Best/Worst of 2008

The time for lists is upon us! Yes, that time of year when every television station has some kind of 'best of/worst of' program scheduled for the week leading up to New Year's Day. I never had the chance to actually do one, I mean - when in your day-to-day life do you get a chance to rate anything you didn't just buy on eBay? So, yes, I do realize it's totally artificial and generally meaningless because we've all got our own opinions - but then I'm into meaningless so here goes!

Top Ten Dance-Related Things of 2008

10. The Paramount Theatre, Anderson, IN

Way back in March we made the hour trip up to Anderson, Indiana…potentially the ugliest downtown in all of central Indiana. The ugliness hid a small gem, though - the restored and preserved Paramount Theatre with its tiny upstairs ballroom. The band was, well…one guy and a synthesizer…but to put my feet on those historic planks was truly thrilling. Worth the drip for a Sunday afternoon and maybe next year we'll be able to make their annual Christmas Dance among the trees.

9. Indy Dancers/Brickyard Boogie Dancers

I'm not a joiner. I don't go in for clubs because at heart I'm a shy and reserved person (I'm also handsome, talented, and witty - this is my story) and I usually don't go in for socializing for its own sake. We joined both the Indy Dancers and Brickyard Boogies to take advantage of at least one dance a week at the Starlight Ballroom but soon we also were attending every-other-week dances at 8 Seconds Saloon too. The Dancers and Boogies have made dance a part of almost every weekend and sharpened our skills immeasurably in the process.

8. Rockabilly

So, swing can be a little like a costume party…especially when you're into some of the historic styles like Lindy Hop. Well, Rockabilly is the costume party you wish you got invited to. The music's fast, the dancing is loose, and the women dress like Bettie Page - the down side would be? Okay, so the Rockabilly crowd can be a bit of a monoculture and eventually you get a bit burned out on long sideburns, slicked back hair, and lounge shirts…but it's a hell of a lot of fun getting there, baby!

7. West-Coast Swing

I went into Left Coast Swing (my term) with some trepidation. I love East Coast Swing because it goes with the music I love, Big Band. West Coast rolls in jive and Latin influences to create a funkier, smoother dance that makes up for the loss of bounce with soul. We started West Coast some in the last quarter of '08 and it's quickly moved up the list of our favorite dances. I'm looking forward to getting better at it as the months go by.

6. Lindy Hop

The mother of swing, the Lindy is my very favorite dance to watch when it's done right. We throw Lindy into our EC Swing and knowing the basic Lindy Hop has made West Coast a snap. It's definitely the most aerobic dance we do and well worth the time we've spent learning it.

5. Casa Loma Ballroom, St. Louis, MO

What can I say about a place where you can do the Conga with transvestites? We went to the Casa Loma Masquerade Ball this year and it very well may be an annual pilgrimage. The neighborhood is awful - I mean post-holocaust awful - but if you can get past that fact you'll have a great time.

4. The Indiana Roof Ballroom, Indianapolis, IN

The Roof holds a special place in my heart. It's a historic ballroom that hasn't matured into an island amid economic and social despair. The ballroom is pretty much the way it was back in the 40's when Glen Miller and Benny Goodman made stops to play the room. Usually the floor is in great condition, the sound is wonderful, and there's a thunderstorm during the set break (insiders will know what that means). It's one of my favorite places to dance.

3. Starlight Ballroom

The Starlight is nothing special in terms of appearance. Look at our Flickr feed if you need to see what I mean - you could mistake the place for a small warehouse with ease. Inside, though, is a wonderful floor - spacious and maintained by people who know dancing - and (for us) it is amazingly close to where we live. This means every Friday night we can hop over for the Friday practice session, we can catch both Indy Dancers and Brickyard Boogie Dancers events, and we don't spend a fortune in gas money to get there!

2. Classes at Dance Master's

Without Melissa and Mark at Dance Masters we wouldn't be as good as we are - take that as a compliment or an insult. Melissa has been our long-suffering instructor for over a year now and during that time she's put up with our decision not to waltz, she's learned Lindy Hop, and she's fixed all the bad habits we picked up at swing festivals across the Midwest. I'm sure she's a saint of some sort.

1. Terry Lee and his Rockaboogie Band

Doubtless the most fun you'll have sober…and being sober is optional. Terry Lee and his Rockaboogie Band tear up some classic Rockabilly pieces, do Jerry Lee Lewis as only the Killer himself could, and generally put on a show worth seeing for a song. Add to that the fact that the leader of the band is personable and actually circulates among the fans, thanking you for attending and what can you say? He's the best thing that happened to us in dancing in 2008 - he inspired us to learn Rockabilly swing dancing, and he'll actually be playing a couple dates at Fountain Square in '09 - grab your dancing shoes and hit the doors folks!


What list show would be complete without a worst of? Heck, the worst is usually more fun to watch than the best because after it's over you feel a little less like a clod, right? I'm only going four deep though and I'll try to be merciful…see my halo shine?

The Worst of 2008

4. Drama Class Baby

So, I know that dance is the least natural thing on the planet aside from maybe Twinkies and spray cheese. People don't move in unison to a tempo set by instrumentation in an environment that isn't contrived. Still, number four goes to those people who seem to think the dance floor is their private stage and everyone else upon it mere shadows that they can dance through. Hey, if you're a contestant in the national whatever contest, do me a favor and dance there - I don't need you clogging up a public dance floor with your choreography.

3. Its Called Sheet Music

I've danced to great bands (see my best of list) - they make the evening, set the tempo, and keep the energy high. I've also danced to good DJ's - maybe the energy isn't quite the same but they still keep the hall bouncing. The problem is when you get a band composed of members who ought to be DJs. I've heard some bad renditions of In the Mood since I started dancing…I can only hope the people who rendered them will seek professional help in '09.

2. And Who's the Host?

So, you throw a party and as it gets going you realize you have half the amount of booze you need - what do you do? If you're a keen host you arrange to either have a friend play mercy grocer or you pawn the hosting duty off to your spouse while you make an emergency run. It's called hosting and it involves taking responsibility for the comfort and enjoyment of your guests - and frankly it applies to parties you pay to enter too. It's great when lots of people are attracted to a dance venue but with lots of guests the host's responsibilities grow geometrically…in the case of a dance party it means maybe passing out 'even/odd' numbers to limit the number of people trying to dance at once. Otherwise you might as well stand in an alley with a shot-filled sock 'cause you're stealing money from your guests.

1. Ms. Manners Says…

Oh, and though number two was about the responsibility of the host don't believe that as a guest you're free to do whatever the hell you like! Hey Mr. Crazy Knees, how about becoming aware that there actually are other dancers on the floor with you? How about getting your elbow out of my date's ear? How about learning to dance small because being in control is being good. The Worst of '08 goes to every clod who thinks it's okay to do a flying back flip on a crowded dance floor…just because they can.

So, that wraps up my entries for 2008. The first year of authoring Blue Suede Souls has been a lot of fun and I'm sure the second year will be twice as much! I hope you have a wonderful New Year. Drink a few strong ones, eat some good food, sing Ald Lang Syne, and kiss someone you love at Midnight - I hope your 2009 will be wonderful, rhythmic, and generally speaking a real blast.

Winter Wonderland

I want to go to a winter wonderland dance. You know that old song, It's a Marshmallow World? That's what I want.

The venue, I think, needs to be an old one. Like the Indy Roof, but something different because I've been to the Roof lots. I love it, but my winter wonderland fantasy needs to be a place I've never been. This venue has to have plenty of room, because there will be and lots of decorated trees all around the dance floor. Not evergreens. I want bare branchy trees with white lights. Snow is heaped under the trees and softly shimmers. It can be cotton. As long as it shimmers. Hanging from the ceiling are giant white snowflakes that gently glow. Don't ask me how to make them glow, I just want them to. Kind of that Harry Potter look in the first movie at the holiday dinner. On the dais a band is playing. The band members are in white tuxes. A female singer wears a silver sequined dress. They are in perfect tune and playing all my favorite holiday dancing music, most of which is on this blog. Probably not Smashmouth though. Behind them is a ginormous tree, this one is a holiday tree, trimmed to the nines with everything imaginable. Oh, and the bar is serving Champaign cocktails. They are complimentary, of course. It's my fantasy, OK?

So I'm dancing out on the floor with my husband (in a tux 'cause I know he would look hot in one), surrounded by other dancers who are all well mannered. They all have gorgeous clothing. I'm wearing a white velvet dress that is perfectly clean without any smudges. It stays that way all evening too. It twirls out nicely as I spin. Just as the music plays Santa Baby, snow begins to fall. Again, don't ask me how to do it. I just want it. I guess it can be fake.

At the end of the dance my man tell me he loves me and gives me a diamond something.

Sigh.

