In the late 90’s, there was this feeling that after grunge and alt-rock killed the 80’s with extreme prejudice, our parents were left to wonder what they were allowed to like after their music was no longer deemed cool. And there like a candy bar placed under a box being held up by a stick was Riverdance, waiting to prey on their disposable income.
But I really think we should re-evaluate just what the actual fuck happened to make Riverdance the multi-million dollar powerhouse it became because it does not make any sense.
Michael Flatley, the so-called ‘Lord of the Dance’, seemingly came out of nowhere during the ‘94 Eurovision contest to capture the hearts and minds of 40-something boomers who’d clearly seen the ‘Pure Moods’ infomercial one too many times. Fast forward three years and every other commercial is selling the world on Irish step dancing being the biggest dancing sensation since Michael Jackson’s moonwalk.
Mind you this was at the height of alternative rock and (arguably) the best era of hip-hop. And yet people bought enough tickets to sell out shows to watch, rapt in awe mind you, people dance like they’re crushing a sudden cockroach infestation with occasional leaps. I feel like somebody was supposed to make sure Riverdance didn’t take up too big a chunk of the zeitgeist, but was distracted by the Monica Lewinsky scandal. Alas, Pitchfork wasn’t yet powerful enough to stop it.
It was always my assumption that Irish step dancing was just something you did to put on your college application when you weren’t cut out for real dancing. I get that this is a time-honored tradition in Ireland and in a bar setting three whiskeys deep it fucking rules, it’s just that Michael Flatley is from Chicago which made this whole thing seem like he was doing a bit as an excuse to dress like Sigfried and/or Roy.
Don’t tell me it didn’t happen. I saw it happen.
Honestly, the whole country just let Riverdance fever wash over it with absolutely no resistance. Flatley was just leading people into packed out venues like some kind of greased up and shirtless pied piper, and everyone involved in the production made out like bandits too. They were even selling a soundtrack of people stomping for fuck’s sake!
Riverdance lives on believe it or not, and we need to send tickets to some cultural anthropologists and figure out why before it’s too late and it comes back around like another wave of ska.