Baby When The Lights Go Out David Guetta

My general theory of party dynamics goes like this: everyone wants to dance when they're young. Call it natural exuberance, an excess of hormones and energy, the mating ritual. In their thirties most people slow down. Some want to talk or eat, the drinkers want to drink, the young parents want to get home early (the babysitter has already called), but you can still rely on the singles to dance, the ones who think they might get lucky if enough bodies bump together, and the new mothers who've got themselves back in shape and want to show it. Then you're pushing fifty, or God forbid pulling it, and your dancing shoes start to pinch. The hosts try their luck anyway, they move the chairs out of the TV room and rig up some speakers, they might even put a red bulb in the fitting. As the night wears on, the keen dancers turn up the volume and a few partners are pulled away from their conversations, but the action might fizzle out in half an hour if the talkers hold their ground.

Baby When The Lights Go Out David Guetta

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