Richmond's annual JotJ workshop weekend is only a week away and, with the excitement building, we caught up with organizer Andy Nishida to ask him a few questions about Virginia's longest running lindy weekend.
Q. So this is the 8th year for JotJ, that's practically a lindy hop lifetime. Did you and Rita originally envision the event would have such longevity?
A. Eight years is a long time! It's always a year-to-year decision if we're going to do it again, so no, we never dreamed it would be around this long. It's a lot of hard work and financially stressful at times but the weekend is always a lot of fun and is usually enough to convince us to do it again.
Q. What do you think makes Jammin' on the James special?
A. I think it's the small friendly vibe. We're not big like a lot of other regional events which are a lot of fun and very inspiring but one can sometimes feel lost in it all, especially a beginning Lindy Hopper. I've had past attendees tell me not to let JotJ get any bigger than it is. And we've made improvements (e.g., went from 2 to 4 instructors, added a beginner track and advanced classes, having a competition) over the years that have made it better but not necessarily too much bigger, so I think we've been able to retain that intimate feel.
Q. What are your event goals? What one thing would you like dancers to come away with?
A. Our goals now and when we started Jammin' was to bring world-class instructors to the area who maybe don't come to the mid-Atlantic states very often and provide the opportunity to our dancers to learn from the best. It's really all about allowing dancers to improve and realize what Lindy Hop can be for them and to inspire them to get better and to just have fun.
Q. Richmond's @ the center of many small local scenes: do you see JotJ as a local or regional event? Or based on the calibre of your instructors, are you a small national event. How do you define yourself.
A. We're definitely a regional event. I'm pretty sure we're not on the radar of dancers west of say Ohio although we've had random folks come from Colorado, California, Michigan, etc. Pretty much our radius of influence is about 500 miles or so.
Q. What level of dancer do you think would benefit the most from JotJ?
A. Although we have instruction to satisfy every level of dancer, I'd think those in the early intermediate stages will benefit most. They're at that stage where they've got the basics well in mind and they're starving to learn more. Also those who take the beginner track. They've made the brave decision to come out and learn to dance and they'll receive instruction from some of the best dancers on the planet and they'll hopefully be inspired by the dancing they see, the live music they hear, and the energy in the room at the dances.
Thanks, Andy. We'll see you on the 15th!
For more information and to register, check out
http://www.jamminonthejames.com/
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Trust, Growth, Contribution & Meaning - the 4 Things Dancers Need From Scene Leaders
I am frequently approached by dance organizers seeking advice about creating a successful dance scene. While, at first, many of their questions sound like they're about logistics or marketing, very often they're basic business management questions that boil down to either, "How do I play nice with others to create something appealing?" or "How do I compete with someone who doesn't play nice with others without becoming that way myself?"
While most realize building a dance scene is a business, very few scene leaders actually consider sound business management principles when looking to build a vibrant, sustainable dance scene. It's important for leaders to realize what they are offering - they're not selling food, shelter or any other necessity that people need to survive... they are selling a dream... I want to be "a dancer."
How do you sell something as unsellable as a dream? To quote George Ross, "To be successful, you have to be able to relate to people; they have to be satisfied with your personality to be able to do business with you and to build a relationship built on mutual trust." This is particularly true in the world of dancing, which is all about communicating with others, and taking the risk of expressing oneself creatively in a public setting. In short, make people happy and inspired.
Why do you want to make dancers happy? Because the big secret to creating a successful dance scene, which in turn leads to successful events, is merely to make people happy. Merely sell the happy dream of "I want to be a dancer."
Traditional business management says to workers, 'I'm the leader – you're the follower; I have something you need (money) and you have something I need (labor). Let's make an exchange.' At its basic level, this is like the dance organizer who says, “I don’t need input on how I run things. I just need your money from registering for my events so I can keep telling you where to put your feet.”
Successful leaders understand there is something bigger at work. An article by Dr. Cleve Stevens in the Harvard Business Review lays out the "Four Things Employees Need From Leaders"; not surprisingly, they are also applicable to building a vibrant dance scene with happy dancers.
The 4 key things dancers need to be happy:
1. The need to love and be loved
People need to feel focused concern and action directed at them for their personal good - this means personal loyalty and ethical behavior that shows respect, the ability to listen and critique fairly and appropriately, and ability to create an environment where a person feels safe from injury or ridicule. If newer dancers are getting injured during your lessons or dropping out because your scene feels elitist or creepy, the problem lies not with the potential new dancers, but with you for not providing a safe, welcoming environment.
These basic concepts are vital to building a reputation that encourages people to come out, and then continue coming out, to support you. Sadly, they are all too often overlooked when someone decides people will think they're cool if they're the one with their name on an event or teaching how to do a swingout.
Additionally, organizers don't become successful or host packed events by merely pointing out where other events fall short; rather, they put their energies into competing positively against THEMSELVES and besting their own track record of making clients (dancers) feel loved. Be the positive change you want to see in the dance world.
2. The need to grow
Nobody wants to keep doing the same thing over and over or merely show up hoping to maintain their current skill level enough to avoid decay. People want to be inspired to learn new things. Some will want a stiff challenge, others not as challenging, but people thrive on novelty.
Not the strongest instructor with the most solid footwork? That's okay, organizers aren't perfect at everything. Resist the urge to teach anyway and share the spotlight by recruiting a skilled, engaging instructor that inspires people and you'll score big points in people's books... besides maybe you'll even learn a couple things yourself and reignite your own passion.
3. The need to contribute
Feeling that somehow we're not contributing to a community can lead to a gnawing worry about our own adequacy or value. But when we make a contribution to it in a significant way and receive positive validation from the group, it brings an inexplicable peace of mind -- we feel we belong to something and our opinions are valued. Life works best when we are able to forget ourselves and contribute to others. In the corporate realm, to feel fulfilled and empowered, employees must know they are contributing to the whole.
I was recently at a dance where the organizer promoted himself extensively during announcements and concluded with "well, if nobody has anything else, let's get back to dancing." When one of the locals chimed in with "something else", the organizer's body language and audible sigh made it clear, her contribution was not welcome. Something as simple as being a good listener and allowing someone to feel like their ideas matter is an easy way to create happy dancers.
