is on a mission it’s not sex on the beach when the sun comes up, it’s about making Ibiza free from sexually transmitted inconveniences. If you are into sex, stop dancing. Of course we already knew that musicians all are sexually frustrated, but the DJ is an individual with a deep sexual trauma, something about guilt, coming too early, or size, and thus substituting the sexual act with beat mixing and a back-spin. – – I’m coming – – But the disco is, I must confess, slightly benevolent to one night stands. On the basis of repetition, let’s have another one tomorrow… – and fear, like the pest, that you and I start a relationship. The disco hates kids, it’s the evidence for failing to fool us in relation to that promise. The disco wants you to stay, it wants us to sweat and dance and drink as fuckin much as possible, every night, until six in the morning and let’s go on. That’s what the disco is, for making money and we don’t shop when we are doing it again on the hotel room floor.
Same with emancipation, dance and theatre don’t want it. Just the promise and it should fail time and again. I like it, when we go see those critical dance and theatre groups, they are so incredibly theatre – you know something is loose upstairs – the elevator is not going all the way to the top thing – that they don’t even know that they are performing the promise of an emancipation that they wish to fail. Emancipated spectators know that theatre is stupid, they don’t come back. So next time you are about to take off for a dance show, forget about it and have sex.
Myself? I’ll go see a show now. What could be better on a Sunday evening…