Prince (1979)
There are lyrics on Sexy Dancer but they’re vestigial. The next thing to be dropped in evolution’s great rewrite, like the appendix or the nail of the little toe. No words are needed. This track bypasses the central nervous system and speaks straight to your gut, the part of your body which converses in fluent bass and contains nine tenths of the body’s serotonin. Those two biological facts must be linked. Happiness is a dope-ass bassline. Sexy Dancer isn’t a song you hear, it’s a song you feel and if this doesn’t apply to you, you must have over-ridden your body’s innate response mechanisms. If you were a newly-hatched turtle you’d sit and wait to be picked off by a seagull instead of instinctively dashing towards the roar of the protective sea. My advice would be to go Vipassanā on it. fire up the 12″ mix, ignore the lyrics and concentrate solely on the heavy breathing. Inhale when Prince inhales. Exhales when Prince exhales. Breathe Sexy Dancer. Feel Sexy Dancer. Become Sexy Dancer. Resetting faulty programming won’t necessarily save you from any airborne predators, but it will help your ear bone reconnect to your hip bone.
