Harry “The Hipster” Gibson was a fellow at the Julliard Graduate School, but his actual playing style was a mix of boogie, stride, jazz, and ragtime – combined with, um, shall we say, “unorthodox” lyrics. He was a force of nature at the piano in both playing and performance. Having grown up near Harlem, he spoke the way everyone in uptown New York spoke – jive.

Stop That Dancing Up There is like nothing else written at it’s time. Funny, quirky, and clearly insane, yet not “cutsie” like some other novelty tunes of the period, it shows how far ahead of his time Gibson was.

Look online to find other great songs by Harry, as well as a biographical movie short called “Boogie In Blue”. And read the Wikipedia entry on him for more info.

I was standing on the corner, in the middle of the block
I saw a lady standing there, sitting on a rock
As she began to talk, I ran as fast as I could walk,
I heard her shout “Look out! Stop that dancing up there!”

I was strolling through the park in the middle of the night
The night was very dark cause the sun was shining bright
I spied a lark and the lark began to bark,
“Stop that dancing up there!”

Some folks say that I’m insane
And just as goofy as can be
But they’re all wrong, I’m all right
Everybody’s crazy but me

I’m living in the cellar, on the 7th floor
I can’t go to sleep ’till I hear myself snore
Now the people downstairs say I’m an awful square
When I shout, “Hey, stop that dancing up there!”

©1943 by Harry “The Hipster” Gibson, all rights reserved.

You can see a video I made for this song (with full instrumentation) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6_TLaa-AVc

During one of the tours in the UK, I stopped and spent time looking at a war memorial. I noticed that, in WW1, there would be groups of people with the same surname – indicating that an entire male generation of a family had been wiped out.

Then, under the WW2 section, there would be some of the same surnames. I thought “what kind of courage did it take to go to war against the same enemy, in the same countries, that had decimated your family?”

My mom grew up in wartime London. I’ve never asked her about who she lost, and the few times I asked what it was like she would say things like “we would go down to the shelters, and the next day the houses that had been there were gone”.

But I wrote this to honor those brave men and women whose names are now etched in stone. One day, when you pass by a memorial, take a few moments and read them.

Every one.

On a little street, in this little town
There’s a wooden bench, where the men sit down
You can see the names there,
Etched in stone
Of the men who died with their helmets on
There’s my father’s name, he died much too young
But here I go, I’m my father’s son
And if I don’t return to you
Make sure my name is up there too

Well they said that his would end all wars
So he left my mom, for a noble cause
And he wrote and told her everything
And she keeps his letters tied up with string
And now I’m told to serve with pride
In the killing fields where my father died
And if I don’t come back to you
Make sure my name is up there too

Do you ever stop, do you ever see?
Will you walk on by, or remember me
Will you look up close, and read every one
Do you see the fathers and the sons?
Do you see the fathers and the sons?

(play intro chords)

Well they cut him down with a dozen men
In the filthy trench that they’d won again
And the men who killed him died there too
When the next assault came charging through
Will I fight the sons of the very men
Who slew my father way back then
And what will happen if I do
Will I find my way back home to you?

Do you ever stop, do you ever see?
Will you walk on by, or remember me
Will you look up close, and read every one
Do you see the fathers and the sons?
Do you see the fathers and the sons?

And if I don’t come back to you
Make sure my name is up there too

©2015 by Russell Alexander, All Rights Reserved.