The Rise and Fall Of The Man In Black

A few months ago I attended an all nighter in Nottingham.  It was on a bank holiday and a quite large crowd had turned up with some seeming to have travelled from outside the local area.  The DJ line was impressive and had managed to attract a couple of guys across from Ireland as well.

The night had started well when we arrived, a crowd of cowboys, namely line dancers were still going through their motions and we all enjoyed ourselves, kit bags in hand watching these people dolled up in spurs, Stetsons and lace ties do their simple steps to some terrible pop-country.  Soon they were out of the way and the nighter began.

Before I knew it, it was one o clock and up gets a really serious dancer. We all knew he was a "serious" dancer as he had made a show of limbering up at the side of the dance floor, stretching and loosening off his limbs.  As if that wasn't enough to irritate me, he was dressed head to toe in slick black.  He looked the part and I'm sure we all know people like this.  Very tall, about six foot three, black creased tight trousers, body hugging top and the special, slicked back black hair.  He carried a small towel through his belt and posed by the dancefloor edge even though people wanted to dance there.  This guy meant business.  He stood for a while watching from the side of the floor and then when Seven Souls "I Still Love You" came on and did a polished turn to a lovely song.  However, soon came Sandi Shelton's heart bursting "Gonna Make Me Love You", well the floor cleared.  Only the most serious were left, a local guy of immense dance moves moved in.  I stood my ground at the front of the dance floor, between the speakers, no one was shifting me.  The intro started and heart pounding we were off.

Well, this guys very good, his feet are moving but he's giving it some over the time dramatic gestures with his arms, up in the air, twirling them you know it.   To be frank, while brilliantly done it was too effusive for me. He's acting out the music I thought to myself.  Well after the first chorus he drops down and it's leg spinning, on the shoulders, back drops frenzy. He's doing the full works.  This goes on and he brings himself back up.  Now this guy hasn't spoken to a soul except a beer drinking pal who seems to be mocking everyone.  Well this guys comes up in a very fast spin and smiles indulgently to himself.  He's really loving it and almost excepts applause. It was great but we Midlands folk take some impressing.

There was one special move that he loved doing, dropping down into the splits from a dancing position, holding it for a second so everyone can go "oooh that must be painful" and then spinning his legs and ultimately back up dancing in a fast triple spin.  It's good the first time you see it but soon you're thinking "oh for gawd's sake man, just dance".  But he's a showoff so every time he dances he has to go through his well rehearsed routine.

So when he doesn't get the reaction he wants he starts giving everyone those "fuck off" stares like we are all morons for not appreciating his oh so excellent dancing.   He gets ever more energetic with each drop and eventually everyone gets bored as they do with this kind of dancing and carry on.  Now he's well annoyed by this and soon gets back off the floor to mock the dancers with his beer drinking mate who never dances.  People in Nottingham are a friendly bunch (some girl asked me to waltz with her that night to The Drifter, work that out).  This guy's mocking is not going down well and the mood turns slightly sour when a big name DJ covers for someone who didn't turn up by playing a second set of the same records in the same order (just how many times can you bear Marie Knight in one evening).  The DJs didn't co-ordinate their selections at all and duplicated loads of tracks which got some annoyed.  So people were ready for something special.

About two in the morning and the selections are fast and furious, the bar is closing and some will drift off home soon so the DJs are working hard.  On comes Jimmy Fraser "Of Hopes Of Dreams Of Tombstones", a bloody brilliant stormer of a track as many will know.  It pounds away and the place is wild. The man in black limbers up, he's now ready to jump in when the time is right.  Then it happens, the DJ plays "Love's The Only Answer" by Kelly Garrett.  When the floor is decimated as people drop like flies but up rush the adrenaline dancers, I'm already there and then, yes, here comes the man in black.

He's going mad to it,. going through his full routine.  The track is one of those astounding fast tracks that I'm always surprised doesn't finish off some of the dancers.   I was enjoying myself, nice intricate footwork but this guy is looking down on everyone (literally and figuratively), he's lording it up.  The instrumental break comes on and I look across, of course he's going to do his moves, yet again.

He drops down, the beat pounds, he holds it for a second, the music races and then he bloody well stayed there.  His muscles had frozen and he was stuck.  Oh what a result.  Anyway, his face is full of pain and anguish and he wriggles trying to unlock those oh so frozen muscles.  Well of course, people start to notice this bloke sat one leg forward, the other back, groaning.  His mate looks mortified as well he might.  Everyone kind of stops but the music races on.  He sits there for a few seconds looking if I may say so like a complete arse.  Anyway, there's no moving him so two big guys, the stewards come and pick him up.  However, his legs are completely locked, so totally mortified with embarrassment they have to carry the legendary Man In Black off the dance floor to jeers with one leg forward and the other back.  One steward carrying each leg trying to stifle their own giggles.

Like the hardy folk we are, the music carried into the next track, some big stomper that got everyone up and this poor, sad figure was forgotten.  Later he tried coming back to do a few simple steps but "collapsed" and left the floor quicker than an oldies fan at a Modern Soul night.  He packed up his bag and left with his dejected mate in tow.

Me, well it made my night.  Marvellous it was walking out at half six the next morning across Nottingham's Trent Bridge with a the early morning sun warming me up, off to catch a taxi.  I've never forgotten that moment which seemed to burst the bubble of all the flash gits on the scene.  If ever you feel inadequate when some similar person gets up, always try to picture that scene.  Who knows, it could be you...who sees this bloke make a arse of himself.

If you see "The Man In Black", say hello, just don't mention the night he went down........and stayed down.

Mark Coyle