4. The need for meaning
We are meaning-seeking creatures. If our lives lack a clear sense of meaning, if we are not engaged in some larger purpose, we will not be fully satisfied. People need to know how a specific task fits into the bigger picture. 'Step, step, triple step' gets pretty darned repetitive and discouraging in a tiny sealed room with 20 people in it each week if they do not know about the existence of a world wide lindy hop community. Share inspiring moments and ideas from exchanges, workshops and competition to inspire your dancers to experiment, question, dream and to travel.
In conclusion, like a successful business (which a dance scene is), organizers need to embrace concepts that demonstrate a clear commitment and respect for local dancers, not merely see them as a replaceable revenue source to keep dance parties going or let you be the dance star you aspire to be. In other words, build a dance scene that is an endless series of relationships built on mutual trust.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Stompology (or “MTV Made: I want to be a Jazz Dancer”) - part 2
I’ll admit; I’ve got a weakness for NY state and I was thrilled to be flying in and seeing the city of Rochester pop up out of nothing but fields of green. I was picked up at the airport, had a great dinner, and a few hours later stepping into a fourth floor walkup dance studio to hear local musicians, the Rod Blumenau Swingtet, swinging the heck out of the place.
Truth be told, as I was pushing open the door, I didn’t know what to expect. Would I walk in and see everyone dancing solo or dancing in lots of Charleston or tap jam circles? But there nothing unusual here; just a very friendly group of solid dancers with good musicality dancing to unexpectedly great music from a local band all night. Even better, all the instructors were right there dancing with anyone who asked (even lowly me who truthfully, didn't recognize instructor Bethany Powell when I asked). Heck, with all the familiar faces it made me feel like a small Swing out New Hampshire camp reunion. It was an incredibly fun (but warm) dance with few people sitting any out.
The highlight for me was about 30 minutes in when I asked Sharon to dance and, as the song was winding down, I realized the ending would be perfect to try Juan’s cute hook slide I’d stolen from Scram (or thought I had and would just have to find out). So, I set it up and nailed it perfectly only to feel an odd bump that left me thinking I’d screwed it up until I realized it was Sharon draping herself onto my side as she’d done in their routine and we both cracked up. Yup, 6 months of “what if?” day dream thoughts and it played out perfectly 30 minutes into the weekend. Of course, friends immediately joked, “Should we hand you your keys and you can drive home now having fulfilled your goal?” Instead, I beamed sheer joy and followed it up with my of my most enjoyable dances ever with Mike the girl. This weekend was going to be awesome!
Afterwards we were off the famed “Lindy Compound” for the late night, a fabled venue no one in our car had been to before. We all agreed the name conjured up images of Waco, Texas and we joked that we expected to find out buildings where follows in home sewn clothing communally raised the next generation of lindy hoppers. In truth, it was a house party in a home that was nicely decorated for, and by, dancers with enough space for any event they’d want to throw. As an aside, Sharon Davis was in the kitchen whipping up a quick little something. Yeah, add some cooking ability to the gal’s impressive list of skills.
I’ll admit, I was pretty fried so I found a very comfy couch after schmoozing and grabbing food in the kitchen and drifted in and out over the next couple hours to the sounds of dancing, merriment, and Juan Villafane giving out beatings on the home made arcade game in the corner. It was awesome to be at a house party where people all bring something and its real food, not just 30 different brands of chips and generic salsa.
Saturday morning brought the classes. Unfortunately the room temperature was too hot, but we just affectionately named the room the “Stompology Sweatlodge” and carried on in best NYS Indian nation tradition.
Struttin' & Cakewalkin' with Juan - Learn how to strut, kick and cakewalk like the great Nyas Berry of the Berry Brothers! The material was just different and physically challenging enough to really get us working hard and having a heck of a good time. It also gave you a good idea about the physical conditioning, dedication and historical accuracy Juan brings to his dancing. It was inspiring.
Fred & Ginger with Falty and Bethany - a class inspired by the ultimate in classic dance couples. Where Juan’s class worked us out, this one offered refinement and light, playful footwork. My tap really came in handy here and I came away vowing to watch all of Fred and Ginger’s movies.
Beatniks - Learn Sharon's fun new Beatnik jazz routine, with hot jazz and charleston steps given a Bop vibe. Sip an espresso, don your black turtleneck and beret, and come join the Beat generation. Bongos and beat poetry at the late night party. Words are almost insufficient. It’s Sharon Davis, my main dance crush, being silly and creative and teaching us completely off the wall stuff that still worked and got us thinking and moving in new ways. Plus, this time I’m taking her class without pneumonia in a weekend where I'm holding my own with everyone else in the place..
For the fellas: 50's Style Savoy Applejacks. This was an outdoor class late in the afternoon and I’ll admit I was too tired and unwilling to risk my knees dancing on the somewhat uneven grass. However, I did video tape the lesson to work on at home because it looked like a lot of helpful stuff to practice. Meanwhile, the followers were inside working on their slow and sassy.
All in all, it was a great day of classes. Certainly not your basic lindy workshop and not anything crazily impossible and full of itself like some jazz classes can seem to outsiders; it was just dancers playing around with new ideas - Granted, all very much younger than me (in their twenties) but that didn’t matter at all.
I did secretly wish the only person there who was my age wasn’t that “Jay Peterman dude who kicks everyone all the time hard enough to leave big bruises.” Still, it motivated me to be a good example for their parent’s generation… lol. For the record, learning solo jazz did nothing to get JP to dance smaller. Happily, he only threw his follows (who didn’t actively kick when they hit) into me twice, so it’s all good… unless you were Beth or Sharon’s (or others') shins.
Saturday night’s dance featured The Baby Soda Jazz Band and they were awesome. I can't imagine having access to bands like this in my home town (or state). Heck, this whole weekend was really making me miss my old home in NY.
There were at most 100 dancers in the room and again, all the instructors were dancing with everyone. One of the coolest things was when I started doing some solo stuff in the corner at one point Sharon and a few others nearby just smiled or did anything that gave me a sense of being judged or feeling incompetent. It was just me playing around with the music using my fledging "baby steps towards solo jazz".
After the main dance wound down it was back to the Lindy Compound for another late night. I found my comfy couch amongst the social folks. Craig Sparks joked that Juan beating him in Mortal Combat opened up a whole new arena of things for him to feel inferior to Juan about. Meanwhile, I found myself chatting with Sharon and listening to stories of her last year or two of travels, dancing, music and life in general and suddenly 3 hours had gone by. Yeah, choosing the intimate setting of Stompology over a larger camp was a great idea that gave me time to catch up with friends who are usually busy working at other events. In fact, I learned that in Asia there's usually a schedule of who'll get to dance with the instructors in what order for every song of every dance and if you're not # such and such on the list by the start of the weekend, you're locked out. "Next up, dancer #36; on deck, #37, wait over here please..."
