Jim Henson had a problem in 1986. He had a script about a girl entering a labyrinth, a massive budget for puppets, and a vision for a Goblin King that was both menacing and weirdly charismatic. He needed a rock star. Not just any singer, but someone who could carry a cape, pull off 1980s hair, and sing to a bunch of goblins without looking ridiculous. David Bowie didn't just accept the role; he basically redefined what a "family movie" musical number could be.
The song Dance Magic Dance David Bowie performed in Labyrinth is arguably the peak of 80s fantasy cinema. It’s strange. It’s catchy. It’s deeply, deeply camp.
The Goblin King’s Secret Weapon
Think about the sheer audacity of "Magic Dance." Bowie is sitting on a throne, surrounded by creatures made of foam and latex, tossing a baby—actually Toby Froud, who grew up to be a puppeteer himself—into the air. It’s a scene that shouldn't work. On paper, it sounds like a disaster. But Bowie’s performance turned it into a cultural touchstone that still trends on TikTok and gets played at every retro 80s night from London to Los Angeles.
Honestly, the track is a masterclass in pop construction. It’s got that heavy, gated reverb on the drums that defined the decade. It has the call-and-response structure that makes it impossible not to hum along. "You remind me of the babe." "What babe?" "The babe with the power." That’s not just a lyric; it’s a verbal handshake for an entire generation of film nerds.
What most people don't realize is that Bowie actually did the baby gurgles himself. The baby on set wasn't performing on cue, so Bowie just stepped up to the mic and provided the "googoo gaagaa" sounds. It’s a funny detail that shows how much he committed to the bit. He wasn't "phoning it in" for a kids' movie. He was being David Bowie.
The Production Behind the Chaos
The recording of the song happened at Abbey Road Studios and Westside Studios in London. Bowie worked with producer Arif Mardin, a heavyweight who had worked with everyone from Chaka Khan to Bee Gees. They weren't making a "puppet song." They were making a dance-pop record.
Bowie brought his own flair to the choreography, too. He had to navigate a set filled with dozens of puppeteers hidden under the floorboards and inside the walls. If you watch the scene closely, you can see the sheer coordination required to keep the energy up while ensuring no one tripped over a stray goblin hand.
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Why We Are Still Obsessed With Dance Magic Dance David Bowie
It’s about the transformation. By 1986, Bowie had already lived through Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane, and the Thin White Duke. Jareth the Goblin King was just another mask, but it was one that felt accessible. For many kids in the 80s, this was their first introduction to the man who fell to earth.
Labyrinth didn't actually set the world on fire at the box office. It was kind of a flop initially. It took years of VHS rentals and cable TV repeats for the movie—and this song specifically—to reach legendary status. Now, you can't go to a convention without seeing someone in those tight grey leggings and a feathered wig.
The song works because it bridges the gap between the grotesque and the glamorous. Henson’s puppets were gritty and detailed, often a bit scary for younger viewers. Bowie’s presence acted as the glue. He brought a sense of playfulness to the dark fantasy world. When he sings "Magic dance, magic dance," he’s inviting the audience to stop worrying about the plot and just enjoy the spectacle.
Breaking Down the Lyrics
The "babe with the power" bit is actually a reference to the 1947 film The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer, starring Cary Grant. In that movie, there's a back-and-forth:
"You remind me of a man."
"What man?"
"The man with the power."
Bowie took that old Hollywood trope and flipped it for the Goblin King. It’s a brilliant nod to classic cinema hidden inside a song about jumping magic. It adds a layer of sophistication that adults catch while the kids are just watching the puppets do backflips.
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The Technical Side of the Magic
Musically, the song is a weird hybrid. It features heavy synthesizers, but also a very prominent saxophone part—a Bowie staple. The slap bass line gives it a funkier edge than your standard movie soundtrack fare. It feels like it belongs on the same shelf as his Let’s Dance era material, just with more mentions of slime and bog of eternal stench.
The music video—which is essentially the scene from the film—is a marvel of practical effects. There’s no CGI here. Every goblin you see is a physical object being manipulated by a human being. When Bowie interacts with them, it feels tactile and real. That’s why the song hits differently than modern movie musicals. There’s a physical weight to the performance.
A Legacy of Sparkles and Spandex
We need to talk about the costume. The lace cravat. The leather. The hair that defied gravity. Jareth’s look in the "Magic Dance" sequence influenced an entire aesthetic of "goblin-core" and 80s glam that refuses to die. It’s been referenced in everything from Adventure Time to RuPaul’s Drag Race.
Critics at the time were sometimes dismissive. They thought Bowie was "selling out" by doing a puppet movie. Looking back, that’s a ridiculous take. Bowie was an artist who thrived on artifice and theatricality. What is more theatrical than a musical number in a castle beyond the Goblin City?
How to Experience the Song Today
If you’re looking to revisit the track, don't just settle for a low-bitrate YouTube rip. The 30th-anniversary soundtrack remaster brings out the clarity in the percussion and Bowie’s vocal layering. You can hear the grit in his voice when he shouts "Bring me the child!" It’s a reminder of his range.
Many people also overlook the B-sides and the rest of the Labyrinth soundtrack. While "As The World Falls Down" is the beautiful ballad, and "Underground" is the soul-inflected opener, Dance Magic Dance David Bowie is the heart of the film. It’s the moment of pure, unadulterated joy in a story that’s otherwise quite tense and surreal.
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Common Misconceptions
People often think the baby in the scene is crying because they were scared of the puppets. In reality, Toby Froud was reportedly quite chill on set. The "crying" sounds were mostly added in post-production to fit the narrative of the kidnapped baby.
Another weird myth is that Bowie hated the song. There’s no evidence for that. He performed his Labyrinth hits during his 1987 Glass Spider Tour, though "Magic Dance" was often relegated to intro music or snippets. He knew what the fans wanted, even if he was always moving on to the next persona.
To truly appreciate the impact of this track, you have to look at how it functions as a piece of gateway media. It introduced children to the concept of "cool." Not the sanitized, corporate cool of modern pop stars, but a weird, slightly dangerous, and highly creative version of cool.
Practical Steps for Fans and Collectors:
- Check the Vinyl Pressings: If you're a collector, look for the original 1986 EMI America pressing. The gatefold art is spectacular and captures the Henson/Bowie collaboration perfectly.
- Watch the "Inside the Labyrinth" Documentary: This behind-the-scenes film shows the literal "magic" of how they timed the puppet movements to Bowie’s singing. It’s a masterclass in coordination.
- Analyze the Vocal Tracks: Listen to the song with high-quality headphones. Focus on the backing vocals; Bowie layered his own voice multiple times to create the "goblin choir" effect, giving the song its eerie, multifaceted depth.
- Explore the 12-inch Remix: There is a long-version dance mix of "Magic Dance" that was released for clubs. It strips back the vocals and emphasizes the 80s drum machines, showing just how well the track works as a standalone club hit.
The enduring power of the song lies in its refusal to be normal. It’s a high-fashion rock icon singing to a room full of monsters about a baby. It’s peak 1980s, and it’s peak David Bowie.