Having the Time of Your Life
The empowering nostalgia of ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’
We are nearing the end of the year, and the celebrations that come along with it are already in full force — be they office work parties, new year’s eve celebrations, or small gatherings among friends. One song that makes playlists at most of these events is ABBA’s 1976 chart topper Dancing Queen.
There is a viewpoint that ABBA’s Dancing Queen is a sad song — the melancholy undertones in the music and lyrics betraying the apparent cheeriness of ABBA’s disco-adjacent chartbuster. In an article in Vice, Angus Harrison goes further and posits that Dancing Queen is in fact, the saddest record ever made. However, I disagree — while Dancing Queen is steeped in nostalgia, it is nostalgia in the most positive sense. The song is, in fact, a universal statement of empowerment, uniting people of all ages in reclaiming their lost past for one more time.
With a bit of music, everything is fine
Let me start by saying that Dancing Queen is one of my favourite songs — two hundred and thirty one seconds of musical perfection. This is hardly a hot take — the song is a guaranteed dance-floor-filler at weddings, parties, and clubs; was praised as “the best pop song ever” in The Guardian; has been acclaimed and imitated by musicians including Elvis Costello, Blondie, MGMT, and many more; won many awards and continues to top public surveys.
The universal praise the song receives is a combination of several factors. It has mostly simple lyrics — easily singable, and in simple English. It has several iconic moments — the initial piano roll, the almost laidback beat punctuated by sharp and glistening piano notes, and the chorus sung in perfect harmony by Anni-Frid and Agnetha. But most importantly, it speaks to everyone who is, or has been young, and encourages them to live or relive that youth, even if it’s just for one song or one night.
Time stops for none of us — we are all older than we ever were, and sometimes the weight of time pulls on us. Dancing Queen’s lyrics are steeped in ambiguity, but focus on a person who is on the dance floor. Angus Harrison’s aforementioned article hypothesizes that the singer is watching a seventeen-year-old in wistful nostalgia, remembering what she once was; however, I posit that the song is actually a pep talk by the protagonist who is transforming herself into her own seventeen-year-old self through this song.
This should be evident from the start — unlike most songs, Dancing Queen starts with the chorus — You can dance / You can jive / Having the time of your life. The protagonist is in effect, hyping herself up and convincing herself that she can reclaim the glory days of her youth, and once more be the dancing queen. Agnetha and Anni-Frid’s vocals seem to highlight this, with the stress on the word “you” every time they sing these lines, as if it is a motivational call.
The verse fills in some of the gaps for us. The protagonist is also clearly in a bit of a funk — it’s a Friday night and she’s “looking for a place to go.” What changes her night is the music and the dance floor — with a bit of rock music, “everything is fine,” and she transports herself back to the past.
Who among us has not gone through such a (mild) crisis? All of us have probably felt lost on some weekends, wallowing in memories of the past and longing for the good old days. We progressed from dancing through the entire night to stressing about lower back pain every time we dance; from having no cares and worries as we go out on a weekend, to falling prey to the Sunday scaries as we iron our clothes and clear emails in preparation for the long work week ahead; from living a fast-paced and energetic social life, to being slowed down by time.
And that’s where the protagonist of the song is doing what we all aspire to do — once more seizing the opportunity, and becoming the center of attraction on the dance floor. The musical structure of the song also reflects these ups-and-downs — the energy starts from a peak in the chorus, slows down as the protagonist perhaps grabs her breath in each verse, and then peps up with every chorus being a step up in energy from the previous, ending in the almost-screamed final rendition — a final, primal moment of fighting the flow of time and winning; everything left on the dance floor in one last release before the music fades out, and life becomes real again.
Anybody could be that person
Yet another piece of evidence in support of this interpretation is the performance of the song in the film version of Mamma Mia (which had Benny and Björn of ABBA as consultants, and also featured cameos from them — including in this song).
Watch the movie scene linked above — it starts with Meryl Streep’s Donna claiming she grew up and is too old for the song-and-dance she used to be known for as the lead singer of her band. Her friends tell her to “grow back down again,” and sing this song to turn back the clock for Donna. Once they convince her and the trio head out, they also attract various others who drop their cares, worries, and responsibilities for a few moments of uninhibited freedom. The song here is to pep up Donna, but also resonates with townspeople of all demographics who dance with abandon.
And that is the universal empowering magic of Dancing Queen — not only is it not one of the saddest songs ever; it really is one of the most positive and uplifting songs ever. Whether you are a thirty-year-old coming to terms with being older than many others at the club on a late night, or a forty-five-year-old driving home tired from work late on a Friday night, or a sixty-year-old seeing the younger generation on the dance floor at a wedding, hearing this song is an energizing call to action that makes everyone young again. The song reminds us that in some ways, we are now what we once aspired to be, while in other ways, we once were what we now aspire to be. Time may flow in only one direction, but it is in our power to reverse that flow for a few minutes — after all, when we get the chance, we can also be the dancing queen.
Note: this article sprung from a conversation in February 2023 with someone I once knew. Over coffees and pastries, hidden from the cold outside, we discussed our differing philosophies towards life — a fitting final conversation for us to have had.
