This is not a dance post in the purest sense, but dancing can't exist without music, well, I guess it can but not in my book. Anyway, here is a very cool music toy. Beware: it is addicting.
http://lab.andre-michelle.com/tonematrix
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Dancing at the Indianapolis Scottish Rite Cathedral
She hovered at the bottom of the stone steps as the sun’s final rays vanished behind the massive structure. Her eyes swept across the jutting spires, arched windows, and stained glass. The building was lovely, yet mysterious. As if to confirm her trepidations, the wind whipped her coat undone chilling exposed flesh. The ball gown was lovely, but not practical for a night such as this.
She ran to the door and heaved it open. Terrifying beasts cavorted around the lintel. Strange symbols ran along the ceiling once she had entered. Her heart beat fast. He was supposed to meet her in the lobby.
Suddenly the door creaked and a man entered. She sucked in her breath. Tall, dark, and handsome, wearing a black hat and elegant grey coat, he was everything she’d hoped for.
He smiled. “Are you..”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He took her hand and led her into the ballroom. The space was layered in warm wood graced with delicate paintings and fixtures. The band played soft inviting music. He took her into his arms and whirled her around and around. She looked up: a huge chandelier dripped sparkling light over them. Enchantment was in the air.
She gazed into his eyes, knowing this night would be magical.
And it was. Sigh.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
More En Clave
En Clave rhythm dancing or Puerto Rican style salsa is hard to find on You Tube. Or maybe it's because I still don't know exactly what I'm looking for. However, I did find some couples dancing it, only because I searched on a song that has a strong clave beat by Ray Barreto titled Acid.
And I found a perfect example. This couple is not the best I found, but since they are still learning they are not going at break neck speed so you can see what they are doing. The beat is clear...and tap tap and tap tap tap, or 1 2 and 1 2 3. Of course, in practice it's not that robotic. Which is why I love this style so much.
For lack of a better word, "regular" salsa, wherever you break it, is essentially three beats and a hold. It has a marching feel, although that is less obvious when good dancers are doing it. Because the clave rhythm is 2-3, it has a sinuous, smooth feeling. Some of the patterns remind me of WCS.
Here's the video. Listen to the beat and watch this couple swing in and out. I love it.
And I found a perfect example. This couple is not the best I found, but since they are still learning they are not going at break neck speed so you can see what they are doing. The beat is clear...and tap tap and tap tap tap, or 1 2 and 1 2 3. Of course, in practice it's not that robotic. Which is why I love this style so much.
For lack of a better word, "regular" salsa, wherever you break it, is essentially three beats and a hold. It has a marching feel, although that is less obvious when good dancers are doing it. Because the clave rhythm is 2-3, it has a sinuous, smooth feeling. Some of the patterns remind me of WCS.
Here's the video. Listen to the beat and watch this couple swing in and out. I love it.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
What Ho Jeeves...
During the day's travels I came across a fun dance quote...
“Curse all dancing chauffeurs! What on earth does a chauffeur want to dance for? I mistrusted that man from the start. Something told me he was a dancer. Well, this finishes it. We’re out here till breakfast-time. If those blasted servants come back before eight o’clock, I shall be vastly surprised. You won’t get Seppings away from a dance till you throw him out. I know him. The jazz’ll go to his head, and he’ll stand clapping and demanding encores till his hands blister. Dam all dancing butlers! What is Brinkley Court? A respectable English country house or a crimson dancing school?”
P. G. Wodehouse, What Ho, Jeeves
“Curse all dancing chauffeurs! What on earth does a chauffeur want to dance for? I mistrusted that man from the start. Something told me he was a dancer. Well, this finishes it. We’re out here till breakfast-time. If those blasted servants come back before eight o’clock, I shall be vastly surprised. You won’t get Seppings away from a dance till you throw him out. I know him. The jazz’ll go to his head, and he’ll stand clapping and demanding encores till his hands blister. Dam all dancing butlers! What is Brinkley Court? A respectable English country house or a crimson dancing school?”
