The Greatest Dancer

On the 7th of March, Filthy Underneath, the fourth album by Nadine Shah from South Tyneside reached number 25 in charts. The third single off the album, The Greatest Dancer was released in January 2024. I heard her interviewed on the radio a few weeks ago and she talked about the inspiration for this particular whimsical, yet anthemic indie hit.

Like many artists over the last few years the pandemic and the ensuing lockdown had a dramatic effect on their careers, moods, and approaches to their chosen art form. It was a time for reflection, introspection and looking at life through a different lens. With outdoor activities limited the television became a source of desperation, salvation, and inspiration.

The Greatest Dancer was inspired by the long running Winter warmer ‘Strictly come Dancing’ which has been on our screens for an incredible twenty years with 366 episodes to date and the appetite for the charm, glamour, and glitz, that this infectious programme provides does not show any sign of diminishing.

Nadine Shah

For such an acclaimed and relevant singer such as Nadine Shah to imply the show features in her work is a glowing testament to its wide appeal. The programme has had to say goodbye to a number of family favourites, none less than Bruce Forsyth and Len Goodman. To add to the poignancy of this song it is also a tribute to the memory of the singer’s mother, whom she had watched the show with over many years, but sadly passed away in August 2020.

Nadine herself went into a spiral of depression during lockdown suffering from PTSD and addiction, eventually she tried to commit suicide in Easter 2022. Recovering for two months in rehab she is once again sharing her life through her music. Living naked through her music.

I hadn’t realised when I started writing this, about a very specific song and singer that so many directions of travel would open up. There is a whole history of lyrics penned by artists after personal tragedy, music about dancing and words exploring the trauma of living through a pandemic.

In the end I decide to stay true to the title, who is the greatest dancer? Now, I’m not going to tell you, each reader will have a different view on this, I am however gong to tease you with a few variations in the extreme. Perhaps you are a purist, ballet, the true and beautiful form of art, the world of Rudolf Nureyev and Anna Pavlova. Or the golden age of cinema starlit by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

If disco fever is more your thang, then the garish delights of Saturdays nights blazing the trails for wannabees John Travolta’s disgracing dancefloors everywhere. The outrageous Madonna pushing the boundaries of decency, unforgettable. The green shades of Irish dreams led us through the river with Michael Flatley, nothing lost in translation.

Or the slick moonwalking excess of Michael Jackson, spawning look-a-likes the world over. Iconic movies Footloose, Fame but most of all Johnny Castle (below) and ‘nobody puts baby in the corner’ copied from then until eternity.

Dirty Dancing

Whichever floats you boat or makes you cringe they all bring memories flooding back. I don’t really know what Nadine Shah was imagining when she wrote this song, but perhaps the looseness and ethereal nature of the music and lines allows anyone of us to interpret it the way we choose, as any good piece of art should, and remember what was special for us about our greatest dancer.

To hold you in my arms is to hide the world away.
All my dreams and desires combined in one special place.
Through starlight and magic realms, we sway effortlessly,
A spectacle to which even the planets take a bow,
Gliding and swooning, hypnotic rhythms beat,
Entwined as one for the briefest moment until,
I too step back in awe, of ‘The Greatest Dancer.’

Thanks for reading, Ian. 

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The Greatest Dancer - It Isn't Me!

Sunday afternoons in the winter, watching the ‘Hollywood Musical’ at the home of my school-friend, Lorna, were very happy times. It was cosy, relaxing in front of the coal fire, drinking tea or sometimes hot chocolate while Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire had us mesmerised. It didn’t matter which musical was on, there was dancing and Lorna, her mum and I wished we could do it. Sometimes we would try to spin each other round or make a few steps up – not much space in the living room – we would lose balance and end up in a heap of laughter. It was simple pleasures for two fourteen year olds sharing an interest. Not surprisingly, neither of us became dancers, apart from a few twirls round our handbags when we were older. Great memories. R.I.P., Lorna.

As for the greatest dancer, I think I’ve established that it is certainly not me, but not for the lack of trying. From a young age I pestered to go to dancing class, when I decided that I wanted to be a ballerina, quite a common aspiration for little girls in the 1950s. I remember the disappointment of not being given a frilly tutu but I soon accepted being in the tap class and loved my noisy tap shoes. Apart from loving the sound, I couldn’t get the hang of it. I couldn’t follow instructions, even literally one step at a time. I just wanted to tap my feet but not in any particular order. I was probably too young or awkward, but the teachers didn’t give up on me straight away. They were planning a little concert and chose me to be the Pink Toothbrush and someone else to be the Blue Toothbrush as we did a simple tap dance to Max Bygraves recording of ‘I’m a Pink Toothbrush’. I don’t remember how far we got into it, but it didn’t happen. One of the teachers gave my mum what would be my costume. It was pieces of something pink, later I knew it was seersucker. It had been cut out from a pattern and just needed sewing together, apparently. My mother did many things but sewing dancing costumes was not amongst her skills. Popping a button back on or repairing a hem was about her limit, so she would task the costume to my dressmaking grandmother. Before that happened, dancing class and I parted company as it was decided to be not my forte. Many years later, I was helping my grandmother to sort out my late mother’s things and there, in its paper bag, was the fabric for my dancing costume.

In my teens and still at school, I escaped to London as much as I was allowed during the holidays. An aunt, uncle and cousins lived in Roehampton and were always happy to have me to stay. I usually travelled on my own by train and my aunt would meet me at Euston station. One such visit, I met Kathy, who was the family’s au pair, close in age to me. She was, well, still is, lovely. We are still in touch. Kathy didn’t speak much English then and I didn’t speak German – she’s Swiss-German, but we became friends and managed to communicate well enough. We went to the cinema one evening to see ‘The Boyfriend’. I really liked Twiggy and enjoyed the musical, but it was Christopher Gable who stole the show for me and I couldn’t take my eyes off his dancing. He made it look to easy, like Fred and Ginger did. That was my introduction to the ballet dancer Christopher Gable. He became a director of the Northern Ballet and was involved in ‘A Simple Man’, the ballet about L.S.Lowry. The combination of the greatest dancer and my favourite artist.

My poem,

When I was a child, I longed to dance
And I was given chance after chance
By a kind lady at dancing class,
Who thought I was a sweet little lass.

I was picked to be the ‘Pink Toothbrush’
My mum could make my costume, no rush.
It was all cut out, ready to sew,
Pink seersucker with satin bow.

The teachers had to admit defeat,
I was cute enough, but two left feet.
I tried my best, all the ‘heel and toe’
Tap, tap, tapping, but I had to go.

PMW 2024

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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