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.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
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. :-)
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. :-)
Saturday, August 16, 2008
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.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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!
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 McCainFavorite 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.
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 ObamaFavorite 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.
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
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…
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…
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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.
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!
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!
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