An ode to Michael Gray’s ‘The Weekend’

But I didn’t witness any of that first hand. I came across the track about two years later at the musically curious age of 16. I was already a fan of Daft Punk, the lush chords and groovy, over-compressed basslines of French Touch spoke to me. But I wasn’t all the way into dance music, there were just a few outliers. So why am I now here signaling it’s virtues in a public forum? Well, partly because it's a shameless rip off of ‘Voyager’ a track that I thought was the most underrated Daft Punk tune on ‘Discovery’ but also because it's just happy.

The lyrics aren’t winning a Mercury Prize, but how many times have you literally (LITERALLY) said to your co-worker on a Friday afternoon, head buried in emails, “I can’t wait for the weekend (to begin)”. That’s the main line in the song, mate! Fuck your “it’s better to burn out than fade away”, Gray's lyric taps into the most primal instinct of the modern human: To escape neo-liberalism for just two days.

Combine that with an infectious stuttering lead, the pumping drops, a funky AF bassline and it takes you to a hands-in-the-air place. Seeing as I was yet to feel the warm embrace of a club at the age of 16, I turned to Michael Gray’s warm embrace instead.

I’m really not going to try and assign any worldly, overarching theme to ‘The Weekend’ (the song has recently become a meme). It didn’t change music, it didn’t inspire anyone and it isn't iconic. Gray seems to be a pretty cut and dry, cheese and ham-eating, Myspace-using, half-naked women dancing over funky house drums combined with overt disco samples kinda guy. He probably doesn’t give a shit about changing the course of underground house music, he just wanted to slam out a track that made people dance, and he got lucky the combination of vocals, melody and rhythm made it a hit.

It’s funny, the more I research this song and think about it, I go back to listen and expect to hate it. But 45 seconds in I’m already filled with the familiar feelings of joy. It’s like going back to a poisonous ex: when I’m away, I see the light and the logic of not liking it. Then, in an attempt to prove to myself I am finally resistant of it’s charms, I revisit it. But instead of walking away, I’m gyrating uncontrollably hoping no one sees while feelings of both shame and comfort rattle around in my bones. Am I forgiven for my sins? Probably not. Was it worth it? Hell yes.

Louis Anderson-Rich is Mixmag's Digital Intern and lives for the weekend. Follow him on Twitter