One Fan's homegrown 'Dance Moves' for Van Halen's DREAMS as witnessed by your's truly at their July 22nd performance at the Xcel Energy Center

Tis true; I attended (and very much enjoyed) Van Halen's concert here in Saint Paul last Thursday. For their particular style of music (cock rock?) they proved once and for all that even in their advancing respective ages (ranging from 49 to 56) they can still put on an energetic show; replete with all the self-indulgence we, their fans, have come to expect: from individual solos (do we really need a Bass solo from Michael Anthony? Or are we still pleased to see this box-ish gentleman pound down the Jack Daniels...if that was ACTUALLY the fluid dispensed from that bottle he gripped) to the fans and their ever-ready-to-be-lit lighters.

One particular thing I witnessed, however, deserves special note; and it wasn't from the stage...but from a fellow 50 or so feet away from where I sat. This guy proved to be one (of the many) great moments from the show that I will always remember...and it was all due to his impromptu dance moves to Van Halen's song, DREAMS.

What follows are the lyrics to the tune and the moves he busted during each (and I can assure you that after I first noticed this man I could not tear my eyes away from him; drawn, as I was, to his sheer unbridled joy...which, to me, was the pure and simple embodiment of hilarity). The moves are in parentheses:


World turns black and white
Pictures in an empty room
Your love starts fallin' down
(totters a bit from side to side...or it was the booze coursing through his system)
Better change your tune
(pretends to drop an unseen guitar)
Yeah, you reach for the golden ring
(reaches off to the side for an imagined golden ring)
Reach for the sky
(you guessed it...he stretched both extremities skyward whilst wiggling his fingers)
Baby, just spread your wings
(both arms then drop from their upward position to a semblence of a bird flapping its wings)

We'll get higher and higher
(both arms back up and are far-more earnestly scrabbling for the atmosphere)
Straight up we'll climb
(one finger now pointing directly above...p'raps to the good lord or a lighting rig)
We'll get higher and higher
(same as the first chorus above)
Leave it all behind
(looks backwards while doing a brushing off gesture with one hand...seemingly brushing cookie dust off a tabletop or dandruff from a pal's shoulder)

Run, run, run away
(now jogging in place...with the added visual delight of his roomy form jiggling to the beat)
Like a train runnin' off the track
(makes like Casey Jones and mimes tooting a train whistle)
Got the truth bein' left behind
(looks backwards again...and maybe notices the horrified looks of nearby fellow patrons at his truly non-Solid-Gold-worthy 'moves')
Falls between the cracks
(engages in a knickknack-paddywhack circular motion with his arms symbolizing something tumbling down; a la the meatball from atop of Old Smokey?)
Standin' on broken dreams
(looks down while lifting one foot and then the other as if marching across a bed of shattered glass...or a scattered swath of ill-placed finger and toe nails...crunch crunch)
Never losin' sight, ah
(one hand up to his brow...like a new recruit's first salute...and swivelling his head to and fro as if searching for something in the packed arena; quite possibly his dignity)
Well just spread your wings
(avian impersonation begins anew)

We'll get higher and higher
Straight up we'll climb
We'll get higher and higher
Leave it all behind
(as like the first chorus...but with a LOT more gusto...so much so that a witness, like myself, momentarily considered it a strong possibility that he might attain flight...or a very short period of hovering)

So baby dry your eyes
(imagined hankerchief/oil rag to the eyes with a vigorous rubbing motion...capped off with a quick wipe across the nose)
Save all the tears you've cried
(wringing motion of the imagined rag over a likewise imagined container)
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
(points to himself, implying that he is Morpheus, Lord of Dreams)
'Cause we belong in a world that must be strong
(flexes both arms like the great bodybuilder he most certainly was not)
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
(pointing once again at his own form and his status of the Ruler of Nod)

Yeah, we'll get higher and higher
Straight up we'll climb
Higher and higher
Leave it all behind
Oh, we'll get higher and higher
Who knows what we'll find?

So baby dry your eyes
Save all the tears you've cried
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
Oh baby, we belong in a world that must be strong
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
(for the above two bits, see the moves of before)

And in the end on dreams we will depend
(wraps arms about his own torso/thorax...a self-inflicted bear hug that would surely squeeze the life out of just about anything smaller than a weasel)
'Cause that's what love is made of
(inexplicably points two fingers to his groin with all the implications you can imagine about LOVE being constructed of the fleshy nuggets lingering in his drawers)

With the song coming to a close and his obvious fixation on his nether regions, this Van Halen fan then did the unthinkable (and, in hindsight, a maneuver plainly exhibiting/exposing his need to share his LOVE with all within sight of him); he dropped his pants to his ankles (thankfully keeping his underpants about their proper sections) and exuberently spun about as Edward's guitar chime slowly faded under the roar of the crowd.

Nice, eh?

At a show such as this one, I expect to see the rare female flash her breasts stageward...not some rotound fellow in his late 30s/early 40s drop trou and pirouette in an orgiastic display of unbridled excitement.

Must be a sign of the times and/or a change in currently exceptable concert behavior.


T