P. G. Wodehouse, What Ho, Jeeves
Afro-Cuban Insurrection
Afro-Cuban rhythm is kicking my butt at the moment. I grew up in what can only be generously called suburban America during the wasteland of the 70’s when homogenized disco ruled the airwaves and polyester clad sales reps poisoned dance floors with their own personal funky chicken funk. Put simply, 4/4 tempo pretty much was all I experienced.
When disco died and rock and roll returned it was the Motor City variety: Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, and the like. Still 4/4 timing, still homogenous, and worse yet – dance had almost died at the hands of the polyester menace.
The 80’s and 90’s passed with dance totally out of the mainstream. When I finally got up the desire to learn to dance I went through the most typical channel for new dancers: ballroom. It was an awakening – I discovered rumba, cha-cha, and salsa and the Latino world of dance opened its mahogany doors.
Since then, we’ve veered mostly toward the world of swing. It’s the music both Kelly and I love not to mention one of the most common types played at the dances we attend. But the Latin rhythm has always lingered, waiting for an opportunity to be expressed. As Kelly mentioned in her previous posts that opportunity came in the past few weeks.
In the coming weeks I’ll get into the roots of Afro-Cuban rhythm and all the sundry arguments that surround its origin and implications. For this post just let me say the rhythmic structure essentially is 1-2 and 1-2-3 with the ‘and’ representing a pause. It’s also called the clave style – if you’re listening to a salsa tune and you hear the clave in the rhythm section, that’s the beat I’m talking about. The thing is, clave is present in most Latin music – but it’s buried, it flows under the music like an underground stream and you have to douse to follow its motion. American ears aren’t naturally attuned to this sort of rhythmic introspection. We like our beats fat and up front – SUV beats with chrome rims, air conditioning, and fold-down rear seats. Clave shows up at corner cafes, wearing shades and sipping strong coffee late into the night. Americans don’t trust that sort of beat – we get suspicious; there’s danger of dance insurrection in its casually halting way.
When disco died and rock and roll returned it was the Motor City variety: Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, and the like. Still 4/4 timing, still homogenous, and worse yet – dance had almost died at the hands of the polyester menace.
The 80’s and 90’s passed with dance totally out of the mainstream. When I finally got up the desire to learn to dance I went through the most typical channel for new dancers: ballroom. It was an awakening – I discovered rumba, cha-cha, and salsa and the Latino world of dance opened its mahogany doors.
Since then, we’ve veered mostly toward the world of swing. It’s the music both Kelly and I love not to mention one of the most common types played at the dances we attend. But the Latin rhythm has always lingered, waiting for an opportunity to be expressed. As Kelly mentioned in her previous posts that opportunity came in the past few weeks.
In the coming weeks I’ll get into the roots of Afro-Cuban rhythm and all the sundry arguments that surround its origin and implications. For this post just let me say the rhythmic structure essentially is 1-2 and 1-2-3 with the ‘and’ representing a pause. It’s also called the clave style – if you’re listening to a salsa tune and you hear the clave in the rhythm section, that’s the beat I’m talking about. The thing is, clave is present in most Latin music – but it’s buried, it flows under the music like an underground stream and you have to douse to follow its motion. American ears aren’t naturally attuned to this sort of rhythmic introspection. We like our beats fat and up front – SUV beats with chrome rims, air conditioning, and fold-down rear seats. Clave shows up at corner cafes, wearing shades and sipping strong coffee late into the night. Americans don’t trust that sort of beat – we get suspicious; there’s danger of dance insurrection in its casually halting way.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Unexpected Delight
My brother-in-law Ralph has a favorite quote that says something like life is a series of unexpected events. Unexpected, of course, can be good, or it can be bad.
This unexpected event was a good one. We are going back to our studio with a new understanding of each other. In a nutshell, our studio is allowing us to be us! And allowing is not the right word; they are going to TEACH us to be more us, if that makes sense. Not that we didn’t get some of that before, but Gary and I both felt we were the walking the line, as my mom used to say. Now we feel embraced.
And this, ladies and gentleman, is from a ballroom studio. Gary and I are both so impressed. We always knew Melissa was the Best Teacher In The World. But now…could it be that the studio could also merit that title?
