While I hesitated to put that as my title, for obvious reasons, in the end, I just had to do it. Allow me to explain. Imagine that you have a skill: one that you've worked hard on, one that reflects your strengths, one that makes you feel accomplished and satisfied at the same time. Now imagine that you've been hired to use your skills, but not been given an opportunity to use that particular skill. You keep being given jobs that just don't quite let you use that skill. You can imagine the frustration. That frustration found release for me this weekend in Rochester.
There's a skill that some lindy hop leaders have. Usually it's leads who have danced for a long time, and/or trained under dancers like Steven and Virginie. That skill, gentlemen, is taking movement through your legs, through our arms, and to my hips. Which is where my skill comes in. I love few things as much in lindy hop as a dance that lets me give the leader real stretch. I don't mean leading the direction my hips are facing (I'm definitely not asking that you direct my swivels in swingout).
There's a continuum of stretch, and the places it goes. There's a level where there's no stretch asked for/given- when the leader and follower are nearly exactly in sync. That's a place I'd rather not go- but there are, of course, leads who lead that connection, so what's a girl to do? There are leads who have stretch that goes through the arms, maybe even the back. Here, you can see a lag, a separation- tension and compression happen. But then there's my favorite- when a leader can use his hips to use my hips. Straight up, it's just an advanced skill- you can't get this at most weekly lessons in most cities. So most leaders just can't do it.
[For my Philadelphia chickies, who may be thinking, "so why haven't you taught us this," let me point out that before I can guide you to the good stuff, you need to have really solid compression and tension stretching skills. Which is also hard to get. To be honest, I'd love to teach way more of this, but I think it's better taught with a lead and follow, so I'll keep bringing in out-of-towners (like Reuel, and Dan) to teach this stuff, and working on it as a lead. Meanwhile, go take classes from Steven and Virginie! Do it!]
I took the first three classes on Saturday as a lead, and man, I'll tell you- it's so hard being a leader imitating Steven. Don't get me wrong- it's incredibly hard to be a follow imitating Virginie, but at least that's my native language. I had a leader mention to me last night that he finds that learning dance is getting harder and harder- I told him that I think that means he's doing it right. Taking an intro to lindy hop from S+V reminded me that the more deeply you get into the dance, the less likely it is that a lesson will be "too easy." Trying to step into the movement of two advanced dancers, in one hour, is incredibly challenging- and hopefully, rewarding.
So I totally sympathize with leaders who haven't got the hips yet, but I also want to encourage you to keep at it. The social dancing at the Saturday late night was some of the most fun I've had with lindy in months. So keep on using me... until you use me up.
de duh, de-duh deeeeh duhdeeduhdee duh.
-m.
duh duh duh duh duh.
This is a double post- two blogs for the price of one!
1. On Thursday, I was robbed. Some scoundrel (or, as one theory holds, out of control self-replicating AI robot) broke into my car where I had foolishly hidden my laptop... complete with my firstmonth/lastmonth/security deposit for the next place, which was on its way to the bank to get deposited. In cash. Also in the bag: my fancy-shmancy new erasible gel pen, my external harddrive (where I keep all my music, image files, text files), my headphones, my chapstick (I love that brand, too), some travel receipts from BAB, and other miscellaneous items. Not to mention, the bag itself. Gah. But Philly, my true love of cities, rushed to my aid. Not one, but two rent parties happened over the next 56 hours, complete with a silent auction and dance marathon. Dance marathon? Why yes, dance marathon- people pledged $.10 to $1 for each song I could dance. Consecutively. Without a break. The final tally? (And I do mean tally) 45 songs. Whew! Philly made back a considerable amount of the money I lost (I won't be homeless after all!), and even provided a temporary laptop (I can keep working!). I simply can't say how grateful I am, and think that in most cities, I'd have been utterly without hope. But here, in the city of arts and commraderie, I'm back on my feet, back to a normal level of poverty (a place I'm strangely grateful for this month). If I had any doubts about Philly, they're totally gone. I owe this city more than cash- I owe it my sense of optimism, my love of people, and a very strong sense of community.