Although we didn't get much sleep, Sunday morning we were all on our way to classes saying it was too bad they didn't start earlier. As an aside, Greg Sparks and my house buddies who stopped so I could get coffee are the most awesome bunch of guys ever. Apparently, there is an unspoken of conspiracy to only house me with non-coffee drinkers for someone's twisted amusement.
Our first class was working on a fusion routine with Bethany Powell set to "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" by Rose Murphy. Her teaching/dance style was a bit different from what I was used to and while her class was fun and challenging, I personally didn’t completely love it the way I had everything earlier. Maybe because it was pushing me even further away from my comfort when I was hoping for a little anchor to things I knew. Still a fun class and it was my first time stringing together jazz steps (as eights and some of them tried for the first time) into a routine, which went much better than I expected. A very nice confidence builder.
Ballin' the Jack. Ballin' the Jack as a dance and a popular tune has its roots stretching back to the 1910s, and headline dancers were performing their interpretations of it well into the 1950s (Judy Garland and Gene Kelly in the 1942 film For Me & My Gal, Dean Martin in That's My Boy in 1951, and even Danny Kaye in On The Riviera in 1951). This was Juan and Sharon teaching us their version and somehow I was rocking it. Completely fun, a bit campy and over the top, and a great way for the instructors to pass along a lot of things to work on, like Juan sharing the secrets of how he spins. Also, to hear them speak about how they worked out things themselves as they learned it.
Soft Shoe. This tap class was inspired by Frankie Manning's son, tap dancer extraordinaire, Chazz Young. Yay for tap. Fun, fun, fun. I was amazed at what a large percentage of people took this class as if it were just any other and how well we all did. There was no sense of, “oh, I don’t do that tap stuff.” Falty is awesome as an instructor, so it just flowed and my feet did it... most of it... and he pointed out, if you really felt like you had it all down, just do it on the other side and you had twice the amount of the lesson for the price you paid.
The last class of the weekend was Falty, Sharon, Juan, and Bethany dividing the group into 4 groups and taking us into corners of the room and giving us 5 minute mini-lessons that were some of the most important and telling things of the weekend. Juan talking about physical conditioning and sharing exercises to strengthen muscles to do what he does; Sharon sharing how to get into and out of some of the moves she does and the illusion of things, Falty getting us thinking of tap and Bethany answering questions about motivations and creativity. It was unexpectedly revealing and I felt like I’d stepped back stage to learn tons of secrets that may have taken me a decade or 2 to master.
Sunday night I ended up getting stranded at the airport with no ride home due to bad weather in DC so I drove back to the after party, which turned out to be a wonderful stroke of luck. What an amazing gathering. Locals, all the instructors and some stragglers hanging out at a parent’s house, grilling, socializing, eating, gathering around a piano to play and sing old songs and then curling up outdoors to watch vintage black and white film clips on an old projector before gathering in the kitchen to share more stories about dancing in Asia and other far off corners of the world. A magical evening.
A few hours later I was on a plane back to Virginia, thoroughly convinced I’d return next year and happy that this time I'd have an entire year to prepare. Who knows what I’ll be able to do with all that time? However, Gabrielle Kern's T-shirt from the weekend, "One time I rocked it so hard I killed a man" does pop into mind.
Truth be told, as I was pushing open the door, I didn’t know what to expect. Would I walk in and see everyone dancing solo or dancing in lots of Charleston or tap jam circles? But there nothing unusual here; just a very friendly group of solid dancers with good musicality dancing to unexpectedly great music from a local band all night. Even better, all the instructors were right there dancing with anyone who asked (even lowly me who truthfully, didn't recognize instructor Bethany Powell when I asked). Heck, with all the familiar faces it made me feel like a small Swing out New Hampshire camp reunion. It was an incredibly fun (but warm) dance with few people sitting any out.
The highlight for me was about 30 minutes in when I asked Sharon to dance and, as the song was winding down, I realized the ending would be perfect to try Juan’s cute hook slide I’d stolen from Scram (or thought I had and would just have to find out). So, I set it up and nailed it perfectly only to feel an odd bump that left me thinking I’d screwed it up until I realized it was Sharon draping herself onto my side as she’d done in their routine and we both cracked up. Yup, 6 months of “what if?” day dream thoughts and it played out perfectly 30 minutes into the weekend. Of course, friends immediately joked, “Should we hand you your keys and you can drive home now having fulfilled your goal?” Instead, I beamed sheer joy and followed it up with my of my most enjoyable dances ever with Mike the girl. This weekend was going to be awesome!
Afterwards we were off the famed “Lindy Compound” for the late night, a fabled venue no one in our car had been to before. We all agreed the name conjured up images of Waco, Texas and we joked that we expected to find out buildings where follows in home sewn clothing communally raised the next generation of lindy hoppers. In truth, it was a house party in a home that was nicely decorated for, and by, dancers with enough space for any event they’d want to throw. As an aside, Sharon Davis was in the kitchen whipping up a quick little something. Yeah, add some cooking ability to the gal’s impressive list of skills.
I’ll admit, I was pretty fried so I found a very comfy couch after schmoozing and grabbing food in the kitchen and drifted in and out over the next couple hours to the sounds of dancing, merriment, and Juan Villafane giving out beatings on the home made arcade game in the corner. It was awesome to be at a house party where people all bring something and its real food, not just 30 different brands of chips and generic salsa.
Saturday morning brought the classes. Unfortunately the room temperature was too hot, but we just affectionately named the room the “Stompology Sweatlodge” and carried on in best NYS Indian nation tradition.
Struttin' & Cakewalkin' with Juan - Learn how to strut, kick and cakewalk like the great Nyas Berry of the Berry Brothers! The material was just different and physically challenging enough to really get us working hard and having a heck of a good time. It also gave you a good idea about the physical conditioning, dedication and historical accuracy Juan brings to his dancing. It was inspiring.
Fred & Ginger with Falty and Bethany - a class inspired by the ultimate in classic dance couples. Where Juan’s class worked us out, this one offered refinement and light, playful footwork. My tap really came in handy here and I came away vowing to watch all of Fred and Ginger’s movies.
