When the Music Hits Your Body Before Your Brain
There's this moment in a good lyrical routine—right before the first big movement—where the music swells and the dancer just breathes. You can see it in their chest, their shoulders dropping, their eyes going somewhere internal. That's what I live for as a choreographer, and it only happens when the song is right.
I've been teaching lyrical for about eight years now, and I've watched hundreds of students pick songs. Some tracks look good on paper but fall flat in the studio. Others make a fifteen-year-old move like she's lived three lifetimes. Here are five that consistently do the heavy lifting.
1. "Breathe Me" — Sia
You've probably seen this one in a So You Think You Can Dance routine or twelve. There's a reason it keeps showing up. That opening cello line is like a slow exhale, and Sia's voice cracks in exactly the right places—not polished, not pretty, just real.
One of my students, maybe six years ago, used this for a piece about her parents' divorce. She didn't tell anyone what it was about. She didn't have to. The way she folded into herself during the bridge said everything. Judges cried. I cried. She won her category, but that's almost beside the point.
The song builds without getting loud, which is rare and incredibly useful for choreography. You have room to breathe in the verses and then the chorus lets you go.
2. "The Night We Met" — Lord Huron
This one's tricky, honestly. It's popular—maybe too popular—and I've seen some mediocre routines set to it because dancers assume the song does the work for them. It doesn't.
But when someone actually listens to the lyrics, when they understand that this isn't just a sad love song but a song about wanting to undo an entire life... it becomes devastating. The guitar picking is repetitive in a way that lets you establish a motif and then break it. I've used it for group pieces where dancers represent different versions of the same memory, fading in and out.
Fair warning: it's been used a lot. If you pick this one, you'd better bring something fresh to the table or the judges will check out before your first leap.
3. "Jealous" — Labrinth
Okay, so this one's a bit of a cheat because Labrinth performed it live on stage with just a piano and it's that version that does it for me. The studio recording is good. The stripped version is a gut punch.
I had a male student—maybe seventeen, all long limbs and quiet intensity—who choreographed a solo to this about watching his best friend drift away to a different friend group. Completely mundane, completely universal. He did this thing where he'd reach toward the audience and then pull his hand back, over and over, each time a little more broken. Simple. Effective. Still gets me thinking about it.
The melody has this aching quality without being overwrought. You can do a lot with stillness in this song.
4. "When the Party's Over" — Billie Eilish
Here's where I might lose some of you older choreographers, but hear me out. Billie Eilish's music is made for movement interpretation. Her production is sparse, her voice is close-miked like she's whispering in your ear, and there's all this negative space in her tracks.
This particular song has been adopted by contemporary and lyrical dancers pretty aggressively in the last few years. The "I'll pack my things and go" section gives you a clear emotional shift that works beautifully for choreographic storytelling. I've seen dancers use it for pieces about leaving toxic relationships, about growing up, about saying goodbye to childhood. It's versatile in a way that a lot of emotional ballads aren't.
Plus, the tempo sits in this sweet spot—not so slow you're dragging, not so fast you lose the vulnerability.
5. "Turning Page" — Sleeping at Last
This is my "break glass in case of emergency" recommendation. Student can't find a song? Turning Page. Need something for a wedding first dance that'll make everyone sob? Turning Page. Looking for music that sounds like falling in love feels? Turning Page.
Ryan O'Neal (the guy behind Sleeping at Last) writes music that sounds like it was composed specifically for dancers, which is probably why so many choreographers gravitate toward it. The dynamics are built into the arrangement—you get these gentle rises that practically beg for extensions and floor work.
I will say this: because it's so beautiful and so perfectly structured, it can make lazy choreography look passable. That's a trap. The song is giving you a gift, but you still have to earn the audience's tears with actual movement quality and intention.
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One Last Thing
These songs are suggestions, not prescriptions. I've seen incredible lyrical routines set to hip-hop tracks and spoken word poetry and even silence. The music matters, but what matters more is what you do with it.
Pick a song that makes you feel something specific. Not "sad" or "happy"—those are too vague. Pick a song that reminds you of a particular afternoon, a specific conversation, a smell, a texture. Then dance that.
The audience might not know what you're dancing about. That's fine. They'll know how it felt, and that's the whole point.
