Bareilles’s raw, piano-driven ballad is a masterclass in building tension. The lyrics speak of an inescapable pull, but it's the swell in the chorus—that moment the vocals break—that creates a perfect arc for physical storytelling. It’s a song about weight, both emotional and physical.

Start grounded, palms pressed down. Rise with the pre-chorus, fall with the word "gravity."

Drenched in reverb and regret, this track is less a memory and more a ghost. The steady, haunting rhythm provides a pulse for a slow, sustained exploration of loss. The emotional core is in the spaces between the words, in the echo.

Focus on port de bras and slow développés. Let your gaze be your guide, always looking just past the audience.

Intimate, vulnerable, and building to a powerful climax, this is a song for solos about isolation and the need for connection. The staccato piano notes in the beginning invite sharp, isolated movements that gradually melt into flowing, desperate reaches.

The climax isn't a jump—it's a collapse caught and transformed into a turn. Use the floor as a partner.

This isn't a song of drama, but of scale. The layered vocals and expansive instrumentation make the personal feel universal, and the individual feel small yet significant. It’s a soundtrack for realizing your place in a vast, beautiful world.

Perfect for group work. Dancers can orbit each other like celestial bodies, creating and breaking forms in the space.

Aurora’s ethereal voice dances over a driving electronic pulse, creating a contrast that is pure lyrical gold. It’s about both escape and embracing a wilder self. The rhythm is persistent, urging movement forward, while the vocals float above, suggesting flight.

The bridge is for spinning. Let the turns become frantic, then suddenly cease into a controlled, defiant pose.

A profound sense of warmth and inevitable loss coexists here. The orchestral swell builds a structure around the fragile vocal, perfect for duets or solos about connection, memory, and the passage of time. It feels like watching something beautiful decay in slow motion.

The final, quiet piano notes are for a slow walk offstage—a departure that feels both sad and complete.