Perfect Things: Deee-Lite's "Groove Is In The Heart"
Note: Perfect Things is going to be an irregular set of pieces about the love of great artistry and beautiful creations. It'll cover movies, songs (as the title suggests), books and possibly some television too. It's going to be about celebrating great creative work, and why they're great. "Celebrating" is the key word here. I've been considering this for a while, and someone bringing up "Groove Is In The Heart", causing me to smile just in thinking about the song, was what tipped me over from considering to doing.
We all know nothing is perfect. The concept is often destructive and harmful. There are many cliché phrases to this effect. It's a concept with no real grounds in existence. It's an illusion, a myth. At the same time, some things are perfect at what they're trying to be, and what they're trying to be is inherently beautiful in a way which isn't immediately obvious.
Joy is beautiful. People enjoying themselves and each other can be heartbreakingly beautiful. It's liberation. It's shared experience, a kind of intimacy. The desire to inspire joy is beautiful. It's beautiful when people try to create something, and all of the efforts and craft they put into succeeds and that creation it works. There's joy in it even when the creation itself is something darker, touching things which are uncomfortable, hard or discomfiting. When they're done well, when they can move us in that way great art can, they're still beautiful, and no matter how dark or disturbing the subject matter, the beauty in that act of creation, the skill it's imbued with and the desire which drives it is a joyful thing.
As the arts go, it there's some predisposition in certain circles to refer to those things which in some way explore these darker subjects as "works of art." There's something of a stigma against using this description for those things which are created with little intention outside creating joy. It's understandable. We have no shortage of things which have some veneer of being created in the attempt to inspire joy, but with even just a little bit of interrogation, really aren't much more than commercial product. Especially in the arts most likely to attract a mass audience, the commercial and the artistic are so deeply intertwined, it becomes whirlpool of confusion to attempt to discern the lines. There's a kind of misinterpretation here though too. When it comes to the narrative arts, most especially, we talk about "empty escapism." Lately, due to the dominance of super hero films in the movie industry, it's a regular conversation. Escapism has its place. It's a thing storytelling has done, to one degree or another, for a very long time. It's lasted long enough to be something we obviously need from the arts. When there's too much escapism, without any desire to do much else, it's not a good thing. It's good for people who engage with art to flex all of the muscles the arts can require, and it's good for people who create to flex all the muscles it can require as well.
There does seem to have been some confusion here though too. There's a difference between something being "empty escapism" and something meant to inspire joy. Inspiring joy can come in a thousand forms. It can come with some desire to also inspire thoughtfulness about an idea or a topic. It can also just be about the experience of joy itself. This isn't empty. It may be escapism, to some degree, but it's not empty. Often though, especially where music is concerned, it's the exact opposite of escapism. It's about presence and the present moment. There's an unfortunate kind of belief to the effect creative works meant to inspire joy are about the attempt to escape the harder, darker aspects of life or those creative works which explore the darker aspects of life.
Inspiring joy isn't necessarily about hiding from the darker, harder things in life or art. It can be about accepting their existence, and that in the face of their existence, we need joy even more.
When life is good, I don't need joy as much, and I don't need the art meant to inspire it or demonstrate it as much. In plain fact, it's easier to get there when things are pretty good. It makes joy an arms length away, instead of being at the other side of a chasm. Sometimes, it is at the other side of a chasm. I can't reach it. I can't feel it. I'm just not always capable of it. At those times, its existence and the reminders of its existence are that much more important.
On top of being perfectly produced and performed for what it is trying to be, this is what makes Deee-Lite's "Groove Is In The Heart" a perfect thing.
It exists for no reason other than to inspire the listener to smile and shake their ass, preferably amidst friendly company. It communicates this with perfection, without self consciousness, with exactly the right amount of absurdity ("My supper dish, my succotash wish," and "Horton hears a who" in the lyrics, on top of the liberal use of slide whistle) to fly in the face of what serious art is supposed to be, and not be making a statement of doing so. The statement is its existence and the craft with which it was created.
A combination of samples that sounds straight out of the early sixties announces, "We're going to dance and have some fun," and then that bass line drops and the drums come in. Lady Miss Keir's vocals come rolling out, smooth as satin sheets, careening from the sound of a wide welcoming smile to a playful growl, before soaring into the chorus, with Bootsy Collins lending his indelible declarations. When she sings that she couldn't ask for another, who among us doesn't want to be the subject of this statement? Then a fucking slide whistle shows up, just in case you didn't know that this is nothing to take seriously. Yes, that is a slide whistle. Yes, slide whistles are inherently ridiculous. Shut up, it's inspired absurdity. Shaking your ass is the only thing to be taken seriously here. Q-Tip comes in for one of his quick, rhythm driven verses, and we're back to the groove Lady Miss Keir croons about in the chorus. The breakdown shows up, and it's all about the drums, horns and some more of Bootsy explaining as only he could, "Groove is in the heart." Back through the chorus a few more times before it comes to a close with Bootsy laughing, and what sounds like an outtake as he chuckles, "C'mon, y'all are crazy."
And then it's all done.
It's better than cocaine, and lasts a slightly shorter amount of time.
It's a reminder, an encapsulation, a call to inspire one of the moments in life worth living for, without ever calling to attention to it being exactly that. It's about enjoying this few minutes, alone with the groove of it or sharing with friends and indeed, shaking your ass, without self consciousness or consideration for anything other than the joy of being there, doing it.
It's a beautiful thing to create for, to inspire joy, to create the space in time dedicated just to this, and as creative works which successfully meet the goals they've set for themselves go, this one is perfect.
The thing is, I can't always feel the joy. There have been times when there was no "lifting my mood" with something like the right song, movie, story, food, anything really. It doesn't always work that way. There have been periods in life where I'm just not capable of summoning it. It doesn't matter whether I can feel it when the song comes on though. I can still marvel at how perfect is managed to be what it's trying to be. I can remember shaking my ass with that song blasting through some house party or some tiny nightclub. I can remember being at that wedding or some other similar ritual function and being so fucking relieved they finally played this song, after being tortured with the rest of the shit that is always the standard playlist for functions, because it's a great fucking song no matter what else has been playing for the last half hour or three hours. I know how beautiful it is the song just exists, and that it is beautiful that it exists for no reason other than giving people the space and a few short minutes to get lost in that joy, no matter what is happening outside of those few minutes. In those times when I can't feel the joy of it, this is still something wonderful. It's a sign in the distance. I might not be there, at that moment, but I have been. I can be again. I will be again, if I just keep going.
"Groove Is In The Heart" is a perfect thing, in large part because it has no interest in being anything but the perfect thing it is.