I love you guys!
2. With Love: A Portrait
There are few cities in the world quite as poetic, I think, as Philly. Not the pretentious, beatnik, in-love-with-its own ideas sort of poetry, but the poetry of folk musicians (the good ones), who write about love and mundanity. It's seven fifteen on a Monday night. After mistakenly showing up three days early (but otherwise right on time) for a private lesson, I found myself wandering through Rittenhouse Square. Rittenhouse, for those of you who don't know, is a park nestled in among the giant apartment buildings and skyscrapers of central Philadelphia. Allow me to share it with you.
Temperature: probably very close to 80 degrees. I'm not sweating (when I'm sitting still). The light is indirect, but still looks sunny- sunset is quietly setting istelf up for a show.
On the way into the park, along the sidewalk, lay a single black slipper. For those of you who don't yet own Carsie's new album, Buoy, you're missing the reference, but I'll fill you in, if you promise to get it. Speaking of a heartbroken lady: "Now she lives, out in Arizona, lonely as a single shoe." Sure, you see broken, dirty sneakers on the side of the interstate... but a pretty black slipper lost downtown... now I have a soundtrack in my mind.
The tiled fountain has an elevated section which spills over a wall into a large, 1' deep pool. Standing on that divider wall, the chlorinated water rushing over her burkinstocks, a woman makes conversation with a nearby father and son. Did I mention she's tethered to a giant, woolly dog, delightedly up to his belly in refreshment?
All around the center circle of pavement is a wall, and benches, where young people and artists sit and watch. A group of african drummers (plus one coronet player) are chanting and singing to a trio of girls who shyly toss coins into a pouch. Their father comes along, and next thing, an impromptu dance party has broken out. Another pair of dogs drip by- it seems Woolly's idea is catching on.
This is what so many cities doesn't get... the value of funding murals isn't that you have painted buildings, and the value of parks isn't just a photo for touristry brochures (although to two Asian girls getting their photo taken while perched atop a concrete frog is pretty priceless). The value of funding the arts is that you get centers of joy, community, and creation. Sure, there's a rat* hiding in the bushes across the walk, and yes, someone broke into my car, and I'm cranky about it. But this city holds so much more than streets and gutters and police. This city holds a space for growth. While as nature abhors a vaccuum, art loves a space. So keep your eye on Philly- musically, dancewise, and visually, good things happen here.
Epilogue
So here I am, sitting at Jon and Carsie's watching (occasionally jumping into) an advanced blues lesson (if you've never taken their classes, you absolutely should!), feeling utterly validated in my choice of home scenes, feeling thankful that I've landed in what, I think, is the best scene and city a gal could hope for.
Much love, many swingouts, and multiple murals,
-Mike
*a note about the rat. She's huge. Really, really huge. I mean, I kept rats for a while, and this lady is giant by well-fed standards. However, she's doing her darndest to stay well out the way (and reach) of humans. She's smart, and she's social. And frankly, everyone's got to make a living, right? She's cleaning up the garbage that disease-carrying humans leave. She's an undervalued garbage-lady. Who doesn't steal laptops. Scurry safely, little one. Scurry safely.
Being a teacher first, and organizer second, I will freely admit that my event-running is utterly biased. I just returned from the most successful Buenos Aires Blues we've had yet, and I'm proud to say that despite my own flaws and "learning experiences," the event went off beautifully. I chose, for a number of reason, to withhold class titles and descriptions from the site, and rather than leaving folks to think it was an oversight (although I had a few of those, of course), I wanted to explicate my reasoning.
There are occasions when I think that class titles/descriptions are not only justified, but required. The most obvious example, of course, is any workshop where a student has to choose between classes at the same time. Instead of only the dance form and instructor name, the class description allows students to create a curriculum that suits their weaknesses and strengths. Then, there are times when the class titles are not truly useful, but provide a feeling of security- for instance, at a beginners' workshop, or an intermediate workshop, with only one track. A basic, very vague topic is easy to stick to, while still providing the instructor with enough room to alter the class plan to fit the students' needs. (One class on technique, one class on musicality, one class on moves[aka technique 2], one class on solo dancing. Sound familiar?)