At least one of those things happen at every dance. And hey, I love rhinestones if this dream ever happens.

It's a marshmallow world in the winter
When the snow comes to cover the ground
It's the time for play, it's a whipped cream day
I wait for it the whole year round.

It's a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts
Take a walk with your favorite girl
It's a sugar date, what if spring is late
In winter it's a marshmallow world.

You're So Fun!

The Yule holiday has blown past with its usual whirl of wrapping paper and festive engagements. It's always a bittersweet thing, part of me is glad for things to slow down a little - I get to go into that winter hibernation I so dearly love. Another part of me is sorry to see the season pass…hey, I like Christmas ham and getting gifts as much (or more) than the next guy!

During the spate of parties, though, I noticed something that I thought was worth bringing up. We go to several holiday dances - some swinging parties, some ballroom dances - and during one of the more ballroomy events I received what I think is a compliment. I say that I think it was a compliment because - well - I'm just not so sure. We'd just finished an EC Swing and on the way back to our table someone stopped us and remarked that we were 'fun' dancers.

Fun? Fun how? Fun like a clown? Fun like a rollercoaster? Can someone else dancing actually be…fun? In the spirit of the season I took it as a compliment but the longer I thought about it the less I was certain that it actually was intended to be one. Something about it struck me as the sort of thing you'd say to a fifth grader after they'd portrayed a potted poinsettia in the school Christmas pageant…"Gee Tommy it sure is fun to watch you act!"

Then I wonder - in this context what's the opposite of a fun dancer? A dreary dancer? A serious dancer? A stoic dancer? Should I ascribe to be less fun in my dancing? Maybe I should throw in a few good frowns or glares to let everyone know that I mean business when I plie? Maybe I should contact the Dance Curmudgeon to figure out how to be taken more seriously.

Or maybe I should just be happy with being 'fun'? I think that's my course of action because - seriously - who wants to be so wrapped up in propriety that you can't have fun? I mean, why do you dance anyway? It sure as hell doesn't pay the bills (lord, with my taste in shoes and clothes it does the opposite) and I'm not going to win any contests (I'm fine with that, trust me). Aside from getting a good cardio work out about the only thing that's left is having…fun.

So to all your serious cats out there on the dance floor - all of you who are sweating the bend of a knee or the extension of a pinky - relax and look at me. I'm having fun!

Girls Only

Be warned. This is a girly post. Of course, if you boys out there are looking for some socking suffers, read on.

As I said way back when we started this blog, I think dancing encompasses everything. Or maybe it's just a good excuse for me to blather about anything I want. So. You've seen some posts form me concerning dresses and shoe pads. Now here's one about makeup. I love makeup. I love how I can look tired and decidedly lack luster when I get up, and somehow by the magic of makeup, look pretty good when I leave. I use lots of products to achieve this transformation, but very little of each. On a normal day it doesn't take very long. Hey, I've been doing it for 30 years. What else do I do every day? Brush my teeth?

When I go out dancing, I like to look more dramatic, and OK, it's an excuse to go back to the glittery makeup I wore in my twenties. Not as much...I think as one gets older one should tone it down. Smoky eyes look cool on a twenty year old, kinda scary for most of us in mid life. Dancing has some unique problems with makeup. Namely, you sweat. Nothing like a big 'ol streak of mascara running down your face to destroy that fetching look. Something I've been looking for a very long time is an indestructible eye liner, preferably not black. See my comment on smoky eyes above. I've used a few with varying success, some are too hard to apply, some don't last, some don't come in the colors I want.

I have now found the perfect eye liner. And with a few caveats, you too can have it. Let me first state I love makeup, but I don't love high prices. Don't get me wrong, I've over indulged at Sephora and loved it, but felt very guilty afterwards because of the price tag. And, my scientific side says most of the high prices are not justified...the formulas for cheap and expensive are not that different. You don't think so? Get a bottle of drug store shampoo. Now get a salon bottle. Look at the ingredients. See what I mean? I'm sure your hairdresser will argue amounts of said ingredients, but really, shampoo for the most part is shampoo. Same for nail polish. And other stuff.

But...occasionally, very occasionally, a product will surprise me. And Jemma Kidd eye liners were one of those. I found them in Target. I love Target. I could spend a good part of an afternoon there. Anyway. First, the bright colors of these liners caught my eye, so to speak. Ha. A myriad of bright, dare I say, neon colors, with a soft shimmer. Oh my. I quickly grabbed six, then put three back. I settled on a lime green, bright teal, and coppery brown. No price that I could see, but hey, I was in Target. How expensive could they be? Big mistake.

Turned out these lovely liners were 15 bucks a pop. Whew. Blew my budget for at least a month. My husband, sweet thing, told me not to worry. A Yule time treat. That evening I tried one. I still was a bit growly over the price. These had better be GOOD, I thought. I eased the brush out. Nice and small. This is essential, because I have no real talent for applying this stuff, if it doesn't go on smooth the first try I can never get it right. I swiped near my lash line , the formula was smooth and went on perfect. The color...oooooh. VERY pretty.

I'd never seen anything like it. OK. So far so good...but would it last? I wore it dancing. No streaks. No smudges. Unfortunately during a vigorous lindy, I felt something in one eye. I wear contacts. Miserable if something flies in. I rubbed it. Oh no, I thought, there goes my liner. I visited the ladies room and...lo and behold, the stuff was still there, looking as neon green as it had earlier. Now I started to worry.

Would it ever come off? But it did later on, just as easy as the rest of my makeup via the wonderful Olay washing clothes (another cool tool). So there you are.

But now that we're on the subject, how about a few more make up products? How about blush? First I have to say is a bit embarrassing because of the name of my favorite. Who names a blush Orgasm? But it IS fab, the brand is Nars. I've seen it used by dark and pale skinned ladies alike to the same soft shimmery goodness. The shade is a wonderful golden peach that seems to work with everyone. Very nice. You can get it on ebay, which I wish I done with the eye liners but oh well. I have never found the color in any other brand.

Nail polish. They were all the same to me, except sometimes the expensive brands like Opi sometimes have better colors, and then I found...Nailtique. This is not a color, but a fixer. When you put this on first (I like formula 2) your nails Will Not Break. Or split, shred, peel. OK, so I still break one now and then l, but I was using my nail as a tool. For normal activities, this stuff is magic. Also available on eBay.

The third and last makeup item. For those of you who do not have a pink under tone in your skin, this is a cool tip. Up to now, I have never found foundation that worked with my skin tone. I have a decidedly yellow tinge, NOT pink. Also foundation to me is rather yuk, but there are a few places I need it. I found two perfect items. One is Physicians Formula cover up in Yellow. You can find it in most drug stores. It's supposed to be an under eye thing and it does work good there, but I use it to cover any other unfortunate place on my face that needs covering .A little bit does it. I also like a very light veil of powder to set everything, but again, up to now all I could find was pinkish beige (terrible on me) or "translucent", which made me look like a ghost. Model's Choice (eBay, again), has a nice yellow tinged beige that works great for those who have a yellow under tone. (I refuse to use the word sallow.)

Oh, and girls, try brown mascara instead of black, even if your hair is dark. It does the same job but looks much softer. See my smoky eye comment above.

Oh dear, I've done everything except lips. I'm not a lipstick girl, I like gloss. Gloss is good, except when you dance you do NOT want a sticky one because your hair will stick or your partner will at some point get it on his shirt. For dancing I like Bonne Bell (drugstore) in Dr. Pepper. It gives a nice soft red tint, it's not sticky. Sometimes I use TINY bit of Venom gold shimmer over the top (eBay), but not too much or it will get messy.

OK, I'm done now. Hair goo at some point in the future.

Swing, Swing, Swing...

I knew there were plenty of swings. I read somewhere at least thirty varieties. Right now Gary and I know EC, WC, Lindy, and sorta rockabilly. We are learning that from a tape (Ms. Sophia out of Chicago, she rocks). Unfortunately, a tape just isn't as good as a real live teacher, even though Sophia has lots of cool moves. Anyway. Gary and I set out last week to experience the Carolina Shag, the St. Louis Imperial Swing, and the Arkansas Street Swing. I say "experience", because no way can one learn a dance in one weekend. Well, at least we can't.

It was a great weekend. Fabulous dancers, some of the best I've ever seen. The Shag was rather "meh" to me, it kinda looked like those Irish dancers that keep their upper body stiff and do the feet. The Shag is impressive, don't get me wrong, but maybe I'm just too bouncy for it. The Imperial Swing was cool and I liked the moved we learned, but I didn't see much difference from it and EC. The Arkansas Street Swing was another story. Loved it. Very slinky, and although we will be adding the move we learned to our WC, it was really different from anything we've done so far.

I find it fascinating that there are so many variations on swing, which I know there are that many on Latin dances too, and probably other ballroom dances as well. Which means that there will always be a new dance to learn.

