Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.10.2014, Blaðsíða 22

ART 22 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 16 — 2014DANCE
“Hi!” a Scottish voice says as I feel a hand
on my shoulder. It guides me to the dark
blob of a coat-rack. “You can put your coat
here.”
This is how a No Lights No Lycra event
starts. The host has literally disappeared
and I step-touch my way into the crowd. As
my pupils dilate, I see the faintest greenish
light shining from some electronic equip-
ment. It is exactly enough light to see mov-
ing shapes and avoid bumping into them.
I have no idea how many people are here,
but I can feel that they are dancing. No one
talks and we are alone together.
A long way from Australia
The concept began in Melbourne, Aus-
tralia in 2009. Two dance students, Alice
Glenn and Heidi Barrett, started with just
themselves in their living room. It quickly
grew to include their friends and a com-
munity was created. It spread to other
cities in Australia and quickly around the
world.
“At the heart of No Lights No Lycra
(NLNL) is the belief that everyone can
dance,” their story begins on the orga-
nization’s official website, “providing an
inclusive and non-judgmental place for
people to explore this notion.” It is further
described as a “daggy, non-pretentious
place to completely be yourself.”
Reykjavík is the first Nordic capital to
join the NLNL community and only the
second Nordic city after Aarhus, Denmark.
Rik McNair, host of the local version of the
event, booked the space and put together
a playlist with the help of a few friends. “It
isn’t supposed to be like a party,” he ex-
plained to me over a beer afterwards. “It’s
not really about dancing with your mates;
it’s just about you and the music.”
Feel the heat
After a few songs, a dreamy electro-pop
mash-up of Kraftwerk and Whitney Hous-
ton comes on. By the time she sings, “I
wanna feel the heat with somebody,”
I am already feeling it. I want to take my
boots off, but worry that that would be
weird. It dawns on me that no one would
even know, so I sidle to the wall and do
The Running Man right out of them with
sweaty glee.
The variety of both music and dance
moves is impressive. There is R&B, clas-
sic rock, '90s hip hop, ska, Latin pop, and
everything in between, for about five de-
cades' worth of tunes. We instinctively
snap along to doo-wop and stomp rhyth-
mically in unison to some slower, pulse-y
electronic beats. There is the occasional
whoop or clap at the end of a song.
Clothes come off in the heat. I break
out all kinds of otherwise embarrassing
moves untouched since my high school
musical days: The Egg-Beater, some tap
dance, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” and
The Mashed Potato, which I never really
figured out. What most everyone else is
doing is still a mystery to me. Occasion-
ally, there is a glimpse of a random limb.
There is the shadow of at least one person
splayed out and rolling slowly along the
floor. I mentally dub it “The Starfish,” and
vow to try it next week.
Lights on
“Thanks for coming,” Rik says through the
dark when the last song ends. There is
cheering, clapping, and a lot of contented
sighing. The lights come up slowly. People
migrate toward the door and hover near
the tables where pitchers of chilled water
sit. People wipe the sweat from their faces
and introduce themselves.
“I was going to go for a run tonight,” I
overhear one woman saying. “But, whew, I
don’t think I need to now! That was a work-
out!”
I ask how people were feeling. “Well, it
has been a heavy few days—with work and
everything,” says an attendee, “but after
coming here, I feel,” he pauses for the right
word, “liberated.”
No Lights No Lycra will be held every
Monday at 20:00 in KEX’s Gym & Tonic
room. There is talk of monthly theme
nights for upcoming NLNL events, in ad-
dition to its usual variety of music genres.
The group encourages attendees to re-
quest songs for the upcoming week via
their Facebook page. I need to stipulate
that the title is a slight misnomer, however.
They have made it quite clear that you can
actually wear as much or little lycra as
you’d like.
A funky bassline is bumping out of KEX Hostel as I walk up to its patio. As I pass the
window, I hear the horns and lyrics of Janelle Monáe’s “Tightrope.” I picture her smooth
moves in the song’s music video and I already feel like dancing. Once inside, I duck
quickly through the door into Gym & Tonic, trying to let in as little light as possible in the
process. No lights, no lycra, no lies: it is pitch black when the door closes. (I can’t actu-
ally confirm that there is no spandex, but I certainly can’t see any.) I take off my coat as
I wait for my eyes to adjust.
Photos
Anna Domnick
Words
Grayson Del Faro
nolightsnolycra.comMondays, 20:00 Kex Hostel's Gym and TonicNo Lights No Lycra
Dancers In
The Dark
No Lights No Lycra
starts up at KEX