However, there are some situations where class titles are simply impractical, such as BAB. Before Friday night, there's no way to know just what the levels will be. The instructors are from all over the country, as are the students, and with tango and blues dancers in one track, it's hard to predict what skills students will bring. Likewise, once instructors have talked, face to face, about what material they're teaching, the classes influence each other. All of our instructors at BAB made changes to their class descriptions (which I didn't publish); some changes were minor, but others completely scratched their original topics. The classes they taught were perfect for the levels, and flowed together way better than I could have hoped for. However, if students had received class titles that promised other classes, we either would have had to stick to the original classes, or have lied to the students by publishing classes that didn't get taught.
In a sense, my decision not to publish class titles was a decision made by a dedicated teacher, who acknowledges being a terrible saleswoman. I knew ahead of time that class titles were a plan, from which we were free to deviate. I'm not insensitive to the fact that students want class titles- I like knowing what's coming, too. But I refuse to give my students a plan that doesn't mean anything, purely to make students feel like they knew what was coming. Essentially, I refuse to pationize you. This was my way of saying, "this workshop will be a collection of classes that make sense together, and flow from one to the next, by teachers I believe in. Trust in your teachers, show up, and we'll teach you what we think is best." Because that's what the student-teacher relationship comes down to. We ask our instructors to give us overall topics for a workshop or series, but after that, we ask them to do their best, and teach us what we need to know.
So thank you, to the instructors who put together a top-rate set of workshops, and especially to all the students who put their trust in the instructors this weekend. I may or may not publish class descriptions at various events in the future, but know that at the end of the day, my job is to make good dancers, and make people love dance, and I'll do everything I can to succeed at that, in the most honest way I can.
I'd starve as a politician. And that's from someone who eats Ramen now.
-Mike
I am struck, at moments, by the peculiar relationship between dancers and musicians. Personally, I'd rather dance to canned good music than live bad music. That being said, having a live band or musician who brings a good sound can move me in a way that surprises me every time. Likewise, there are some musicians who would prefer not to share a stage with dancers; an understandable hesitation, since dancers can be a distraction, and a musician's livelihood comes from being the center of attention at their shows. There are some musicians who are downright hostile to dancers even being in the crowd (including one band who gets djed very regularly). Then there are musicians who appreciate what dancers bring in the way of energy. And, finally, there are musicians who use dancers as another layer of art, and make something together with dancers. I recently had the honor to perform with some truly talented musicians recently, at the August Heritage Festival (link at bottom). Daryl Davis, Saffire (the Uppity Blues Women), and Fiona Boyes were kind enough to share their stage with us at the Blues Week concerts, and gave us more energy and fun than we knew what to do with. Who's "we"? Dan Rosenthal (formerly of Pittsburgh, now of Tampa Bay) was kind enough to take a week out of his life to be my "lovely and talented". In addition to helping me teach the classes, he also made performances possible, for which I am completely grateful. In addition to the rockin' tunes by the aforementioned super-talented musicians, we also requested a slow tune, and Joe Filisko (links at bottom) stepped up to the plate. We ran into Joe the day before the show, and he asked how slow we wanted: 60ish bpm would be great. He told us that, after seeing us over the course of the week, he had just the perfect song. The evening of the performance, Joe's first song was a fox-chase/train song combo. I couldn't see how the audience took it, but the pros backstage were leaning out of their seats, shaking their heads: impressed. Then Joe said something like, "for this next song, I'm stretching way out of my comfort zone; I've never done anything quite like this. That last song was easy," leaving the audience to chuckle, bewildered. From backstage, we heard Joe start a snap, or perhaps it was his foot on the stage. Then Joe played the most ghostly, hauntingly sweet and eerie tune I have ever had the honor of dancing to. Ranking