Somehow, that's very comforting.

Old Home Weekend

Sometimes there's no place like home. I'm not talking about home where you sleep and eat and keep your stuff…I'm talking about those old, familiar haunts that you visit and revisit so often you know them as well as you know your own home. For us, the dance versions of these homes away from home are the Starlight Ballroom and the Indiana Roof Ballroom. If you've read my entries for the last month - and I encourage you to do that, I'm not writing for my health here - you'll already know that we've paid our last visit to the Indiana Roof for the year…sadly the Roof's New Years Eve festivities are only so-so even though they're held in spectacular surroundings. Tonight we're visiting the place we'll be spending New Year's Eve - Starlight Ballroom.

Starlight is kind of generic when it comes to the interior. It's just a square, new-ish building with a good floor - no points for style unless you call drop ceilings stylish. Still it's the location Indy Dancers calls home once every other Saturday and, therefore, so do we.

Really it's kind of funny when I think about having a 'usual' place to dance. I mean we've traveled from Iowa to Cincinnati to dance, we've attended workshops on Lindy Hop, Arkansas Street Swing, St. Louis Imperial Swing, and Carolina Shag, we're into taking chances with our dancing - yet here I am extolling the virtues of the same-old-same-old. Strange how wandering can wear you out. Maybe it's something about the time of year…Thanksgiving always has been a 'family' holiday for me and with Yule right around the corner maybe it's natural to start thinking about the kith and kin, home and hearth.

I guess that means for the rest of 2008 we'll be exercising the dance steps we've learned throughout the year on the floors we've come to know and surrounded by the dancers we've come to recognize (for good or ill). I'm good with that, really good with it when I think about it.

The Turkey Trot

So what do you do for Thanksgiving? A little turkey, a little dressing, maybe some mashed potatoes, and then a nap on the couch with the football game on the television? It's a good gig if you can get it - I'm all for the tryptophan and carb coma, in fact I often think about making my own turkey just so I can enjoy the leftovers! The turkey part got me thinking about a particular vintage dance that I remembered my father in law having a piano roll for (at least I think he does, I'm getting addled in my old age). The dance is the Turkey Trot and its part of the 'teens, ragtime fad for animal-based dances. Don't ask where the idea for creating all sorts of dances based on animals came from - I just know a walk through the list of dances will produce a veritable zoo. According to Mixed Pickles:

"The dance floor was turning into a barnyard. Rowdy new dances like the Turkey Trot, Grizzly Bear, Bunny Hug, and Chicken Scratch were invading dance halls. Like ragtime music itself, early ragtime dance steps and movements were born in the black community. Elegant European salon dances had always emphasized a quiet, erect carriage and dignified bearing. These dances, with their shoulder shaking, slouching and tight embrace were stomping and wiggling their way from rowdy west coast honky-tonks, bordellos and lower class dance halls to every ballroom across the nation.

Of course dance teachers were horrified. They saw these dances as vulgar if not downright obscene. Worst of all, these "animal" dances didn't require hours of expensive lessons, their simple steps could be learned by watching other dancers, or even improvised on the spot."

I'm getting off track, though…frankly I just thought it was funny to connect Thanksgiving with a ragtime era dance! Heck, you try to find a T-day dance! In the meantime here's what the Turkey Trot looks like. Go practice it and burn off one or two spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.

Goodbye Roof - for 2008

November 16 brought the end of the Big Band series at the Indiana Roof and our last visit to the venue this year. The roof holds a New Years Eve gala and last year we attended - but the food was mediocre, the band adequate, and the price exorbitant so this year we'll be attending a New Year's party at the Starlight Ballroom for less than half the price. The upshot is last night we said goodbye to The Roof for the year.

The Bill Sleeter Dance Band provided music for the send off. They're a good outfit even though their music was alternately draggy and too fast (an odd combo). They did have one of the best mixes of music, though, and they provided a killer set list that gave you the songs for the night and (if you didn't know) what dance you could do to those songs.

It's kinda sad to know we won't be going back to the Roof in '08. I don't know, maybe in all my experimenting and seeing new venues it's nice to have one constant. Still, we'll be back there in '09 and the calendar ahead holds at least one visit from Terry Lee that we'll try to make in spite of the normally insane holiday schedule.

Move Across the River - Part II

Sometimes you set out to do something with the thought, 'yeah, this will be a breeze…'. You expect to be good at it - heck, half the reason you're doing it is just so you have a chance to shine, right? Well, that was me when we set out for Cincinnati Bop's 16th Annual Move Across the River this past Friday. The plan was to take an Arkansas Street Swing class on Friday morning, dance during the afternoon, just hang on Friday night, take a St. Louis Imperial Swing class Saturday morning, then a Carolina Shag class, and maybe dance a little in the afternoon before heading home. A full schedule, but since we expected to nail the dance sessions and didn't expect too much from the classes - no sweat, right? Let me tell you, this was a wakeup call.

First off let me say that Move Across the River is a heck of an event and that it draws members from 44 clubs across the Midwest and Southeast. There were groups from Pittsburg, Oklahoma, Iowa, Missouri, Michigan, Wisconsin, the Carolinas, and even as far away as Florida. The Drawbridge Inn in Ft. Mitchell, Kentucky was full with boppers, shaggers, swingers, and dancers of every stripe - let me tell you it was an interesting feeling not being the only one walking down a hotel hallway with a bag of dance shoes slung over my shoulder! Kind of nice, really.

Secondly, I'll point out that there were about twenty people attending this year's event who'd been to every single one…that's sixteen straight years of attending ONE dance event. The level of experience around us was greater than just about any event we've attended thus far in our young dance careers. And what's more these people had skill! I've witnessed some good dancing but this was the smoothest WC swinging and the sultriest shag-dancing that I've ever encountered on any dance floor. Even guys nearly twice my age were getting down…it made me feel downright decrepit!

The good news is we learned a routine in the Arkansas Street Swing that we'll be perfecting and working into our other swings and we nearly picked up a routine in the St. Louis Imperial Swing that we'll be able to adapt too. The bad news, my beloved Carolina Shag isn't the dance I thought it was - it's geared for those with creaky knees judging from what the teachers showed us. Still I'm sure we'll invest a little time in learning to shag - after all you've got to have something to do to slow triple-swing tempo music and a fellow can only do so many WC swings in a row before getting really bored.

The down side of the event? I've never been in a dancehall that allowed smoking until this weekend. Sure, bars cater to smokers as well as non-smokers…but hotel ballrooms? The ones I've been in here in Indy are almost all non-smoking venues. Not so much for the Drawbridge. In fact, I don't know if I've been in a hotel with more smoking - they even had a cigarette machine in the lobby, something I haven't seen in ten years. The net result for me was a minor headache almost throughout the event. Still, I guess it could have been worse!

We also wound up dancing Friday night - something we hadn't planned on doing. It was an experience - two hours of dancing during the day along with an hour and a half lesson then another two hours of dancing at night. Then up early to check out before our first lesson - and five more hours of class. Tomorrow we're at the Indiana Roof for an evening of ballroom dancing…oh my aching knees!

Move Across the River '08 - Part I

Tomorrow we're off on another dance excursion. This time it's not far - just to Cincinnati where we'll be attending Cincinnati Bop Club's Move Across the River '08. We're not members of Cinci Bop, what caught my attention was the chance to take lessons in some fairly obscure types of swing dance: The Shag, The Imperial Swing, and the Arkansas Street Swing.

It's a funny thing about the way dance developed after the 40's. Music got faster, fewer people danced, until (after the disco gluttony of the 70's) nearly all the dance halls closed their doors or were converted into some less savory second life. When you start to learn swing today you're taught that there are two types: East and West Coast and if you dig around long enough you'll eventually discover Lindy Hop. The thing is, in reality swing was as eclectic as the culture of the states of the union. In the southeast The Shag was the swing of choice while in the mid-south you had dances like the Arkansas Street Swing and the Imperial Swing (with roots in the St. Louis area).

Back near the beginning of this blog you'll remember we went to a bunch of Lindy Hop classes in Iowa. It was a great experience and I took home a lesson (in addition to a few ideas for steps). That lesson was this: Don't expect to learn a whole dance in a two day conference. You probably say 'duh' but yeah, some part of me expected to come home from Iowa knowing how to Lindy. I'm not going to Cincinnati with the same misconception! The hope is to steal a couple of Shag, Street Swing, and Imperial moves so that we can work them into our triple EC and our Lindy Hop.

Pictures and a report on the proceedings will be forthcoming Saturday evening - so stay tuned!

Julian Jam '08 - Part II

Six days after the fact I'm getting around to posting a little more information about the '08 Julian Jam! The night was a success - nobody got stomped, nobody got pummeled, and everyone generally had a good time not to mention supporting an important cause. I highly recommend attending one of these jams…a little good music, some very good food, and who knows you might come home with a prize or two.

