High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
“How d’you feel about that?”
“All right, yeah. I was beginning to wonder about our musical direction, anyway. I’d rather see people dancing to ‘Long Tall Sally’ than running for the exit with their hands over their ears.”
“You enjoying the club?”
“It’s OK. Bit, you know, populist for my taste,” he says. He’s not joking.
The rest of the evening is like the end of a film. The entire cast is dancing: Dick with Anna (he’s sort of standing still and shuffling, Anna is holding his hands and attempting to get him to let go a bit), Marie with T-Bone (Marie is drunk, T-Bone’s looking over her shoulder at someone—Caroline!—that he’s obviously interested in), Laura with Liz (who’s talking animatedly and apparently angrily about something).
I play “Got to Get You off My Mind” by Solomon Burke, and everyone has a go, just out of duty, even though only the best dancers would be able to make something of it, and nobody in the room could claim to be among the best dancers, or even among the most average. When Laura hears the opening bars she spins round and grins and makes several thumbs-up signs, and I start to compile in my head a compilation tape for her, something that’s full of stuff she’s heard of, and full of stuff she’d play. Tonight, for the first time ever, I can sort of see how it’s done.
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High Fidelity
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Nick Hornby, High Fidelity
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