Beatniks - Learn Sharon's fun new Beatnik jazz routine, with hot jazz and charleston steps given a Bop vibe. Sip an espresso, don your black turtleneck and beret, and come join the Beat generation. Bongos and beat poetry at the late night party. Words are almost insufficient. It’s Sharon Davis, my main dance crush, being silly and creative and teaching us completely off the wall stuff that still worked and got us thinking and moving in new ways. Plus, this time I’m taking her class without pneumonia in a weekend where I'm holding my own with everyone else in the place..
For the fellas: 50's Style Savoy Applejacks. This was an outdoor class late in the afternoon and I’ll admit I was too tired and unwilling to risk my knees dancing on the somewhat uneven grass. However, I did video tape the lesson to work on at home because it looked like a lot of helpful stuff to practice. Meanwhile, the followers were inside working on their slow and sassy.
All in all, it was a great day of classes. Certainly not your basic lindy workshop and not anything crazily impossible and full of itself like some jazz classes can seem to outsiders; it was just dancers playing around with new ideas - Granted, all very much younger than me (in their twenties) but that didn’t matter at all.
I did secretly wish the only person there who was my age wasn’t that “Jay Peterman dude who kicks everyone all the time hard enough to leave big bruises.” Still, it motivated me to be a good example for their parent’s generation… lol. For the record, learning solo jazz did nothing to get JP to dance smaller. Happily, he only threw his follows (who didn’t actively kick when they hit) into me twice, so it’s all good… unless you were Beth or Sharon’s (or others') shins.
Saturday night’s dance featured The Baby Soda Jazz Band and they were awesome. I can't imagine having access to bands like this in my home town (or state). Heck, this whole weekend was really making me miss my old home in NY.
There were at most 100 dancers in the room and again, all the instructors were dancing with everyone. One of the coolest things was when I started doing some solo stuff in the corner at one point Sharon and a few others nearby just smiled or did anything that gave me a sense of being judged or feeling incompetent. It was just me playing around with the music using my fledging "baby steps towards solo jazz".
After the main dance wound down it was back to the Lindy Compound for another late night. I found my comfy couch amongst the social folks. Craig Sparks joked that Juan beating him in Mortal Combat opened up a whole new arena of things for him to feel inferior to Juan about. Meanwhile, I found myself chatting with Sharon and listening to stories of her last year or two of travels, dancing, music and life in general and suddenly 3 hours had gone by. Yeah, choosing the intimate setting of Stompology over a larger camp was a great idea that gave me time to catch up with friends who are usually busy working at other events. In fact, I learned that in Asia there's usually a schedule of who'll get to dance with the instructors in what order for every song of every dance and if you're not # such and such on the list by the start of the weekend, you're locked out. "Next up, dancer #36; on deck, #37, wait over here please..."
Although we didn't get much sleep, Sunday morning we were all on our way to classes saying it was too bad they didn't start earlier. As an aside, Greg Sparks and my house buddies who stopped so I could get coffee are the most awesome bunch of guys ever. Apparently, there is an unspoken of conspiracy to only house me with non-coffee drinkers for someone's twisted amusement.
Our first class was working on a fusion routine with Bethany Powell set to "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" by Rose Murphy. Her teaching/dance style was a bit different from what I was used to and while her class was fun and challenging, I personally didn’t completely love it the way I had everything earlier. Maybe because it was pushing me even further away from my comfort when I was hoping for a little anchor to things I knew. Still a fun class and it was my first time stringing together jazz steps (as eights and some of them tried for the first time) into a routine, which went much better than I expected. A very nice confidence builder.
Ballin' the Jack. Ballin' the Jack as a dance and a popular tune has its roots stretching back to the 1910s, and headline dancers were performing their interpretations of it well into the 1950s (Judy Garland and Gene Kelly in the 1942 film For Me & My Gal, Dean Martin in That's My Boy in 1951, and even Danny Kaye in On The Riviera in 1951). This was Juan and Sharon teaching us their version and somehow I was rocking it. Completely fun, a bit campy and over the top, and a great way for the instructors to pass along a lot of things to work on, like Juan sharing the secrets of how he spins. Also, to hear them speak about how they worked out things themselves as they learned it.
Soft Shoe. This tap class was inspired by Frankie Manning's son, tap dancer extraordinaire, Chazz Young. Yay for tap. Fun, fun, fun. I was amazed at what a large percentage of people took this class as if it were just any other and how well we all did. There was no sense of, “oh, I don’t do that tap stuff.” Falty is awesome as an instructor, so it just flowed and my feet did it... most of it... and he pointed out, if you really felt like you had it all down, just do it on the other side and you had twice the amount of the lesson for the price you paid.
The last class of the weekend was Falty, Sharon, Juan, and Bethany dividing the group into 4 groups and taking us into corners of the room and giving us 5 minute mini-lessons that were some of the most important and telling things of the weekend. Juan talking about physical conditioning and sharing exercises to strengthen muscles to do what he does; Sharon sharing how to get into and out of some of the moves she does and the illusion of things, Falty getting us thinking of tap and Bethany answering questions about motivations and creativity. It was unexpectedly revealing and I felt like I’d stepped back stage to learn tons of secrets that may have taken me a decade or 2 to master.
Sunday night I ended up getting stranded at the airport with no ride home due to bad weather in DC so I drove back to the after party, which turned out to be a wonderful stroke of luck. What an amazing gathering. Locals, all the instructors and some stragglers hanging out at a parent’s house, grilling, socializing, eating, gathering around a piano to play and sing old songs and then curling up outdoors to watch vintage black and white film clips on an old projector before gathering in the kitchen to share more stories about dancing in Asia and other far off corners of the world. A magical evening.
A few hours later I was on a plane back to Virginia, thoroughly convinced I’d return next year and happy that this time I'd have an entire year to prepare. Who knows what I’ll be able to do with all that time? However, Gabrielle Kern's T-shirt from the weekend, "One time I rocked it so hard I killed a man" does pop into mind.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Stompology (or “MTV Made: I want to be a Jazz Dancer”) - part 1
This note is for friends who asked me to summarize my Stompology experience. It was funny seeing their expressions as they found polite ways to disguise the thought, "Bill is my dad's age, only much bigger, so if HE can do it, I'm sure I'd be okay. If Bill survives, maybe I'll go next year." Yup, this is the writings of the "Every Man" dancer entering a fabled land of semi-legend.