For our part we left our money and left the door prizes to other people. Oh well, we were there for the dancing anyway. And dance we did - the Stardusters provided the soundtrack for the evening. They're a good band if a bit disorganized and out of tune on occasion but they do manage to swing it and they actually even got in a rumba and a WC instead of the usual Lindy-Only fare you get at most Indy Stomp sponsored events. One note on the Stardusters, if you get a chance to catch the vocal styling of Janiece Jaffe don't pass it up - this woman definitely brings it. When she sings a torch song you practically smell the smoke. Somebody once said you can't sing the blues if you don't have the blues - she's definitely been done wrong by somebody!

As for the American Cabaret at the Athenaeum…I've danced in bigger phone booths. It's important to mention that this historic venue was originally intended to promote gymnastics to the German community here in Indy. The building is big and the Cabaret is located in what must have been one of the gymnasiums - high ceilings, open rafters, big windows and the lot. You might think that'd make for a great dancehall - I mean how many high school dances are held in gymnasiums, after all? Well the problem is when the Cabaret came in they broke the floor up into levels so that stage shows could be put on for an audience seated at tables. This left exactly no floor for dancing…in fact the Julian Jam folks brought in a temporary floor for the evening (nice and slick, hooray). Anyway, if you put more than four couples on the floor at a time you got a major traffic jam - it's a good thing not too many people dance at Julian Jam events.

Oh, we did get complimented on our swing by Ms. Jaffe. That feels good!

Julian Jam '08 - Part I

Part of the reason I decided to write about dancing was the fact it combined two of my loves: dancing and writing. Now those two loves have crossed over one another in the physical world. Tonight we attended a benefit for the Julian Center at the Athenaeum here in Indianapolis. The Athenaeum was built in 1893 by German immigrants who escaped persecution in their homeland, fleeing to American and eventually Indianapolis. The building itself was designed and built by Vonnegut and Bohn Architects, a firm that carries the family name of Indiana legend Kurt Vonnegut. That's the closure of the circle - dance to literature to literature to dance…nice, huh?

We attended the Julian benefit last year - then it was held at Fountain Square. Catering for the event was stellar, provided by Shelby Street Café (there's some debate on this - I keep thinking the eats were provided by Scholar's Inn, a Mass Ave institution but I'm often wrong about these things!) and including more food than a body should eat when planning on dancing. Its surprising the stuff I stuffed my face with didn't wind up as a greasy spot on the dance floor after the first fast tune! Somehow I managed though - I'm sure Kell's glad about that!

There's something about dancing in a venue like the Athenaeum. I mean the Indiana Roof is a great place and it has such a storied history…but the Athenaeum reaches back to ancestral roots. Imagine a people bereft of all they knew back in the old country. They've traversed the Atlantic Ocean and the North Eastern seaboard of the United States. They've penetrated past the Appalachian Mountains and into the cereal bin of the country where people are earthy and not given to out-and-out acceptance of differences. Finally they settle in Indianapolis and they try to make a life for themselves. Then after all the escaping they realize that some of the things they escaped are really missed - in their hearts a longing grows and it's the kind of longing that cannot be quenched because their personal reality stood in the way.

So what did they do? What would you do? Try to keep the good things alive and let the bad things go into the dustbin of memory? Maybe…I guess as an outsider I'll never really know. The one thing I know is that in 1893 the Athenaeum was erected and on its façade a plaque was placed stating 'Frisch und Frei, Stark und Treu' (Fresh and Free, Strong and True).

Tonight we'll be making use of the American Cabaret Theater, enjoying the music of the Stardusters, and trying to avoid the stomping feet of Naptown Stomp Lindy Hop Society (I'll break out my steel toed saddle shoes). As always there will be pictures and a report, so stay tuned!

BOO!!!

I love Halloween. I love the weather, the spookiness, and the permission to wear anything I want. I feel sorry for people who have linked this enchanted holiday to bad stuff. It wasn't always like that. Take a look at some of the pictures from Halloween parties and dances in the '20's. Or the sweet decorations from the '50s. Maybe those who have such a vendetta against Halloween should take a good look at themselves instead. Especially after the election results, woohoo.

OK. I'm done now.

Gary and I decided this year to spend our anniversary dancing. Yes, we married on October 31st. We took a quick trip to St. Louis and the Casa Loma ballroom. As usual, my husband described the event so perfectly I won't rehash, just a few words on how wonderful it is to be with what I think of as "my people", individuals of all ages, ethnicity, and orientation blending and having a blast.

My favorite moments? Giggling with a cross dresser over my corset (he liked it), seeing a dead ringer Sarah Palin get booed and watching her slapping her butt in response, and a middle aged man winning the costume contest with a Mr. Bubbles look...it is something to see check out the website.

So was thinking about Halloween and dancing, and realized for me there was a connection. When you are dressed as a pirate you simply cannot think about any worries you may have. When you are dancing, you MUST be right there or you will mess up. This is especially good for me, because I am usually not an in the moment person, I am a planner, an oh-no-what-about-that, or an oh-dear-this-is-coming-up kind of gal.

Dressing up in a silly costume keeps me grounded, helps me enjoy the here and now. The past is the past. The future may not be at all what you are planning for or worrying about. I'm trying to be more present oriented, because really, that is all you can be sure of. Might as well enjoy it!

Now if you will excuse me, I have to finish painting the bathroom, because we are having a party in the next few weeks and I have SO MUCH TO DO.

Halloween at the Casa Loma Ballroom, St. Louis

A belated Happy Halloween to all you ghouls out there in swing land! Halloween is my favorite holiday - maybe it’s the fond memory of sugar highs past or maybe it's because it's the only time of the year that scaring the hell out of people is expected, whatever the case I like the holiday enough that my wife and I were married on October 31st. This year we headed southwest to St. Louis for a Halloween ball at the storied Casa Loma ballroom. The original Casa Loma was built in 1927 and it wasn't received with much fanfare - in fact it nearly went bust until better management took the place over in '35. Maybe it just was bad luck. The market crashed in October of 1929 and there aren't too many two year old businesses that are ready to withstand a major financial collapse - thing is, when the Loma took off again the depression hadn't lifted so maybe it's just a case of the right hand being on the tiller.

The sad part is in 1940 the Casa Loma ballroom burned down - from the pictures the place was a total loss. I'm still looking for details on how and where the fire started but it apparently consumed a fair portion of downtown St. Louis since a local church also was destroyed and if I'm correct (from what we saw this weekend) that church is five or six blocks away from the ballroom itself. Luckily the ballroom was rebuilt but much of its 20's era glory was lost and the new façade is plain, unornamented brick with a small sign indicating what lies within.

We arrived at the Sheraton St. Louis in the early afternoon and I have to recommend the rooms there. Doubtlessly the bed in our room was the best hotel bed I've ever slept in and that includes a stay at the DuPont in Maryland. I can't recommend the room service, though - at least not unless you're willing to sell a kidney. For a sandwich, fries, and a salad (no drinks) we were socked for over $40. Damn that stings! You'd think the food came out of a Middle Eastern well!

If you travel to the Casa Loma I might remark that the neighborhood surrounding it is - interesting. Interesting in the same way that a visit to the East Bank is interesting. Don't stray from the beaten path, stay in the well-lit areas, oh and isn't it interesting that there are armed guards everywhere? We didn't linger to take in the street life, though - I can't say I want to hang out too long when I'm dressed as a pirate complete with bandana and eye patch. That's just asking for trouble, isn't it?

By seven thirty we were ensconced at our floor-side table and we'd changed into our swing shoes and damn did they get a workout. Sh-boom was the band, a pretty good '50's outfit who could use an equally decent soundman to keep their decibel level somewhere below that of the Concord. In fact that'd be my only complaint for the entire evening (and if you know me, you know I like to complain!) - they say if it's too loud you're too old but when the sound ceases to be music and starts to be some weird kind of distorted rattle to a beat, something ain't right!

Still we danced - and danced - and danced until we were dripping with sweat and beaten. The crowd was fantastic - alive and fun and so diverse. I love Indy and I treasure the opportunities I get to attend ballroom dances at the Indiana Roof - but damn do I wish there was a venue like the Loma here in town. Everything from college-age kids to hoochie-mamas to cross dressers with a liberal sprinkling of booze and rock-n-roll and you got one hot night. My favorite moments of the night were watching the cross dressers dance, seeing someone dressed as Sara Palin actually booed (hey, it's not fair if you're mocking a buffoon to get the ridicule they deserve!), and slow dancing with my lovely wife just so we could catch our breath for the next swing tune.

