Barack and Ellen

Together, they danced…

On October 29, 2007, Senator Barack Obama appeared on the Ellen Degeneres Show. Every guest of the show is invited to dance with Degeneres, and as Obama made his way downstage to meet her, she met him halfway, and together, they danced.

It was a moment full of obvious joy and humor, and the studio audience (and I imagine millions more  around the world) enthusiastically cheered and shouted for them. I did too. But months later, while the debates on race, religion, identity, and sexual orientation raged on, I thought back to those few moments and realized just how special, and meaningful, their dance was.

Here was a young, mixed-race, heterosexual man dancing with a young, white, lesbian woman, all on national television. Could this scene have happened in the 1960s, 1970s, or even 1980s? It all made for great television, and even greater theater, but as a composer, I was inspired by the total relevance of it all, that our future president had found yet another way to communicate the sharp wit of his intellectual prowess: through the comfortable ease of his hips and body. Obama, to some, has always been good looking, but now his dancing body carried political capital. He wasn’t just young; he was cool — and hot! And if he could dance with anyone, what else could he do? Isn’t dancing with someone just another way of talking with someone? Doesn’t a great dance partner make for a great conversationalist?

Dancers, Dreamers, and Presidents takes its title and inspiration from the 21-second dance shared by Obama and Degeneres. Each word of the title represents a movement in the piece, and each movement revolves around the instruments of the orchestra combining, layering, and “dancing” with one another. Dancers begins with a loud, banging solo for the timpani and drum kit, and the music of this movement is derived almost entirely from the rhythms of the drum kit’s low, pounding kick-drum. Dreamers begins with the ominous growls of the contrabass section, followed by the interlocking of small, constantly repeating musical vignettes assigned to each section of the orchestra. Presidents begins with the sound of a synthesizer and its repeated chordal patterns, but it quickly evolves into a hip-hop beat, clear melodic fragments, and techno-inspired block chords.

As a composer, it’s always been challenging for me to find inspiration in purely musical ideas. I’m much more comfortable creatively responding to the hotbed issues of our daily news, the struggles within our communities, and the heated debates that can happen in our homes. The original plan of this piece was to have the musicians clap their hands, stomp their feet, sing, shout, and preach (testify!) to the audience exactly what I was thinking. I even thought that Obama’s and Degeneres’ words would make for a fascinating libretto that I could set for a chorus comprised of the members of the orchestra. However, after months of careful consideration, I realized one of the most appealing aspects of instrumental music, devoid of text, was its ability to allow the audience member to assign his/her own ideas, words, and meanings to the music. The intrinsic, and elusive, nature of instrumental music allows us, both as listeners and as followers, the ability to hear the voice of the composer and complete those sentences of sound. In this way, listening to good music is like dancing with a great friend; it’s all about the partnership.

Watching Obama and Degeneres dance might not save or change our world, but it certainly says many things about where we were, who we are, and how we all will get there as “one nation under God” (or ”under a groove,” depending on who you are). Maybe the journey begins not by screaming at each other, but by dancing with one another.

So tonight, like Bowie: “Let’s dance!”

Daniel Bernard Roumain (DBR)

Dover, Massachusetts

July 2010

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