In One Weird Dance
The Songwriting Diary: Two Twenty-Twos
My LP “A Date With A Smoke Machine” is 15 years old this year. It’s a record that I think marked a significant leap forward in my songwriting. You can find it on Bandcamp and your fave streaming service. There’s also a special, limited time bundle available: a vinyl copy of Smoke Machine and my newest LP, “Split Seconds On Earth”! You can find that bundle price on Bandcamp here.
My song “Two Twenty Twos” first appeared on “A Date With A Smoke Machine”.
Here’s the story that inspired it.
******
“You crush too easily.”
As she spoke, she stared at me and slowly emptied sand from her swanky dress shoes.
Who wears dress shoes to the beach, I thought to myself. As I was crushing on her.
I wondered if somehow she could see right through me.
In reality though, I was an aimless, disheveled university kid wearing converse running shoes, ripped jeans, a plaid shirt and a fake leather jacket. In other words, I wasn’t dressed for the beach either.
I looked down at her feet in the sand and waited for her to explain.
Crush too easily.
I was in awe of how she said certain words. Her accent had a unique and street-tough sexy swagger, like she’d just stepped off the set of a New York City film shoot. When we got out of the cab, I wanted so badly to ask her to say “I’m walking here”.
“I’ve loaded up on 222s for the flight home tomorrow,” she said, radically changing the subject, possibly letting me off the hook for calling me out on my perceived crush tendencies. “They’re for my Dad. You can’t get them over the counter in the States.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because of the codeine, silly. You can’t get that without a prescription in New York. Now I guess I’m a drug smuggler.”
She laughed as she took off her other shoe, slowly poured out the sand and shuffled her feet on the fake beach beneath us. I watched her fancy shoes dangle from her fingers and I wondered if coming to this so-called beach was such a good idea.
We had dropped in to check out a dance party organized by the residence social club in the basement of an old university building. It was dank, musty and stunk of stale beer. Drunk university kids clowned around us in the sand as the DJ cranked the music, trying to whip the small crowd into believing there was nowhere else they would rather be. But of course there was.
From the DJ table, red and blue spotlights bounced off a large umbrella in the middle of the pretend-beach party. The umbrella had duct tape across the top, partially covering the Corona Cerveza logo and I suspected the students in charge of this shindig had pulled it out of this week’s garbage, thrilled by the timing of their find. That, or they stole it from the Mexicali Rosa’s up the street.
There were green streamers and green Christmas lights and a bunch of ratty beach towels hanging on a makeshift clothesline. There was also a kiddy pool filled with water. A piece of cardboard torn from a beer case was leaning against it. The cardboard had been crudely fashioned into a sign and someone had scrolled on it with black marker: “The Ocean. Come On In.”
We were in the deep, dark depths of a Montreal winter so it felt weird standing in sand when it was minus 20 outside.
“Why do you think I crush too easily?” I asked, turning back to the subject, my curiosity festering.
“Ah, I know your type,” she said playfully, slipping her shoes back on. “C’mere. Dance with me.”
She grabbed my arms and pulled me toward her.
She was right. I was crushing too easily. I barely knew this girl and already I was entranced by this thick-accented newbie drug dealer, dancing on a fake beach in a dingy basement.
I felt my neck tingle as she leaned in close and let her lips almost touch my ear. “I’m leaving for the airport at 6am,” she said softly, but loud enough so I could hear her over the B-52s.
As the tingle made its way down my shoulder, I processed what she said. The thought of getting up before noon on a winter Sunday morning sent an unpleasant chill down my spine. While I couldn’t imagine getting up at that time on any morning, the thought of doing it after a night of partying was unfathomable. But my interest in her was growing, so before I could assess the impacts of the offer, I blurted it out: “Oh, cool, I’ll drive you.”
“Yeah right!” she responded with a hearty laugh. “You’ll be so asleep and so hungover. I’ll be landing in LaGuardia before you even get up to take a leak.”
“No, I won’t be,” I said, trying to sound earnest and convincing, while shuffling my Chuck Taylors in the sand. “I’ll drive you. I used to drive drug smugglers to the airport at the crack of dawn all the time. It’s no big deal.”
That made her laugh again.
“Oh, we’ll see. Time. Will. Tell.”
Oh, that accent.
Then she pulled back while still holding my wrists and stared into my eyes with a flirty and stoic look on her face. It was as if she was peering deep into my soul to inspect how truthful I was being. Should she immediately call me on my bullshit and call a cab in the morning? Or was this slacker bum to be trusted?
Then I wondered again. Could she see right through me?
“Anyway, for the record, I don’t think I crush too easily,” I said, feeling awkward about her stare and changing the subject while lying to her and to myself.
“Oh, we’ll see. Time will tell,” she said again with her piercing stare and wicked smile as the B-52s song ended.
She let go of my arms and grabbed my waist with one hand to balance herself as she reached down to empty one of those fancy shoes again.
As I watched the sand slowly pour out from her shoe and reunite with the fake beach on the cold cement floor, I made a mental note to set my alarm clock.
“Two Twenty Twos” is likely the the shortest song I’ve ever written, certainly with the least amount of lyrics. But the story I time-capsuled in these four lines is a sweet and memorable one for me and I look back on that time hanging out with my friend from New York fondly.
I’m pretty sure we were going for a Cecelia vibe in the studio when Dave Draves and I recorded this.
I’m not sure what we were going for with that creepy DIY video though. But, ‘tis the season!
Lyrics:
In one weird dance
You asked me with your eyes closed
In sand and codeine laughs
I drove you to the airport.
And exclusively for my Substack followers, a recent acoustic version.
Thanks for reading and listening!
I had wondered about this track in the past..the bts story really brings it to life again! (Pun intended, considering the Indy video images) Stories behind songs is the way into everyone’s imagination! (I’m trying to picture those fancy dress shoes) Great post!