Oh, and apparently we dodged the camera man who took pictures of the evening. We must be like the bigfoot couple or something - there's little photographic evidence of our existence other than a blurry shot from a distance that might just be a pair of trees dressed as pirates. I'm not saying we don't exist, I'm just saying you couldn't prove it by this picture! Definitely give the whole deck a scan, though - some great pictures there! I'll do my darndest to get a slide show of our pictures posted too - I have to admit they're nowhere as good as the ones the Loma's photographer took...then again, he is a photographer!

We stumbled back to our room and finally hit the sheets sometime after one in the morning - then it was back to Indy in time for a very tired day of work today. But damn it was a good kind of tired!

Skids

It's been awhile since the old curmudgeon had a few words with you folks out there in dance land. Sorry for the delay - I've been busy chasing kids off my lawn with a cane when I'm not down at the corner grocery complaining about the price of onions these days. It's the latter that has me sitting down to type a missive tonight - kids, youngsters, rapscallions.

Yesterday evening I had a perfectly respectable evening planned. I toddled down to the local ballroom to join up with my fellow club members for their 7th anniversary dinner and dance. In my heart I was looking forward to a dandy evening - mangling some potatoes and a slice of passable roast before settling in for a couple of hours on the dance floor. It's the predictable things in life that keep me sane - they are the anchor that moors me in the safe harbor of my life (to get poetic about it).

Things were swell and I was about to head to the buffet for a slice of cake when the club DJ announced that we had 'visitors' attending the function that evening. Don't get me wrong - I don't have anything against out-of-towners coming to any dance, club or otherwise. It's fine for a few relatives in from Cleveland to occupy a table and watch the goings on…maybe even join in for a Foxtrot or Shag. Really, it's great…but isn't an anniversary supposed to be for the people anniversarizing not for spectators? I mean, what if your significant other asked to invite a cousin to come along to your anniversary dinner? Or maybe share your birthday for the sake of expedience? Doesn't seem right, does it? So maybe that's why I got a feeling of foreboding when I heard that announcement. I wouldn't say I wanted to yell 'throw the bums out' but I have to admit somewhere deep in the rusty workings of my soul I kinda thought it.

Still the evening went forward and the DJ struck up the usual first swing tune - like I said these dances are almost rituals, there are club members who've been attending far longer than I have and I suspect they could name the tunes that will be played any night in order. Any deviation from the pre-arranged order must be submitted in writing weeks in advance and put before a secret committee - I hear there are funny hats and secret handshakes but I'm not sure and if I were I wouldn't be allowed to say. I sit back and I look across the floor and the first sight I encounter is that of the visitors…dancing.

Okay, dancing is a broad category and maybe in east armpit wherever these people hale from they don't require things like…being on the beat…but I still assume that they'd have some basic manners. It all goes back to the fact that people don't seem to know the difference between social dancing and antisocial dancing. So let me lay it down for you.

In social dancing you're aware of where you are on the floor most, if not all, of the time. You're also aware of what's going on around you…you know where the slow people are, where the fast people are, and in general you try to make it pleasant for everyone and, thereby, yourself. While in antisocial dancing you just worry about showing off - hey, everyone else can look out for themselves 'cause it's all about you - right?

In social dancing you know that the floor is divided into roughly three sections: outer orbit for those who conflate traveling dances with track events, inner orbit for everyone else, and middle for beginners and people who aren't doing traveling dances. In antisocial dancing the whole floor is nothing but the fast lane and if you're in the fast lane well, you might as well be playing on the freeway.

In social dancing you make sure you don't dance into the way of other dancers if you can help it. If you make a mistake an cross someone up, you excuse yourself politely and get out of their way as best you can. In antisocial dancing, hey this is Mad Max land and if you can't defend your slice of hardwood then it ought to be taken from you by force.

In social dancing you excuse yourself when you bump into someone - even a simple 'sorry' will suffice, after all we all goof once in awhile. In antisocial dancing the other buffoons on the floor are luck you don't knock them out cold when you run into them…after all, dance is a contact sport.

So you probably got my gist - I didn't so much like these folks. I will say they spurred me on to add to the Blue Suede Souls lexicon, though. The new definition is as follows (and will be posted appropriately):

Skids (n): Teen aged dancers who, either engrossed in the opposite sex or in their perceived ability to dance, blatantly take up more than their share of the floor, present a hazard to other dancers, and generally detract from the enjoyability of an evening dancing. We'll stay on the far end of the dance floor, as far away from the skids as possible.

Earl 'Snake Hips' Tucker

Melissa tells me I need to work on loosening up for Latin dances. Cuban hips and all that stuff. I'm trying - I do the exercises and I try to remember the whole slow-hip-quick-hip-quick-hip-slow-hip routine but I have to say it doesn't come natural. In fact I'm pretty sure it doesn't come natural for most men in the U.S. We're taught that any moving of the hips is to be avoided for certain moronic social reasons. Never underestimate the power of stupidity (and coming up in a public school system with about 3000 little morons looking for their chance to make your life miserable).

Anyway, today I was trolling around YouTube and I came across a video that made me want to just give up the whole Cuban hip routine. This guy is Earl 'Snake Hips' Tucker. He came on the dance scene in mid-20's Harlem as a sort of dance freak act. He hung out with the Savoy gang and danced at the Cotton Club performing his unique interpretation of the 'Snake Hips Dance' which was possibly an interpretation of a ritualistic African dance.

All I can say is it appears the man has no bones!

Out of Time

I look young for my age. This is interesting, because what used to be an insult is now a compliment. It is also context specific, because looking young is a huge hassle just when you don't hassles. For example, college. Go home, little girl, go back to high school, and on and on. I used to hold a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other (I drank the beverage, let the cig burn) just to make me look older. It didn't, I'm sure.

Now, of course, I find it handy, especially since my husband and I enjoy many dancing venues that draw a young crowd, like swing dancing. Even so, I know that we do stand out. I may look young, but I don't look like a teenager.

So that was what made this Sunday's dance so interesting. Gary and I attended a concert given by the Indianapolis Jazz Club. The music was 1920's. There were some young people there, but most were probably 70 or 80. I loved watching grey heads bobbing up and down with the music, and singing along. It made me wonder what future young kids will think of me mouthing the words to Nine Inch Nails. Anyway. We danced a lot. We garnered quite a few compliments, all related mostly around "you young people sure look good", or, "we think it's nice that young people enjoy our music." I also got a "young lady" now and then. Funny.

I also got to dance with my dad. We did the foxtrot. And there's nothing that makes one feel like a little girl again than dancing with your dad.

All of this got me thinking about who you are in relation to other people. And not just age. What you have on may look weird in one crowd, but blends in another. A dance that you do may not be the dance others are doing, but the steps fit just fine. For me, it's important to know who I am no matter what is going on around me.

And okay, so most of the time I choose to be an odd, against the grain, teenybopper. I saw a white headed woman last night jitterbugging and giggling as her man whirled her around. I hope I am her when I get to be that age.

Swing baby, swing.

West End Jazz Band

Sunday we caught a good show at the Sterrett Center on the east side of Indianapolis. The West End Jazz Band is an outfit out of Chicago and they focus on the music of the Jazz Age (20's and 30's). They were in good form too, tearing it up with up-tempo music of the era. Unfortunately a lot of 20's music is too fast for swing dancing - triple-steps become shuffles and the singles become…well…just wild. Dances like the Charleston were meant to be wild - exuberant, an outlet for the pent up energy of the day's youth and the new-found affluence of the middle-classes. All that pre-depression joy welling up and spilling out in music, booze, and women rouging their knees. I highly recommend F. Scott Fitzgerald for anyone who gives a hoot about the 20's - The Great Gatsby is a personal favorite but if you're in the mood for a short story try Bernice Bobs her Hair or maybe Diamond Big as the Ritz (mind you, that one shows the racial bigotry of the time).

I want to learn the Charleston. We've been picking up a few odds and ends in association with learning the Lindy Hop but those steps are really watered down from the original dance. I've tried to look a few of the foot patterns online - Mixed Pickles has a little information and even some verbal descriptions of the dances…which have led me to believe that no human being can learn to dance by reading instructions! I guess I should be satisfied with the fact that the Foxtrot and Waltz are dances which remained popular throughout the 20's - either that or buckle down and get someone who can teach me to Toddle!

Then again, I'm not so sure my personal outlook lends itself to the dances of the 20's. Like I said, they were wild and exuberant - they were meant to be fun: fling off the shackles of every-day life along with all those repressive social mores (shocking was the fact a woman would show her ankles let alone her knees…and no sleeves? You might as well be nude!) have a few drinks, catch some hot jazz, and get on the dance floor. I'm all for abandoning social mores - it's the giggling and goofing that sometimes escapes me. I'm more comfortable with a bit of the depression era seriousness and soberness to play off - it makes me a lot more fun.