right up there with Nina Simone's "Tell Me More and More and Then Some" (link at bottom), Joe's quiet, husky voice and the sweet, strange lyrics told a story of love, while the harmonica painted dark harmonies and juxtoposed intimacy with longing and loneliness. The name of the song, I have found, is "Need by Baby," by Big Walter Horton, and it normally sounds nothing like the way Joe did it that night. Making our way onstage, knowing that Joe was pushing himself artistically to create something with us, wrapping ourselves in character and dancing as the song itself... that will forever be one of my favorite memories of all time. Was our performance flawless? I don't remember, nor do I care. Dan's dancing was the best I've ever felt it. We had already decided to put in some things that were purely for the audience- some blues flash, and some a few bits of tango flash (if they fit, which they did). My feelings on that? Simple- we wanted to use any tools we had to move the audience: to create a visual for whatever it was that Joe was going to play. We wanted to show a room full of musicians what we as dancers feel and hear. It dawned on me, at some point during the song, that the audience was deathly quiet, in contrast to the rowdy cheers and hoots with previous performances. There wasn't any time to question it, but if I had, my answer would have been provided when the song ended. Joe finished his last note, and I get chillbumps remembering the instant transition from pin-drop silence to deafening explosion. I don't think I've ever been as proud and honored as I was that night. I cannot explain how absolutely grateful I am to Dan and Joe for giving me a chance to do what I love, and a shot at making art. Much Love, -Mike Ps: Links! Joe Filisko's HomepageJoe Performing at the National Harmonica LeagueNina Simone's "Tell Me More and More and Then Some" A typical performance of "Need My Baby"Augusta Heritage FestivalSaffire: The Uppity Blues WomenDaryl DavisFiona BoyesPps: If I get access to the video, and permission to post it, I'll do that. If I only get the video, I won't post it, but will have it, if you'd like to see it sometime. As of right now, I don't have either. Wish me luck!
After every audition, there are people who feel disappointed in their level placement. There are always questions, always appeals, and occasionally even tears. So to try and reduce the amount of sadness that follows auditions, I wanted to write a little about the reality of auditions/tracks, both from the perspective of a post-aha student and from the perspective of a teacher/judge.
First things first: the advanced level of a workshop is not Advanced. It's "the top x leads and follows who auditioned." Not making the top x students doesn't mean you're not advanced. Conversely, making the top x students doesn't mean that you are advanced. Next time I have resources allowing, I'm auditioning all student except total beginner, and calling them shoe, toolbox, windex, and candle. The different tracks, rather than serving as a global indicator of your dancing, give you an idea of where you are relative to the other students at that workshop. That is all.
Also, consider this: once your dancing gets past a certain point, people become delighted to discover you. You regularly get comments like, "that was awesome!" "you follow everything/everything you lead works" "you're so much fun!" That point is not the advanced student threshhold. It feels that way, I realize. Dancing suddenly works, people give you nothing but positive feedback... rainbows sing and puppies fly. I know. That's a really beautiful place. But it doesn't equal advanced. When (or if) it happens depends on the dancer, but please don't think it means anything about your level. And even if it did, remember my first point.
The judges are not amateurs. Before you decide that a judge simply can't tell how good your dancing is, consider this: dance instructors make their livings by learning to see dance. We have learned to diagnose connection issues visually. We can also see move choice, rhythm, posture, musicality, control, balance, and quality of movement. For follows, don't be fooled by the idea that if you only get average leads, we can't see you shine. A beautiful dancer will make simple movements shine- they have control, quality and richness of movement. A lesser dancer will lack the same control, even on nicely led fancy moves. Quality of movement matters, y'all- it's more than a style thing. For fun (by which I mean education), go watch the SYTYCD auditions on youtube. Not only can you pick out stronger dancers during the choreography, where everyone gets the same movements, but you can see on movements as simple as a step, or a hand gesture, during their solos. Go look! And then give your judges a little more credit.