Starting at the beginning, last November I watched Sharon Davis and Juan Villafane’s choreography for Fats Waller’s “Scram” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsYYHvaMIGA
and was instantly inspired to become a better dancer… or more correctly, re-define myself as a dancer and not just a DJ/organizer who dances a few songs during any weekend.
Looking at their travel schedule I knew I had only 2 opportunities to take classes with them in North America this year: Lindy Focus with several hundred people and a level system that hadn’t been kind to me in the past or the more intimate Stompology in Rochester, which annually drew about 80 dancers.
I selected the smaller workshop, knowing it would force me to work hard to not look like a fish out of water. This presented an immediate problem. Stompology bills itself as an “Authentic Solo Jazz Dance workshop weekend”, which several friends politely pointed out wasn’t exactly my thing. This was made more daunting by the fact that the local dance community is tight, extremely dedicated, and has a seemingly high percentage of more advanced dancers… so “Stompo” definitely came with a certain, almost daunting, mystique about it.
In fact, I called a friend in Rochester and flat out asked, “Is it okay if I know practically nothing about jazz steps, just flat out suck and hide in the back corner all weekend?” Michelle Long’s answer was a cheerful, “Absolutely! It's solo movement so you wouldn’t be holding anyone back and we’d love to see you here.” I replied, “No, I’m talking really suck; like, wear a name badge saying, “My name is Comic Relief” bad”; but she assured me this apparently was still not a problem. As a precaution I called a few other people and asked the same thing and they talked me into purchasing a plane ticket and registering before I could back out. I was committed.
Next came the hard part…
Thanks to discussions with Mike the girl and research into nutrition I realized my vegetarian diet had been severely protein deficient for at least a year. This was probably largely responsible for the chronic aches, pains and tendon/joint problems that had me DJ’ing more than dancing. Plus there was my weight. If I was to have any chance of doing jazz movement it meant dropping at least 40 pounds.
Thanks to P90X and the old Stompology magnet on my refrigerator door I lost 42 over the next 3 months. I was a completely new me who felt 20 years younger and had a renewed joy for dancing, especially to a new range of songs 40-60 beats per minute faster than what I was used to. I ordered a copy of Sharon’s Solo Charleston, Jazz & Blues Instructional DVD and started practicing that. http://www.sharondavis.com.au/?page_id=679
I also made the mistake of asking Sharon what I should study before the workshop and received back a daunting doctoral level 2 page study sheet I won’t be able to finish before I die (she later apologized for possibly overwhelming me). But after a month crushed under the dread of over-blown expectations, I finally decided a successful Stompology for me was going to mean deciding I liked myself enough to dare being creative and trying dancing solo; everyone has to start somewhere and that was probably a good place.
So, with the pressure of expectations lifted, I studied and learned the Stompology stompoff. One thing I immediately noticed, by having studied and practiced jazz steps ahead of time I began thinking of the full eight counts of movement as a single idea, not 8 separate steps to remember. This redefined the whole process and opened up all sorts of doors for learning choreography because there was now far less to remember!
Starting at the beginning, last November I watched Sharon Davis and Juan Villafane’s choreography for Fats Waller’s “Scram” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsYYHvaMIGA
and was instantly inspired to become a better dancer… or more correctly, re-define myself as a dancer and not just a DJ/organizer who dances a few songs during any weekend.
Looking at their travel schedule I knew I had only 2 opportunities to take classes with them in North America this year: Lindy Focus with several hundred people and a level system that hadn’t been kind to me in the past or the more intimate Stompology in Rochester, which annually drew about 80 dancers.
I selected the smaller workshop, knowing it would force me to work hard to not look like a fish out of water. This presented an immediate problem. Stompology bills itself as an “Authentic Solo Jazz Dance workshop weekend”, which several friends politely pointed out wasn’t exactly my thing. This was made more daunting by the fact that the local dance community is tight, extremely dedicated, and has a seemingly high percentage of more advanced dancers… so “Stompo” definitely came with a certain, almost daunting, mystique about it.
In fact, I called a friend in Rochester and flat out asked, “Is it okay if I know practically nothing about jazz steps, just flat out suck and hide in the back corner all weekend?” Michelle Long’s answer was a cheerful, “Absolutely! It's solo movement so you wouldn’t be holding anyone back and we’d love to see you here.” I replied, “No, I’m talking really suck; like, wear a name badge saying, “My name is Comic Relief” bad”; but she assured me this apparently was still not a problem. As a precaution I called a few other people and asked the same thing and they talked me into purchasing a plane ticket and registering before I could back out. I was committed.
Next came the hard part…
Thanks to discussions with Mike the girl and research into nutrition I realized my vegetarian diet had been severely protein deficient for at least a year. This was probably largely responsible for the chronic aches, pains and tendon/joint problems that had me DJ’ing more than dancing. Plus there was my weight. If I was to have any chance of doing jazz movement it meant dropping at least 40 pounds.
Thanks to P90X and the old Stompology magnet on my refrigerator door I lost 42 over the next 3 months. I was a completely new me who felt 20 years younger and had a renewed joy for dancing, especially to a new range of songs 40-60 beats per minute faster than what I was used to. I ordered a copy of Sharon’s Solo Charleston, Jazz & Blues Instructional DVD and started practicing that. http://www.sharondavis.com.au/?page_id=679
I also made the mistake of asking Sharon what I should study before the workshop and received back a daunting doctoral level 2 page study sheet I won’t be able to finish before I die (she later apologized for possibly overwhelming me). But after a month crushed under the dread of over-blown expectations, I finally decided a successful Stompology for me was going to mean deciding I liked myself enough to dare being creative and trying dancing solo; everyone has to start somewhere and that was probably a good place.
So, with the pressure of expectations lifted, I studied and learned the Stompology stompoff. One thing I immediately noticed, by having studied and practiced jazz steps ahead of time I began thinking of the full eight counts of movement as a single idea, not 8 separate steps to remember. This redefined the whole process and opened up all sorts of doors for learning choreography because there was now far less to remember!