Anyway, back to the West End Jazz Band. The crowd at the Sterrett Center always pleases me. They're almost all seniors and most of them very senior, seniors but they're out there having a good time even if it is at half tempo. Plus there's the added pleasure of the comments - yes, I'll admit it, I like to get compliments on my dancing…is it a crime to want to hear that you're doing well? The Sterrett Center is special though - we've attended two dances there and both times I've had some elderly person toddle up to me to ask if Kelly and I are professional dancers or if we teach dance. Damn that feels good! It makes all those days where I'm not sure I can hit the floor with my feet a lot easier to bear!

The one thing I couldn't figure out, though, was the tickets for the Sterrett Center dance…

The Meat Lady...

The meat lady likes Blue Suede Souls - and I wouldn't cross her, she's got that crazy look in her eye!

It Ain't All Spice...

I've been sitting here in my half-dark office listening to the remnants of Ike roar through Indiana and considering our dance habits of late. It seems to me that a certain routine has settled in on us. We go to the Starlight Ballroom most weekends - at least once, depending on if one of our clubs is having a dance. During the week we have our dance lesson and - again, depending on the clubs we belong to - we go to the 8 Seconds Saloon for a quiet couple of hours spent honing what we've learned. On occasion we go to the Indiana Roof Ballroom and some weekends we go t the Riolo - but that's catch as catch can. That's our usual - our comfortable routine.

I started off thinking maybe the whole routine was preparation for the long, Midwestern winter ahead - kind of ant-like buckling down and getting things in order. Then again, I thought it could just be what happens in your second year of dancing - with experience comes and understanding of the things you do and don't like. In the end I wasn't able to come up with any definitive answers - all I can say is it's comfortable routine and I'm okay with that.

Somebody once said that variety is the spice of life implying we all should get out and have new experiences - and there's some truth in the assertion. The thing is you can't live on spice alone. Think of it in food terms - how about a big dish of tarragon? Maybe toss in a bit of black pepper and some cloves for texture? Doesn't that sound yummy? How about indigestible? Every spice in the world is meant to accomplish one thing - to be an accent.

I love checking out a new venue and trying a new step. One of the reasons I wanted to learn to dance was because I wanted to see the great dancehalls and ballrooms of years gone by. The thing is to dance and dance well - you have to embrace the routine as much as the 'spicy bits' or you'll wind up witnessing all those great dance floors as a wallflower.

Routine is practice. It's getting out there and doing the basic rumba step over and over until you can incorporate Cuban hips and make it smooth. I'm in to swing - and I mean really in to it. Every time we go anywhere we hit every swing tune we've got the stamina to dance and we throw all the moves we know at those dances. But it's the routine that makes it look good. I can't say how many 'ballroom swingers' I've run into on the dance floor - you know the type? They're stiff as a starched shirt and look like they're more worried about only touching their dates with two fingers and keeping a fake smirk plastered on their inexpressive faces than actually FEELING the music. The thing is, swing isn't routine for them so it looks stilted and frankly, pretty silly - it's all spice.

So that's what I'm thinking on this less than routine day and I figured I'd murder a few syllables to express it. Now, back to daydreaming…

The Shoes Make the Man - Frustrated

Usually I leave the coy observations and snarky remarks to DC but I thought I'd kick in with a bit of my own testiness just to show that I'm not all fun and giggles. About two weeks ago I had what is being referred to as 'the shoe incident'. We went to a Tuesday night dance sponsored by one of our clubs and shall we say it wasn't one of my most stellar nights. The place was hot and I was tired and there are a dozen other excuses but when it comes right down to it my feet wouldn't do what I wanted them to do which was frustrating. Adding to that frustration was the fact that for some reason my shoes would not stay tied.

Yes, I tried double knots. Yes I tried working all the slack out of the shoestrings. Nothing worked - half way through a dance if the left one hadn't come untied the right one felt like it was about to fall off.

So, after the fourth untying, I went back to our table, fished for the shoe tongue that'd managed to work its way under my foot, and yanked it back into place.

…and it came off right in my hand.

Kinda felt like that guy in The Godfather - you know when he wakes up with a horse's head in his bed? Only I didn't have the Hollywood mansion, silk sheets, and I didn't actually scream.

So, as you probably imagine, this put me in the market for a new pair of practice shoes. I decided that I'd like something that was different but still something I wouldn't mind knocking around. No fussy, high gloss finishes and no suede shoes that I'd have to worry over. I thought that, with the whole world on the internet, surely there would be hundreds - possibly thousands of styles of men's dance shoes to choose from. And after a week searching I came to the conclusion that there are far fewer styles of men's than you might think. Essentially (if you eliminate the weird outliers like tap and ballet shoes) there are five types:

Practice Shoes
Oxford - Standard Heel
Saddle
Oxford - Cuban Heel
Tennis Shoe

When you get right down to it there are really only four types - salsa and ballroom shoes are essentially oxfords only with different heels…it just felt better to actually have one type of shoe per finger on one hand. I've been to the big shoe sites - DanceStore.com and Moonlight Shoes. When I find a shoe I like it comes in a vast array of sizes…three of them all smaller than a US 10 (I, of course, wear a 12.5).

Eventually I settled on an off-brand pair of dance sneakers - those weird-assed split sole jazz things that have zero arch support. They might be durable but they're also pretty uncomfortable and if I actually wore them out dancing I think I'd be too sore to walk the next morning. Not exactly what I had in mind when I put my money down.

So, for the time being I keep looking and I keep being disappointed. Who knows, maybe by the time I'm 70 DanceStore.com will decide that people's feet don't stop growing when their eight years old.

Being Human

Although I see nothing wrong with it, for the most part I believe scatological humor belongs in the bathroom. You know, in that basket people pile old Reader's Digests and catalogues. Now and then a good poo inspired joke will get me laughing, but I'm more of a bad pun person. Anyway. Gary has already written of the Unfortunate Event which occurred at the Roof last week. I have another take on it.

As Gary so eloquently wrote, the "cloud" we danced into was quite possibly the worst I have ever encountered. I tried not to grimace, but oh dear, smelly doesn't even come close. At the time I thought it interesting that amidst all the beauty there was such a steamy underside, so to speak. Later that evening Gary and I were in our jammies watching the Olympics with our kitty beside us. A picture perfect end to the night, although sometimes it's hard for me to watch.
I feel so bad for athletes when they make a mistake or don't do their best. Suddenly Gary asked me did I smell anything. No, I did not. A few minutes later he asked again. I leaned towards him and...whew!! Our sweet kitty had, er, scent marked Gary. I thought again how interesting that such a lovely cat could produce such an odoriferous scent. You could say our evening was bookended by unfortunate smells.

All of that got me thinking. No matter how ethereal dancing is, it is danced by humans. We can be elegant, but we can also be decidedly not elegant, often in ways beyond our control such as that poor man out on the dance floor. It is a reminder to me that dancing should be at its heart fun; because that is truly the only thing you can have control over. Mistakes happen. Accidents happen. People fall off the beam, miscommunicate or misinterpret a dance step, and yes, burp, fart, and have green stuff in their teeth. You never know when events like that will happen and you can't prevent them. But fun is eternal and a state of mind. And you have ultimate control over your state of mine.

I hope I can say that the next time I fall on my butt. :-)

They Don't Swing Like They Used To

Last night I got the opportunity to attend a powwow of the Classic Ragtime Society of Indianapolis. I like ragtime - for the most part it's bubbly and happy and it makes me tap my feet and think about times long gone by. There are some real hot pianists who play the society's gig including a 16 year old kid who's got more going before he can order a beer than I do to this day. That was a little depressing - but I got over it.

One of the interesting bits, though, was a group of period dancers who came in costume to demonstrate some of the dances of the early 19th century. It was cool to see that a lot of the dances I'm learning now - the foxtrot especially - have really evolved over the decades. The one that really got me was the Charleston.

The Charleston I saw last night is not the Charleston I work into the Lindy Hop! It's a lot less together and a lot more athletic (if that's possible). I think I've come away with an understanding of where my dances are coming from and an appreciation for what I'm doing in comparison to the 'classic' versions.

Don't Drop the Bomb

This past Sunday was another lovely evening at the Indiana Roof Ballroom. As always, the venue was perfect – walking through the doors of the Roof just gives you a sense of peace, a kind of days-gone-by ease of mind. We always arrive early and when first step out onto the hardwood I feel the tension drop about three notches.

Maybe it’s the subdued lighting. It’s a little like walking into the last rays of evening with the day behind you, the stars just starting to show through the violet-tinged sky, and a chorus of crickets warming up for the night’s performance (this Sunday that chorus was the horn section of the Lonny Lynn Orchestra limbering up their lips). Maybe it’s the way a historic venue like the Roof rhymes with my personal taste – I swear in another lifetime I must have spent most of my time hanging around the dancehall. Who knows what the real answer is, all I can say is that for me things are just that much better on the dance floor.

