Skip to main content

Who knew...

'Tis the season for bridal bliss. 'Tis also the season for the accompanying reception dance. And what's a wedding reception without that most unique of all marriage celebration dance numbers: The Chicken Dance.

You know the drill. Polka starts, beak-quacking hand gestures, flapping, butt shimmying, and clapping ensue. A fun time is had by all (especially if there's an open bar).

What you may not know is that:

1. This oom-pah song's origins rest with a Swiss according player named Werner Thomas who wrote it, most accounts say, in the 1950s. It originally was called the Duck Dance.

2. It is NOT German or Austrian, despite the images its roll-out-the-barrel-ish feelings it might conjure up.

3. A fellow named Norm Edlebeck, who was a bandleader from Wisconsin, introduced America to the Chicken Dance on TV's PM Magazine in 1982.

4. More than 140 versions of it have been recorded worldwide, including Walt Disney Records, together making more than 40,000,000 records (or whatever those wacky kids call 'em these days). I'd like to point out that, according to the Recording Industry Association of America, The Beatles' Hey Jude has sold fewer than 10 million copies.

5. Motley Crue frontman Vince Neil served as the Grand Marshall of the World's Largest Chicken Dance at the Cincinnati Oktoberfest in 2004, and the event was dubbed the No. 1 Least Metal Moment of all time by VH1.

6. In Italian, the song is titled "Il ballo del qua qua." Cracks me up.

7. Chicken Dance didn't make the cut in this year's Top 200 Wedding Dance Songs as compiled by DiscJockeys.com. The top three were Dancing Queen by Abba, Hey Ya by Outkast and You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC.

More than you wanted to know? I've heard this Chicken song more times than I ever wanted to hear it. It's still wildly popular worldwide, though, going strong for about 50 years.

That's longer than most marriages last.

Comments

Jenni said…
Does it have words? The girls sing some funny words to it!
Brianne said…
What? You mean YMCA didn't make the top 3? I find that hard to believe. :) I cannot stand the Chicken Song. It gives me a headache. I prefer the slightly less annoying Bunny Hop which is oddly absent at weddings these days... at least the weddings I've been to recently

Popular posts from this blog

Holy Separated-At-Birth, Batman!

Gary Oldman...meet Uncle Knit-Knots from Imagination Movers.

So, I Changed My Mind

More than four years ago, the blog and I parted ways. I needed a change. A whole lot happened in my world since then. I switched jobs a couple times. My kid went from an elementary school tween to a teenage high schooler. We built a new house and moved. Both my parents and my sister have passed. The world around me changed as well. Mass shootings, racism, the #metoo movement, a misogynistic bigoted narcissist in the White House ... go ahead, add to the list. Toss your woes into this dumpster fire we call 2019.  I appreciate my previous sentiment, that I was no longer wandering. But let's be honest, we're all trying to find our way through this mess. I decided to reboot the blog to give myself a creative outlet, a way to sort through the confusion and frustration and attempt to make sense of it all. I have a voice, and I'm not keen to silence it anymore. Guess what? I'm back, bitches.

In memoriam...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...