Friday, April 2, 2010
Sharon Davis's Suggestions for Fundamental Steps to Study
Hmm, here are the lists of what I teach on my jazz/charleston DVD, and I guess I think of these as being all the fundamentals. If you know all these moves, then you've pretty much got a handle on it:
1920s Charleston Basics
1. The Charleston Basic
2. Arm Styles
3. Moving forwards
4. Moving backwards
5. Stay on one side
6. Tap around
7. Half turn
8. Lock turn
9. Front leg styles
10. Rear leg styles
11. Windmills
12. Chugs
13. Breaks
14. Scarecrow Charleston
15. Round the World Charleston
16. Squat Charleston
17. Jump Charleston
18. Knee Illusions
19. Pushes & Knee Slaps
20. Shoe Shines
21. Blackbottom
Vintage Jazz Dance Basics
1. The Messaround
2. Hip Swings
3. Pecking
4. Swivels
5. Rusty Dusty
6. Grapevine
7. Iceskating
8. Smack the Baby
9. Crazy Legs
10. Slip Slops
11. Run on the Log
12. Boogits
13. Hangman
14. The Rock
15. Hot Potatoes
16. Boogie Drop
17. Fall Off The Log
18. Shim Sham
19. Gloria
20. Apple Jacks
21. Shorty George
22. Camel Walk
23. Suzie Q
24. Tacky Annie
25. Truckin'
26. Boogie Forwards
27. Boogie Back
28. Fishtails
29. Half Breaks
30. Broken Leg
31. Happy Feet
And then all the classic routines to know are: Frankie's Shim Sham Shimmy, the Trankey Doo, the Keep Punchin' Big Apple, the Al Minns & Leon James Shim Sham, maybe Steven Mitchell's Jitterbug Stroll? haha
And watch the first section of the Spirit Moves, plus the Al Minns and Leon James interviews with Marshall Stearns in the 60s.
Then if you want names to look up on YouTube:
Hal Leroy
The Nicholas Brothers
Berry Brothers (particularly Nyas Berry)
Al Morgan
Earl Snakehips Tucker
Bill Bojangles Robinson
Fred Astaire
Gene Kelly
Bill Bailey
Sammy Davis Jnr
Buck & Bubbles
Cab Calloway
The Four Flash Devils
The Clark Brothers
Daniel L Haynes
Rubberneck Holmes
The Three Chefs
Patterson & Jackson
Tip Tap & Toe
The Condos Brothers
Al Minns
Leon James
Cholly Atkins & Honi Coles
The Four Step Brothers
The Three Sparks of Rhythm
Jimmy Slyde
Donald O’Connor
The Wiere Brothers
The Four Hot Shots
Tops & Wilder
Red & Struggs
Stump & Stumpy
Leonard Reed
Hope that helps!
Got all that? lol"
Sharon's wonderful DVD is available by clicking here:
Saturday, March 13, 2010
A field hand's thoughts about the blues when its too wet to plow
Stepping away from my laptop and headphones after almost 4 years, I suddenly feel a lot like Rip Van Winkle being forced to wake up from a long, pleasant dream.
Although my profession was rated as one of the most in demand when I racked up a mountain of student loan debt earning a landscape architecture degree in 2003, today I find LA’s working as cashiers in Trader Joes, collecting unemployment waiting for things to improve, or in my case, bent over in a nursery field alongside Mexican farm hands to be able to buy another tank of heating oil to get Patty and I through to spring. For the first time in my life I fully understand the phrases, “cold as a three dog night” and “ain’t no shame in an honest day’s work.”
One thing about picking and hauling 8 hours a day-- it certainly gives you a lot of time to listen to those around you, redefine hardship, and gain a new perspective on life. Robert Johnson once sang, “I’ve got stones in my pass’way and my road seems dark at night; the pains in my heart have taken my appetite.” If he were around today, I doubt he’d be singing about his Tapas being cold, his Kindle battery being as low as the equity of his stock portfolio or being trapped in the Frequent Flyer’s lounge waiting for his connecting flight to another big blues event.
As Patty, who’s been driving 10 hours back to NY on her weekends off to care for her sick brother recently said, “Nobody under the age of 45 should be allowed to sing the blues.” Of course, she also sends me off to work in the morning saying, “The Lord loves a working man, don't trust whitey”, which is a whole ‘nuther discussion.
Anyway, I’ve come to realize I’ve been blessed over the last few years. When I started DJ’ing 4 years ago I had no idea how people would react to the blues that had been moving me for 15+ years. Nobody was playing anything like it on this coast and it was very different from the 2 dozen “standards” people were posting on their set lists and online discussion boards. Heck, I wasn’t a self-identifying “blues dancer” so I had no idea HOW people would want to move to what I was playing, I only hoped they would. Thankfully, I had the good fortune to be sharing music I loved in a musical vacuum that wanted to be filled.
Over the years, I met a whole slew of wonderful people who welcomed and supported me, which in turn inspired me to most enjoy moments when I could put on my “the Great Facilitator Hat” or be a mentor to others. I’ve greatly enjoyed helping weave the fabric of dance on the east coast and introduce organizers, musicians and DJ’s to each other for a common goal.
Yet, I still have to laugh a little when I hear discussions about “the integrity of the dance” or “being true to the blues aesthetic.” My response has always been, “I’m an old man dancing with a girl young enough to be my daughter, and who weighs half as much as I do-- nobody gives a rat’s ass about my aesthetic. I just try to clearly and respectfully communicate something I hear in the music and listen to what my partner is saying back.
In any case, it appears, due to economic realities, my wonderful luxury of spending countless hours a day searching for music, putting people in touch to help foster new and upcoming organizers, DJ’s and events, is a thing of the past.
So, I will share one final tidbit of advice that I’ve learned since stepping away from my headphones and laptop--
The blues isn't about aesthetics or learning footwork, finding that partner who’ll help you win a competition, flying in someone you don't know to teach a workshop just to get on his radar and maybe invited to his big event, or stealing a DJ gig away from that guy you hate so you’ll be the one amongst the “in crowd”, or even just about labeling yourself a “blues dancer.” That's why there's a "disconnect" between today's contemporary "dancers" and those who worked hard at other things and danced in those rare moments when they could.
The blues is a celebration that after 6 days laboring for another man’s gain and listening to him tell you how fast to move and how high to jump, you can gussy up, ask a woman to dance, and move to music in any way you choose to, just for the pure joy of it.
The blues is about struggling to not give up… and winning.
Although my profession was rated as one of the most in demand when I racked up a mountain of student loan debt earning a landscape architecture degree in 2003, today I find LA’s working as cashiers in Trader Joes, collecting unemployment waiting for things to improve, or in my case, bent over in a nursery field alongside Mexican farm hands to be able to buy another tank of heating oil to get Patty and I through to spring. For the first time in my life I fully understand the phrases, “cold as a three dog night” and “ain’t no shame in an honest day’s work.”