The Lonny Lynn Orchestra was…mediocre. They were on key but their selections weren’t suited to my particular taste for faster swing tunes and dreamier foxtrots. Apparently Mr. Lynn loves the foxtrot, though – the balance of his program ranged from draggy to spritely foxtrots from the 40’s and 50’s. They did throw in a bit of Latin music but strictly as an afterthought and with a version of Tequila that was slow enough to make Dan Flores (its author) cry and order something a little stronger.

But the so-so music wasn’t the thing that will stay with me. No, there is a horrific memory that I will relive possibly for the rest of my life.

About half way through the evening my dear wife and I were enjoying one of the few up-tempo swings the band pulled off. We were tripling with glee, right in the middle of the venerable dance floor surrounded by some people who probably were nearly old enough to remember its heyday when…it happened.

I came out of a figure-eight and right into a low-lying cloud of noxious gas. You know the type? The kind that not only makes your eyes water but seems to follow you around to maximize its lethality? I don’t know which of the (quite literally) old farts around us passed the gas but there’s definitely a dance law that needs to be stated here:

If you are about to soil your underwear, have the freaking decency to leave the dance floor and do it in private!

To this end I’d like to recommend a few changes to the Roof’s catering menu:

No more broccoli in the curette platters.
No more BBQ meatballs.
No more cheese platters.

Yes, that cuts down on at least one of my favorites but for the safety of those out on the dance floor I think I can manage the sacrifice.

Dance Politics

The political gamesmanship that I’ve been witnessing on television has me thinking – and this time something other than my usual, ‘who the heck do these morons think they’re talking to’. Ever since I started dancing I’ve started thinking in dance terms. First it was just noticing what sort of dance steps would go with some of my favorite tunes. Later I found myself recognizing what sorts of dances went with just about any music whether it be the tune behind a McDonald’s commercial or the bubblegum pop tune playing at the mall. I guess that was predictable – a big part of being able to dance is being able to recognize what dance you should be doing. But as time has worn on I started thinking stranger things…like what kind of dances would all these knuckle-head politicians do?

So, being the sort who goes in for baseless speculation, I thought I’d step up and…well…speculate baselessly. It’s a short list of big names but, hey, I’ve got a short attention span.

George W. Bush

Favorite Tune: Pop Goes the Weasle

Dance Partner: Barney the Purple Dinosaur

I’m thinking Hokey-Pokey. In spite of my political affiliations, it’s not because I see him sticking a left foot in and a left foot out when it comes to whether there are or aren’t timelines in Iraq or whether he will or wont negotiate with ‘axis of evil’ nations like North Korea. It’s simply because when I look into his eyes I see the expression of a kindergartener – one of the kindergarteners who’s having problems understanding how to color inside the lines and share toys with the other kids on the playground. I think he’d definitely need someone telling him what to do, when to do it, and when to stop doing it.

Dick Cheney

Favorite Tune: The Funerary March

Dance Partner: Satan

See Dick dance? No, of course not – what, are you crazy? Could you imagine Darth Vader dancing? How about Charles Manson? Well, then what about Richard Nixon? So, if you can't imagine any of them dancing why would you be able to imagine a fellow who's a combo of all three doing it? Well – okay, maybe there’s a dance that involves guns…that dance he would do but only if he got to shoot his partner in the face when the music stopped.

Condoleezza Rice

Favorite Tune: Cell Block Tango

Dance Parter: Her Own Shadow

Condie, I think, is a flamenco woman – because it’s a dance that’s done alone. Sorry, I just can’t picture her with a partner. I try – I close my eyes and try to think of her dancing the cha-cha or rumba but in the end her arms are always empty. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve got teeth like a rake. For the love of god, Condie get some dental surgery! I’m sure the White House dental plan will cover veneers and braces!

John McCain

Favorite Tune: Roll Out the Barrel

Partner: Inga or maybe Heidi

Deep down inside I know John wants to do the polka. Look at that face and what do you see? Bratwurst, mustard, and about twelve pounds of saurkraut washed down with a cold one. With a wife who owns one of the biggest Budweiser distributers in the US can you really blame him? And think about it, the polka is a dance that can be done to a traditional tune that’s actually named after a barrel of beer. Also I keep seeing John in one of those funny Moose Lodge-style fezzes and a nice robe with Grand Poobah embroidered on the back – but that’s probably just me.

Barack Obama

Favorite Tune: Funky Town

Dance Partner: The Press

So far it’s been a challenge to envision any of these jokers actually dancing – but when I came to Barack that changed. West Coast Swing, no question about it. It’s funky but not too animated and though Barack can deliver a speech that rouses the masses I can’t really see him jumping around enough to get into ECS. Plus WCS goes so damn well with Chicago Blues.

Hillary Clinton

Favorite Tune: I Am Woman

Dance Partner: Bill (if he'll get his hands out of the waitress' pants)
Ever been to a Dead concert? Ever encounter that gal, the one wearing the store-bought tie-dye who’s desperately trying to get into drums and space but has no freaking idea what the hell is going on? That’s Hillary. I can see her standing as far from the ‘scary hippies’ as possible while trying to fit in at the same time. That means the dance I can see Hillary doing is a really bad rendition of that kinda’ hippie non-dance you see in every documentary about the Summer of Love.

Bill Clinton

Favorite Tune: Austin Power's Theme

Dance Partner: What are you doing tonight?

Bill plays the sax but that doesn’t earn him an invite to the swing club. Instead I imagine him being into the close dances – foxtrot and rumba. If he wasn't so old I'd say lambada just because of the filth factor. In any case, when he’s in the middle of the dance, I imagine him grabbing his partner’s ass – or maybe the ass of somebody else’s partner. Just a casual reach over and honk-honk...and then when the commotion breaks out I see him swearing he never did anything to ‘that woman’.

That’s where my foray stops. Hey, I didn’t want to start getting down into the gubernatorial level because nobody knows those losers. Anyway, I’ve got other things to focus on – like what dances would Olympic athletes do…

Rockabilly

You might have detected a slight change in the music selection for Blue Suede Souls. Yes, we've still got the classic, 30's and 40's swing tunes but we've also added a selection from the 50's…music that's (in contemporary times) called 'rockabilly'. Since we attended Terry Lee's show at Mike's Dance Barn back in June, we've been dying to learn some sort of dance that's fast enough for the music of Jerry Lee Lewis. Sure, you can bend a Lindy Hop to fit - but for these increasingly old bones that's a hell of a bend to get around and my tires wind up in the ditch almost as much as they stay on the road. For a long time we sweated it and just tried to get faster - and then we (and by 'we' I mean my lovely wife) came across some information on the web about rockabilly swing.

Rockabilly is somewhat synonymous with jive and jitterbug - jive is less stylized and more tangoy and jitterbugging is a closed-position version of rockabilly swing. In short - take a fast 4/4 beat and break it down to a 1-and-2 -and-1-and-2 count. You've now cut the speed in half which lets you dance really fast tunes. The problem is rockabilly swing is just as hard as Lindy Hop (maybe harder) and it's different than anything we've been doing. We've been following Ms. Wolfe's Swing Course on DVD which is good for a start and we've got Kav Kavenaugh's higher octane Aussie rockabilly moves.

We've been making really good progress on rockabilly during August. We've got the basic, rotating basic, Statue of Liberty, Flat-hand push, and washing machine and I'm hoping by September we'll be ready to take it out on the road and give it a real test drive. In the meantime - check out the pros.

July in a Nutshell

Sorry to say I've been slacking off on my writing. I'll give the standard excuses: work's been crazy, time's been short, and I've been busy with a lot of stuff. To tell the truth there probably were several chances to sit down to write an entry but I just didn't do it. Confession is good for the soul, right?

Anyway, July was great - slower in terms of dancing than most months but I think that's because (in the modern era) people view summer as a time to 'go do things outside' which precludes dancing. For Kelly and I, not so much. We'd happily spend our summer on the dance floor…if there were more dances to attend. I sweat whenever I dance, it doesn't matter if its summer, fall, or the middle of the winter I'll be dabbing my forehead with a handkerchief between tunes.

July in retrospect? We attended a dance at the Riolo on the Fourth - it's a great venue for an Independence Day dance. The Riolo is surrounded by great windows that offer views of the city and, in this case, the annual downtown fireworks display. The evening was well arranged - dancing up to just before the fireworks and then easy, air-conditioned viewing from the studio without having to fight the crowds. My only complaint was the fact that the Riolo's usual (free) parking lot was closed and we were forced to pay for parking.