On that note, leaders, what judges want to see at an audition are your.... basics. We want to see your fundamentals. We're not looking for which leaders have the fanciest moves. We're looking for solid leaders. And, might I mention, it would be nice to see the follows do their fundamentals, but that's reliant on you, boys.
When I was at Herrang in 07, I was sorely disappointed to be left out of Advanced I. But after a few days, it dawned on me. Yes, I had followed just fine. But the difference was that while Advanced II follows could follow everything, Advanced I follows made it look like art. And there, children, lies the rub- dancing is about more than just connection. At some point, very late in the learning process, the visuals matter. No, I don't care about your styling (yes, judges can see past styling to fundamentals). What I care about is that after you reach a certain point in connection, the sorting variable becomes about aesthetics, and taking you art past something purely social, and turning it into art. Don't lose the social- connection is always important- but on top of that, make it yours. Have control over every bit of your body (and control involves relaxation as well as engagement).
If at this point, you say to me, "But I don't care how my dancing looks- I only care about connection" then be satisfied with what level you get placed in. Don't place stock in a placement (such as between the top two levels) that involves a variable you don't care about. By your metric, your level should be as good as the next, so be happy- and that's not me being snarky. I truly wish people would enjoy their levels, and make the most of them. Every moment you think about being in the wrong level is a moment you're not open to learning. It suddenly becomes about preconceptions and ego. Some of the best classes I've ever had were in tracks that were too low, or that I thought were too low (which looking back, were right on).
One last point: it's not only unkind to your possible classmates to put you in the wrong level. It's unfair to you. We as instructors want to give you the best chance to learn the most possible. The instructors are just as good in a lower track, but they're fine-tuning the material to the needs of that group.
Yes, misplacements occasionally happen. But they're very, very rare. And if you're open and working hard, you'll get more out of being placed too low than too high.
With love and good will,
-Mike
The advantage, and disadvantage, of owning your own business is that it's all on you. I realized today that my blogger, MiketG, hadn't posted anything in a month. So, as boss, I had to fire her. So instead, I've hired you a new blogger- MiketheG. Hopefully, she'll be better about blogging at least once every few days. If not, I'll have to fire her, too.
There have been so many adventures in my life lately. I went on a spree of travel, starting in mid April, that went like this (highlights included if not previously updated):
Rochester, NY- Stompology.
Pittsburgh, PA.
Chicago, IL- BluesShout!.
Nashville-Memphis-Nashville-Hunstville-Nashville- being foolish in Hunstville. : )
Philly (36 hours)
Mystic, CT, Mystic Blues -NewHaven, CT- Buffalo Chicken Calzones, the house of awesome.
Philly (36 hours)
San Fransisco, CA- Camp Blues- Blue Sequins. Also, a house of awesome. And making people cry. Myself included.
Philly- over a week!
The last week and a half has been a gloriously stationary period, although no less busy that previous weeks. In a shining example of bliterary (blog literature term I just made up) parallelism, here's a list. I've:
had all the kitty fuzz I could stand
lost Shakespeare
found Up (in 3D!)
acquired some delightful Scotch
made cherry-mango goodness
flirted unabashedly
all over the neighborhood and beyond,
been frightened by lightening
worked on leading tango
won at boggle
lost at boggle
eaten salted chocolate (delightful)
practiced choreography
choreographed
eaten 2 whole boxes of mac'n'cheese (not totally true: one was "white cheese with spirals dinner" and one was "bugs n' cheese!")
attempted rock climbing
learned about cherry water ice
created 2 lindy sets without access to my music collection
wanted to cry after watching SYTYCD (audition video)
Rather than continue on with 12,000 words, here you have it:
I have two super-exciting projects which are are currently getting a lot of creative energy, and as much for my own sake as anyone else's, want to do a little writing on what's going on- forgive my lack of writing style- you get good writing when I get a break.
Buenos Aires Blues.
August 7-9, Knoxville, TN.