One thing about picking and hauling 8 hours a day-- it certainly gives you a lot of time to listen to those around you, redefine hardship, and gain a new perspective on life. Robert Johnson once sang, “I’ve got stones in my pass’way and my road seems dark at night; the pains in my heart have taken my appetite.” If he were around today, I doubt he’d be singing about his Tapas being cold, his Kindle battery being as low as the equity of his stock portfolio or being trapped in the Frequent Flyer’s lounge waiting for his connecting flight to another big blues event.
As Patty, who’s been driving 10 hours back to NY on her weekends off to care for her sick brother recently said, “Nobody under the age of 45 should be allowed to sing the blues.” Of course, she also sends me off to work in the morning saying, “The Lord loves a working man, don't trust whitey”, which is a whole ‘nuther discussion.
Anyway, I’ve come to realize I’ve been blessed over the last few years. When I started DJ’ing 4 years ago I had no idea how people would react to the blues that had been moving me for 15+ years. Nobody was playing anything like it on this coast and it was very different from the 2 dozen “standards” people were posting on their set lists and online discussion boards. Heck, I wasn’t a self-identifying “blues dancer” so I had no idea HOW people would want to move to what I was playing, I only hoped they would. Thankfully, I had the good fortune to be sharing music I loved in a musical vacuum that wanted to be filled.
Over the years, I met a whole slew of wonderful people who welcomed and supported me, which in turn inspired me to most enjoy moments when I could put on my “the Great Facilitator Hat” or be a mentor to others. I’ve greatly enjoyed helping weave the fabric of dance on the east coast and introduce organizers, musicians and DJ’s to each other for a common goal.
Yet, I still have to laugh a little when I hear discussions about “the integrity of the dance” or “being true to the blues aesthetic.” My response has always been, “I’m an old man dancing with a girl young enough to be my daughter, and who weighs half as much as I do-- nobody gives a rat’s ass about my aesthetic. I just try to clearly and respectfully communicate something I hear in the music and listen to what my partner is saying back.
In any case, it appears, due to economic realities, my wonderful luxury of spending countless hours a day searching for music, putting people in touch to help foster new and upcoming organizers, DJ’s and events, is a thing of the past.
So, I will share one final tidbit of advice that I’ve learned since stepping away from my headphones and laptop--
The blues isn't about aesthetics or learning footwork, finding that partner who’ll help you win a competition, flying in someone you don't know to teach a workshop just to get on his radar and maybe invited to his big event, or stealing a DJ gig away from that guy you hate so you’ll be the one amongst the “in crowd”, or even just about labeling yourself a “blues dancer.” That's why there's a "disconnect" between today's contemporary "dancers" and those who worked hard at other things and danced in those rare moments when they could.
The blues is a celebration that after 6 days laboring for another man’s gain and listening to him tell you how fast to move and how high to jump, you can gussy up, ask a woman to dance, and move to music in any way you choose to, just for the pure joy of it.
The blues is about struggling to not give up… and winning.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
The importance of Names Within the Culture of Dance
One of the most helpful lessons I learned from mentoring was to choose words that communicate descriptively or speak the true names of things.
We’ve all heard people say, “This band or DJ sucks”, but that doesn’t provide any information that an empty dance floor isn’t already revealing. By contrast, when a friend asks, “Can you listen to my set and give me your honest opinion?” you’re forced to rise above easy subjective labels or snap judgments.
I’ve recently read several notes about “dance scene culture” and asking what contribution individuals are making to keep their local scenes vibrant. I was reminded of Chris Crawford once describing the southeastern Virginia dance scene as “not so much a dance scene as, more correctly, a social group, like a fraternity or sorority, where people interact and may dance 3 or 4 times on any night.” At the time, I felt the statement was extremely negative; however, I’ve recently realized it isn’t necessarily judgmental.
Here’s the crux (says the person who embraces being called a music snob): is a weekly dance for 40 people who favor a mix of novelty tunes, hard bop, early rock and roll, straight jazz, contemporary R&B/disco and slow ballads any better or worse than a scene of 40 lindy hoppers? Absolutely not… it’s just a different culture. However, the trouble starts when people incorrectly label this a swing or lindy dance... or when "Willow Weep For Me", slow crooner ballads and west coast standards are called blues just because they're tempo is slower than what is played at lindy dances.
In fact, there would be far less confusion or frustration if organizers were knowledgeable enough to communicate, “Our culture is to play easily accessible, cute music that amuses and makes new dancers feel comfortable, even if it’s not swing. It doesn’t matter if songs are in laid back straight time (as opposed to swing time) that make dancers want to roll their centers of gravity back over the heels with their weight split and just chill. Our goal is to just get bodies in the room and on the floor for a couple songs and we’ll get around to teaching them the mechanics later.”
There’s power in words, in names… and in music. When I was growing up listening to my Beatles records, my dad would yell at me to turn that noise down till the point where I’d hear his Tommy Dorsey in the background and then get a lesson on why Big Band Swing was real music. My dad used to say, “I have to wonder what music you’re going to be listening to when you’re my age; certainly not that crap!”
Dad and I didn’t get along very well for about 15 years until I started DJ’ing swing music and we found a common ground by talking about his favorite artists, with words that meant something to him. We suddenly enjoyed talking about who was playing trombone or when something was recorded and he’d share stories about what was going on at that time that gave the music context. So, at my dad’s age, I’m now listening to his music and when I hear a DJ or band play a Beatles song at a swing dance, I hear his voice calling it crap.
Speaking of words that matter, consider the DJ. When I first started dancing, our local scene used to announce who would be DJing that week, which meant sometimes the dance was packed and sometimes it was sparse because some people were playing for dancers and others were playing music for the social club that Chris Crawford described. Rather than analyzing why some DJ’s made you pack 3 extra shirts and left your worn out at the end of the night, a decision was made to stop announcing the DJ’s so everyone got the same attendance and there were no longer any crowd favorites. Now anyone with a laptop is able to come down and play music they want to share. But again, words are important… there’s a difference between an LO (laptop owner) with a collection of songs and a DJ, who has a skill at shaping the rhythm of a dance and taking dancers on a musical journey. Again, the music snob says, if you’re comfortable with LO’s and you want a mix of easily accessible music that crosses genres, why not just put an iPod on shuffle?