During July we also started to pick up two new dances and we dropped one that we just didn't like so much. The newcomers to our ever-growing dance card are the West Coast Swing and the Cha-Cha. These are two dances I'd recommend to anyone who's decided that they want to learn to dance and they plan on attending ballroom or swing dances such as those held at the Starlight Ballroom or Indiana Roof Ballroom. In the past we always sat out cha-chas and WCS - but when you're at a ballroom dance that (especially the cha-cha) means you're sitting quite a bit. Picking up these two dances means that we'll be able to enjoy more of the music from the dance floor and less from the sidelines.

The victim of downsizing? That'd be the Hustle. I have to say I never did really like the hustle. There was all that 1970-something baggage and too many visions of John Travolta in a polyester leisure suit with a half-unbuttoned fly-away collar shirt and a gold medallion. Not exactly the kind of image I wanted to portray in clothing or in dance styling. There also was the realization that about 90% of the tunes we danced the hustle to we could also dance either WCS or cha-cha. The math was easy.

So, that was July. Now, to write about August without falling behind!

Night Life

I love the night life, I got to boogie

If you know what song this comes from we are about the same age, and you know what I mean. I will explain to those younger and older. It means dressing up in cute dresses, sky high heels, big hair and sparkly makeup, and going out on the town. Even though my girlfriends and I all typified ourselves as "country rockers", we dressed flashy. I still miss the sparkly makeup, sigh. We'd spend hours primping and then go out to several bars talking, drinking, dancing, and scoping out men, not necessarily in that order. As I've stated in other posts, how I ever danced in those heels amaze me now, even though the "dancing" consisted of mostly hopping up and down. Still.

After I got older, I slowed down a bit. It just didn't interest me as much. I don't think I wasted my time; I had fun and wouldn't give up those years for anything. But, things change, and I shifted into different priorities. My younger self would shake her head in sorrow at how fast I can get ready now, and tsk tsk at my short locks and natural make up. I still love my clothes and such, don't get me wrong, but I do spend less time now getting ready and more time dancing.

I also quit drinking as much, not for any moral reason, but because as I got older it made me feel bad the next day, it was expensive, and again, I decided I'd rather be doing other things. After we learned to dance I discovered something else. Dancing does not go well with drinking. One glass of wine fine, two I start to miss cues, and three...forgetaboutit. After I thought about it I realized in no other sport would I start with a glass of wine, so for the most part I don't drink at all before or during a dance.

A nice glass of wine afterwards, well, that's a different story.

So back to the night life. Gary and I now are often out very late at night, as most dances don't start until 8 or 9. Funny. I started my young adult life staying out very late. After I got married "late" was maybe 9. Now that we are dancers we often stay out until the wee hours. Funny how life circles around, yet is different every time. Kinda like fashion. :-)

Please don't talk about love tonight.
Please don't talk about sweet love.
Please don't talk about being true
and all the trouble we've been through.
Ah, please don't talk about all of the plans
we had for fixin' this broken romance.
I want to go where the people dance.
I want some action ... I want to live!

Oh, I ... Ohhh I ... I love the nightlife,
I got to boogie .
Oh, I love the night life,I got to boogie

The Good Old Days Weren't All Good

The Good Old Days Weren't All Good

The other day I'm sittin' with a guy who grew up in the 30's and the subject of dancing comes around. I tell him that I like the big bands and I can only imagine what it must have been like for a guy like him - coming up in the era of swing, Basie, an every town having a ballroom or dancehall. He shook his head and chuckled knowingly before giving me the skinny.

It seems like those of us who dance are just about like everyone else when it comes to assuming that things were better way back when. It's a kind of nostalgia trance we all go into from time to time…usually when our job or government gets us down. Maybe you catch an episode of Andy Griffith or I Love Lucy and you find yourself falling under the black-and-white spell - oh that simpler time, wasn't life just grand way back when?

Well, not really. You see Puritanism was alive and well in the 30's - that ought to be obvious from the existence of prohibition. Many small towns across the Midwest (and many large cities) had laws banning dancing because it was a doorway to vice and amoral behavior. In reality anti-dancing laws came from a deeper root in American history. In New England, colonial inns and taverns were banned from providing 'performances of Shakespeare and other dramatic presentations to puppet shows, sleight-of-hand, magic and ventriloquism, tight rope walking, juggling, trick riding, animal exhibitions, and acrobatics' and traveling entertainers were lumped in the same legal category as beggars, rogues, and wandering preachers.

Sure, some of the dance bans were a little more specific. Washington State enacted a ban against dance marathons in 1937 - it wasn't repealed until 1987. In Reno, Nevada it's still illegal to hold a dance marathon - and a walking marathon too. I'm not sure if dancing in marathon format is more salacious or if there's just a fear that twenty-six mile long dance floors will be showing up and impeding other development…or maybe the folks who write these laws are just morons.

You're probably thinking, 'Gee, DC - it's a good thing I live in the modern era (and in a state where marrying first cousins isn't legal) when I can dance wherever I want with whoever I like…'. Get a grip, bright-eyes - it ain't exactly so. In February 2007 New York City upheld a ban on dancing in establishments without a license that permits dancing. Can you imagine that? Your local tavern needs to have a dance license just in case someone feels like shagging to a band that catches their fancy? And, heaven forbid, in that behemoth city of New York that likes to consider itself far ahead of the social curve to which the rest of the nation bends.

Well, you can take heart in the fact that at least it's better than it used to be - in some places.

Dance Masters Grand Opening

On June 27, 2008 the doors of Dance Masters new Southport facility opened with a thunderstorm and the rhythm of swing music. It's been a long time coming - Mark and Melissa have deserved a space that is more suited to their craft and now they have just that. The place is lovely: a main dance floor with several smaller and private studios for lessons and even a kitchenette for the staff. But, as with any venue, the sum total of the place is more than a physical space.

There's got to be a kind of energy - maybe it's some kind of ley line thing that permeates the structure and infuses it with the right party mojo. The energy manifests itself differently at every venue. Sometimes it’s raucous and exuberant to the point that a venue becomes like Fountain Square, inaccessible to some because of its wild popularity. Other times the energy manifest itself in an almost stately manner, turning a venue into an Indiana Roof where some feel too awed to get on the floor. The problem for a dance studio is that to be effective, both those extremes need to be avoided so that the students will be able to make the most out of their instruction.

My first blush impression is that Dance Masters new studio will do just fine on the energy account. There were glitches last night - a sound system that wanted to cut out at random intervals and a floor that hasn't been broken in - but the feeling was there. And, when you throw in two owners with the talent and dance-wisdom of Mark and Melissa, it's hard to imagine the new studio turning into anything but a success.

Congratulations Mark and Melissa - may your new studio bring you new opportunities and open new frontiers in dancing.

The Ghost of Stephen Foster

Just a short note tonight - I've been spending a little time cruising the slums of YouTube, checking out the swing, Lindy, and rockabilly there and getting ideas to incorporate into our dance. I came across this little ditty by the infamous Squirrel Nut Zippers and the melody got stuck in my head. I'm just hoping that putting it on the web will get it out!

In Praise of Melissa (Again)

Tonight was yet another Roof dance. It was nice to be back, a lovely caption to a very dance filled weekend.

When we started to dance, I knew Gary and I would love our dance teacher, Melissa. I knew it because my sister Quinn loves her, and hey, that's good enough for me. Melissa has over and over exceed our expectations, and even teaches us in a way that is not the ballroom norm, learning dances and fixing steps we gather in our travels that are not in her traditional dance card..
Yeah, you're thinking, we know all this...you've said it all before. OK, yes I have. But what I have also discovered as we've been dancing out more is that Melissa and her husband Mark are even more fabulous dancers than I realized at first. Of course I knew they were good. But seeing OTHER pros dance makes me realize Mark and Melissa have something most professionals do not.
First and foremost, what I notice most about most pros is that that seem to me to have an affected, "icy" style. Yes, they have smiles pasted on their faces. Yes they execute with precision and flair. But they have no style! Well, perhaps I should say I don't care for their style, all flicky wrists and mincy steps, they kinda look like robots to me. Not Melissa and Mark. They execute as well as the before mentioned couples, but they ALSO have a warmth and sensuality that radiates out across the dance floor.

Also, although they are a joy to watch, they don't make others feel inadequate. I don't know how they do this because they are so good. Maybe because their dancing has a quiet beauty, not a loud shout.

Melissa and Mark are like the gorgeous girl next door, very lovely but also easy to talk to...as opposed to the cold beauty of some of the young starlets nowadays. Mark and Melissa shimmer like fine satin as opposed to sequiny sparkle. And the love they feel for one another glimmers back and forth between them.

Ultimately perhaps that's why they dance the way they do. And while I will probably never reach their lofty heights, Gary and I do share that aspect with Mark and Melissa. And in that way perhaps we can strive to emulate them.