Most of our teachers are booked, our venue is booked. Promotions (the most time-consuming and my least favorite part of the process) are underway. We have some really great talent booked this year- Reuel just did a spankin' good job of competing at BluesShout; Marc is a brilliant dancer and a warm, encouraging teacher; Daniel has a magical, dreamy connection. We also have a live band for the first time this year. I'm starting to give thought to the part of the weekend that really gets me excited- the curriculum planning. Since this weekend faces a really unique set of issues, I try to devote a lot of brain power to putting together sets of teachers and classes that will make sense for the students, and be fun for the teachers. Early bird registration ends May 31st, so I'm in the nail-biting stage of counting nickels and dimes, and hoping that folks sign up soon, so I can start sleeping at night.
The Performance Troupe
This was the separate product of 3 minds. I'll be starting up a Philly Performance Troupe this summer, doing some pre-choreographed routines, and some original choreography. We'll do a little of everything- partnered and solo blues, lindy, solo jazz, and anything else that seems like a good fun. So, before we jump into commitment land, I'm offering a 4-week series in June on choreography and performance. We'll do a choreography, practice performance skills, and maybe talk a little about competitions. This is a chance for people to get their feet wet and test out the idea of a troupe without committing, and for me to get an idea of folks' strengths and ability levels. The idea, of course, is that this isn't a super-advanced troupe- I'm looking for really dedicated intermediates who'll be fun to work with.
This one is another belated blog. It's hard to have regular blog updates on the road!
After dropping Davis and Joy off at the airport, I was fortunate enough to have another (hungry) dancer friend left in the city. Dan introduced me to D's dogs and Steve Reich (link at bottom). Between the cheese-coverered veggie dog and fries (both were cheese covered) with non-disgusting root beer and the microwavable chicken sandwich from the bus-station "restaurant", I whiled the hours away with phasing pianos and this guy, done in pencil from a photo in a magazine:
My apologies- this blog entry isn't chonological. Right before BluesShout, I spent a week in Pittsburgh, PA, watching epic Dr. Mario battles, hiding from potential tornados, striving for sibilance, and engaging in social art. While the first few days were cold and gray, the weekend was startlingly beautiful; Joy, Davis, and I set out in search of a kite and frisbee, to take advantage of a charming Saturday afternoon. As we found out in the aisle of Kmart, however, neither Joy nor I can catch, or throw. So much for the frisbee. And they don't sell kites at Kmart, aparently. So, without an appropriately sports-like activity, we turned to the next best classic: sidewalk chalk. The results are as follows.  Davis serenades us with his mandolin. (My first piece of "art" is the flower/hummingbird in the foreground)
 It turns out, Joy has a way with kids.
 Suddenly, we're a social art project.
 Good thing we bought the 50-pack, instead of the 3-pack!
 I'm more comfortable with chalk than children.
 Joy gets comandeered into a portrait.
 Even I get a portrait done. Looks just like me, right?
How, exactly, do I sum up such a busy, rich, exhausting, challenging weekend?
Awesome, that's how.
This past weekend, I was in the Windy City, for one of the best blues events anywhere in the world- BluesShout. 8 instructors, 2 days of classes, 6 competitions, 4 bands, and 350 fired-up blues dancers. This was a weekend with a lot of goals for me, and I wasn't sure how they'd fit together, but somehow, competing, judging, taking classes, and seeking inspiration came together with total success.
