respect the boom

today someone said this to me. respect the boom.

jay, what are you talking about?

if aliens looked down and saw us dancing, he says, they'd be mighty confused.
it's one thing you can't explain, music. it doesn't make one shred of sense, he says, the way we move, the way we feel the music.

he continues:

it's that we can't explain it that makes it so universal. boom is the reverberations. the wordless. it's bigger than clubs, or records, or concerts. it's caberet as much as it is the latin american that we spinned to, this afternoon, it's classical flute as much as it is cutting edge fucking techno.
boom is what makes you dance. when you hear it and it's YES, yes.

it's peter damned garrett. it's children tripping over their toes and deluded romantics of my ballroom class. it calls out to something in us. hips are sexy, no matter where you're from. a good tango argentino says lust, anger, passion. it doesn't matter what language you speak.

for jay:
a toast.
to boom. everywhere.