Exhibit A:
Don Henley’s 1984 hit “All She Wants to Do Is Dance”

Alternate-Universe Song Titles:
“The Way,” “She’s Oblivious to Her Surroundings,” or “Bitch Snorted All My Traveler’s Cheques Up Her Nose”

Separated at Birth:
Gary US Bonds, “She Just Wants to Dance”

Verdict:
All Don Henley wants to do is teach.

Lyric Sample:
And all she wants to do is dance
and make romance
She can’t feel the heat comin’ off the street
She wants to party (oooo)
She wants to get down (oooo)
And all she wants to do is-
And all she wants to do is dance

Analysis:
To the listener of average intelligence, and by average I mean low, and by low I mean lower than a hummingbird zipping under a snake’s anus, this song’s lyrics make not one iota of rational sense. Where does this narrator go for a vacation, Beirut? And who’d he bring with him, Jennifer Beals? Though the close proximity of this album’s debut and the release of the Beals epic Flashdance makes this one of a handful of intriguing possibilities, one oughtn’t mistake serendipity for kismet in this instance. So then, what? Is dancing just a metaphor for something else in this song’s supposititious world? Sex? Drugs? Who is this woman, a hooker? A dope addict? A hooking dope addict? A doping hook ad- you get my point. “Dance” could mean anything in this context, except of course for actual dancing. Because if that were case, then the song would just be stupid. Beefheaded. Duncical. And this is coming from the man who wrote “Take it Easy,” so I’m disinclined to take that exegetical leap of faith.

But then, the question lingers. Why the gun-running theme? Did Don Henley get a little too wrapped up in the fact that the only job available to former members of the Eagles in the 80’s was writing songs for Eddie Murphy movies? Sad this, if true.

Some believe the song to be written in protest of the U.S. government’s involvement with the Contras in Nicaragua, and the dolorous popular American apathy to the government’s actions and the plight of those wretched souls sucking up oxygen in the less-fortunate corners of our rondure. Could this hold the song’s true meaning? Sure, if you only want to listen to the song on its most obvious, cursory level. If that be your wont, I’m not one to stop you. Assuming I could. You go ahead and have fun with your bubble gum and NASCAR, little soul. For discerning listeners, however, the song has a deeper hidden message.

They’re pickin’ up the prisoners and puttin’ ‘em in the pen
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
Rebels been rebels since I don’t know when
And all she wants to do is dance

It has always seemed to me that this single verse of Henley’s effectively serves to sweep away much of the nonsense that passes for “Western Thought,” a thought that one is sometimes tempted to feel has always been in fundamental error about almost everything.

Molotov cocktail-the local drink
And all she wants to do is dance, dance, dance
They mix ‘em up right in the kitchen sink
And all she wants to do is dance

Leave it to Henley to show us the simple, unvarnished truth about modern life. There are two kinds of people: those able to face the truth and those who prefer comforting illusions. The second group, which is by far the largest, will surely not like this verse at all, for it brings the very unwelcome news that man is merely an accidental product of evolution and that the only thing special about him is an explosive tenor for violence, for he is the Molotov cocktail of the evolutionary broth, hardwired with a destructiveness which will soon lead to his extinction.

Crazy people walkin’ round with blood in their eyes
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
Wild-eyed pistol wavers who ain’t afraid to die
And all she wants to do is dance

More of the same from the West’s answer to Confusious and Mai Bop. Truly a verse to which to listen, ponder, rewind, and relisten. A suppressed masterpiece.

Well, the government bugged the men’s room
in the local disco lounge
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
To keep the boys from sellin’ all the weapons they could scrounge
And all she wants to do is dance

Readers should be aware that there have been several editions of this verse. In its original form, documented in several early bootleg recordings and Henley’s own personal notes, the word “selling” was spelled out in its entirety, with the subtle truncation that would follow in the studio version shifting the crux of this song on its very axis, presumably the result of Henley bowing to lamentable commercial pressures. I’ve always preferred the purity of the song’s original construction and meaning, as I’m sure have others.

But that don’t keep the boys from makin’ a buck or two
And all she wants to do is dance, dance
They still can sell the army all the drugs that they can do
And all she wants to do is dance

Here Henley pulls off the deft trick of turning around the looking glass, flipping the perspective and making the listener aware that they are, in fact, peering into the unfathomable depths of their own soul. After all, who has never compromised the very pillars of his humanity for a buck or two? We are, in other words, given not only text but context, that living context without some knowledge of which we will never be able to fully appreciate the brilliancies of these lyrics. One is left wondering just who is keeping this masterpiece off the airwaves. And why...?

Well, we barely made the airport for the last plane out
As we taxied down the runway I could hear the people shout
They said, “Don’t come back here Yankee!”
But if I ever do- I’ll bring more money
‘Cause all she wants to do is dance

So puffed up are we with arrogance, so obsessed with the illusion that we are at the tip of a mythical ‘evolutionary tree’, so proud of our technical achievements (airplanes) and contemptuous of life forms which seem to get along without the aid of technology (non-Americans), it has become almost impossible for the average person to accept the fact that foreigners, far from being wholly other than us, are our fellows. What is required, then, is not knowledge but something far more difficult for us moderns - what is required is a shift of attitude, and a great deal of patience.

Ah, and finally the chorus! That beautiful thing, I can hardly bring myself to discuss the chorus as I’ve only heard it all too recently and haven’t had time to recover my measured poise. Unfortunately I’ve also just been informed by the commune that I’ll be unable to make this column any longer, as it has reportedly clogged their servers and has already run at greater length than some entire previous issues. Ingrateful wombats.