Reuel and I competed in the Strictly Ballroom and the Strictly Jook Joint. While I've done the Jack and Jill thing plenty of times, this was the first time I'd done a strictly with any preparation. (If you're confused by the different terms, check out the bottom of the page. )
Reuel and I both got in to Chicago Thursday morning- he by plane, and I by train. The problem with the overnight train to Chicago, of course, is that they allow children. So when the one pack of children stayed up until 4, and the other pack of children woke up at 6, I was left... how do I put this... <self-censored> cranky. So we slept during the day, then started working together during the evening. Now how, you may ask, do you prepare for a competition, when you can't do choreography? A few ways. For one thing, each of us have strengths and weaknesses in blues. For me, I tend (as you've already read), toward being a pure follow, which isn't enough in a competition. So one of my big challenges was turning up the volume, so to speak. I have to make my movement sharper, bigger, and sassier. In addition, I needed to get comfortable adding to the dance on a much bigger scale. Reuel's a much more experienced competitor than I am, and he has a fantastic sense of phrasing- my strength is a sense of the blues aesthetic, which means I needed to work on being able to influence our movement, without interfering with his composition. Then there's the "us" part of the partnership- working on a few back-pocket things, developing our interplay... most of which, I think, did the most good simply by getting us into each other's heads again. Reuel and I have never lived in the same city, and have been on opposite ends of the East Coast this spring. Truth be told, while it was a little stressful to be working on dance on the eve of a competition, working with Reuel is always fun, and I'm really grateful that he decided to come to BluesShout and compete with me.
For those of you who weren't there, we definitely reached our goal of making finals in something: we made finals in both ballroomin and jookin, took first place in the ballroomin, and got to enter the Champion's Jack and Jill, where Reuel took first, and I took third. I am so totally proud of how hard he worked, and how well he performed. Actually, just how well we did came as more of a surprise than you might think; when they announced the finalists, right after the prelims on Saturday afternoon, they said we'd made the finals in the Jookin comp only. So you can imagine how confused we were when they called us up for the ballroomin finals. Turns out there was an error when the announcement was made. Pleasant surprise indeed!
Other highlights:
-Rewriting Michael Jackson lyrics (you had to be there, I'm afraid)
- Joe and Nelle's Routine (awesome!)
-Calvin's Public House
-Fried Potato Salad from Fizz (I'm not a potato salad fan- this stuff is different, and delicious)
-Cid, cheerleader extraordinaire
-Singing with Dexter- I'm sure the other housemates weren't
-Damon dedicated the weekend to Frankie, and nothing could have been a better tribute to a man who lived his life according to joy, dance, exhibitionism, and one-upmanship than the Cuttin Contest finals Sunday night (also in the comp notes at the bottom).
Strictly Ballroom Finals Video
Cuttin Contest Finals, Song 1
Cuttin Contest Finals, Song 2
*Competition explanations:
-a Jack and Jill is a competition where individuals enter without a partner, and are paired at random. Usually, you get multiple partners for the preliminary rounds, and then get paired with someone and judged as a couple for the finals.
-A Strictly comp is one where you enter with a partner, but you don't prepare choreography, because there's no telling what the music will be.
-Ballroom Blues comes from music that would have been played in the Roseland Ballroom, for instance, where the folks were dressed up. The music and movement are more sustained, smoother, more elegant, but still grounded and Africanized, rather than being the European ballroom dances.
-Jook joints were roadside blues bars, gritty, hole-in-the-wall kind of places, and the dancing reflects it. It's grittier and chunkier, and the fancy clothes from the ballroom have been replaced by whatever you've got hanging around.
-And finally, a Cuttin' comp is a solo blues competition, but a specialized one. Here, in addition to judging you on your dancing ability, we want to see how well you one-up the guy before you. Beyond just doing more, we want you to take his move, and make it better. The keys here are watching your opponent, and looking for a way to comment on his movement, instead of doing something totally different. It should be a dance between two people, but on a whole new level. Call and response, matching, mocking, and outdoing are all tools of the trade here. But, of course, in a good-spirited and playful way. And the most underrrated tool of the trade (for those of you who didn't make finals, take note): teamwork. If everyone's always trying to cut, it's a big cluster. You hve to let yourself get cut- it's like wrestling. In pro-wrestling, they behave as partners, even more than opponents. In cutting, it's the same- you have to compliment your partner, have give and take.
Alright kids, my belly is empty and the page is full, so all I'll say now is a GIANT thank you to the organizers for a weekend that has me exhausted and recharged. See you next year, in Austin!
-m.
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