Similarly, just because a local marketing group is promoting a musician “as swing or blues you can dance to for free” doesn’t mean you should necessarily call it a swing dance or a lindy bomb. It’s been said that some people will dance to the rhythm of their windshield wipers on the car; which is the perfect definition of straight time… 1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2. There’s nothing swinging about that, even though you could do swingouts to it. It seems to me that those who call themselves dance instructors have an obligation to teach an understanding of straight time vs. swing time because it’s the easiest thing in the world to look at a dancer’s posture and say he’s moving in straight time and he’s swinging!
That's not to say I'm not in favor of live music; in fact, I'm frequently asked why I'm so vocal about encouraging road trips and supporting professional musicians who play swing music. The truth is, Lady Gaga or Timbaland aren't going to go broke if their music isn't played at one or two swing dances a month. However, getting 4 or 5 friends out to see Solomon Douglas, Glenn Crytzer, the Blue Vipers of Brooklyn or Acme Swing Manufacturing might mean money for a tank of gas that get's them to their next show... and makes them more likely to come back again.
Anyway, that’s how this music snob sees it. Knowing the terminology and names of things are vital to creating a culture that balances the enthusiasm of the new dancer who wants to learn aerials and dance big with the subtlety of the experienced dancer who has a greater appreciation for music that is more traditional and contextually relevant. Both elements are vital for a scene to survive and grow-- but without the ability to speak a shared musical language with the correct words, there’s no way to bridge that gap and you’re left with only, “this music sucks.”
In truth, if you’re going to use incorrect terminology you’re probably better off just calling a dance a kumquat because there’s no frustrating confusion of terms and it’s a darned amusing word all by itself.
We’ve all heard people say, “This band or DJ sucks”, but that doesn’t provide any information that an empty dance floor isn’t already revealing. By contrast, when a friend asks, “Can you listen to my set and give me your honest opinion?” you’re forced to rise above easy subjective labels or snap judgments.
I’ve recently read several notes about “dance scene culture” and asking what contribution individuals are making to keep their local scenes vibrant. I was reminded of Chris Crawford once describing the southeastern Virginia dance scene as “not so much a dance scene as, more correctly, a social group, like a fraternity or sorority, where people interact and may dance 3 or 4 times on any night.” At the time, I felt the statement was extremely negative; however, I’ve recently realized it isn’t necessarily judgmental.
Here’s the crux (says the person who embraces being called a music snob): is a weekly dance for 40 people who favor a mix of novelty tunes, hard bop, early rock and roll, straight jazz, contemporary R&B/disco and slow ballads any better or worse than a scene of 40 lindy hoppers? Absolutely not… it’s just a different culture. However, the trouble starts when people incorrectly label this a swing or lindy dance... or when "Willow Weep For Me", slow crooner ballads and west coast standards are called blues just because they're tempo is slower than what is played at lindy dances.
In fact, there would be far less confusion or frustration if organizers were knowledgeable enough to communicate, “Our culture is to play easily accessible, cute music that amuses and makes new dancers feel comfortable, even if it’s not swing. It doesn’t matter if songs are in laid back straight time (as opposed to swing time) that make dancers want to roll their centers of gravity back over the heels with their weight split and just chill. Our goal is to just get bodies in the room and on the floor for a couple songs and we’ll get around to teaching them the mechanics later.”
There’s power in words, in names… and in music. When I was growing up listening to my Beatles records, my dad would yell at me to turn that noise down till the point where I’d hear his Tommy Dorsey in the background and then get a lesson on why Big Band Swing was real music. My dad used to say, “I have to wonder what music you’re going to be listening to when you’re my age; certainly not that crap!”
Dad and I didn’t get along very well for about 15 years until I started DJ’ing swing music and we found a common ground by talking about his favorite artists, with words that meant something to him. We suddenly enjoyed talking about who was playing trombone or when something was recorded and he’d share stories about what was going on at that time that gave the music context. So, at my dad’s age, I’m now listening to his music and when I hear a DJ or band play a Beatles song at a swing dance, I hear his voice calling it crap.
Speaking of words that matter, consider the DJ. When I first started dancing, our local scene used to announce who would be DJing that week, which meant sometimes the dance was packed and sometimes it was sparse because some people were playing for dancers and others were playing music for the social club that Chris Crawford described. Rather than analyzing why some DJ’s made you pack 3 extra shirts and left your worn out at the end of the night, a decision was made to stop announcing the DJ’s so everyone got the same attendance and there were no longer any crowd favorites. Now anyone with a laptop is able to come down and play music they want to share. But again, words are important… there’s a difference between an LO (laptop owner) with a collection of songs and a DJ, who has a skill at shaping the rhythm of a dance and taking dancers on a musical journey. Again, the music snob says, if you’re comfortable with LO’s and you want a mix of easily accessible music that crosses genres, why not just put an iPod on shuffle?
Similarly, just because a local marketing group is promoting a musician “as swing or blues you can dance to for free” doesn’t mean you should necessarily call it a swing dance or a lindy bomb. It’s been said that some people will dance to the rhythm of their windshield wipers on the car; which is the perfect definition of straight time… 1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2. There’s nothing swinging about that, even though you could do swingouts to it. It seems to me that those who call themselves dance instructors have an obligation to teach an understanding of straight time vs. swing time because it’s the easiest thing in the world to look at a dancer’s posture and say he’s moving in straight time and he’s swinging!
That's not to say I'm not in favor of live music; in fact, I'm frequently asked why I'm so vocal about encouraging road trips and supporting professional musicians who play swing music. The truth is, Lady Gaga or Timbaland aren't going to go broke if their music isn't played at one or two swing dances a month. However, getting 4 or 5 friends out to see Solomon Douglas, Glenn Crytzer, the Blue Vipers of Brooklyn or Acme Swing Manufacturing might mean money for a tank of gas that get's them to their next show... and makes them more likely to come back again.
Anyway, that’s how this music snob sees it. Knowing the terminology and names of things are vital to creating a culture that balances the enthusiasm of the new dancer who wants to learn aerials and dance big with the subtlety of the experienced dancer who has a greater appreciation for music that is more traditional and contextually relevant. Both elements are vital for a scene to survive and grow-- but without the ability to speak a shared musical language with the correct words, there’s no way to bridge that gap and you’re left with only, “this music sucks.”
In truth, if you’re going to use incorrect terminology you’re probably better off just calling a dance a kumquat because there’s no frustrating confusion of terms and it’s a darned amusing word all by itself.
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