I knew this year was going to be a doozy as far as our dancing goes, but we could have never have predicted this. Will we still experiment with other studios? Yes. For one thing, we can’t expect our instructor, fabulous as she is, to learn every dance we want to learn. Second, we want to experience different teaching styles. Take the clave rhythm. I never ever thought I could learn by “feeling” the beat, but it turns out I can. And we both love learning a “street” style of salsa that is danced…on the streets of Puerto Rico. Maybe we'll go someday. And fit right in. Ha.
Anyway, I guess the lesson is you just never know.
The good part of all of this is that although painful, Gary and I now have a crystal clear vision of what we want and where we are going.
And now that we all have this new understanding, it is nice to have a dance central spot from which to radiate out from. Who else but Melissa is going to get “in our West Coast Cha we want more Latin” or teach us rockabilly? No one I know.
It feels like coming home.
This unexpected event was a good one. We are going back to our studio with a new understanding of each other. In a nutshell, our studio is allowing us to be us! And allowing is not the right word; they are going to TEACH us to be more us, if that makes sense. Not that we didn’t get some of that before, but Gary and I both felt we were the walking the line, as my mom used to say. Now we feel embraced.
And this, ladies and gentleman, is from a ballroom studio. Gary and I are both so impressed. We always knew Melissa was the Best Teacher In The World. But now…could it be that the studio could also merit that title?
I knew this year was going to be a doozy as far as our dancing goes, but we could have never have predicted this. Will we still experiment with other studios? Yes. For one thing, we can’t expect our instructor, fabulous as she is, to learn every dance we want to learn. Second, we want to experience different teaching styles. Take the clave rhythm. I never ever thought I could learn by “feeling” the beat, but it turns out I can. And we both love learning a “street” style of salsa that is danced…on the streets of Puerto Rico. Maybe we'll go someday. And fit right in. Ha.
Anyway, I guess the lesson is you just never know.
The good part of all of this is that although painful, Gary and I now have a crystal clear vision of what we want and where we are going.
And now that we all have this new understanding, it is nice to have a dance central spot from which to radiate out from. Who else but Melissa is going to get “in our West Coast Cha we want more Latin” or teach us rockabilly? No one I know.
It feels like coming home.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
En Clave
It means “the key” in Spanish. Clave sticks are used to keep the rhythm in Latin music. Used within dancing, it means dancing inside the music as opposed to outside the music. Huh? Is that sorta like Chevy Chase’s “be of the game not in the game?”
I think so. But I’m not sure yet. Which is exhilarating. And scary.
Gary and I had our first dance lesson at the Organic Rhythms Studio here in Indy (link below). We had seen the owner, Shayne Carter, dance in a couple of videos and fell in love with the style. We didn’t know what that style was, but we wanted it.
So we pulled up to the studio: a karate business. Humm. They all shared a space. But…you are not paying for an independent studio. You are paying for dance lessons. Period. The upside, of course, is that our lesson was much cheaper and longer than our ballroom lesson. We walked in and followed the Latin music to a large plain room. It wasn’t fancy, but it was bright and clean. Then our teacher, Shayne, walked in. She flashed a big smile and had a warmth that radiated about two feet from her body. So far so good.
She shook our hands and immediately started with something called the clave rhythm. With no numbers. Arrgghhh!!! But after I got over my fear, I found I could indeed learn with her clapping the beat. The clave step pattern is…hard. It’s syncopated. But oh so sexy. Your hips naturally move when you are doing it correctly. And if does feel as though you are entering the soul of the music. I had chills.
Then she showed us another form of Puerto Rican style salsa (not only are there millions of styles of salsa, there are ALSO many timing variations within each of those styles. Eek.) This timing was similar to ballroom salsa, except it breaks differently. Again, this felt natural and sensuous.
She could tell we already knew how to dance and (I think) probably adjusted her teaching. She went pretty fast. Needless to say, we do not in any way shape or form “have” the clave down, but we will.
Near the end of the lesson she stated that although she was particular about first learning the basics, after that she encouraged free expression and pushed students to experiment and develop their own style. Gary and I grinned at each other.
Ahhhhhhhh.
Do I wish I’d started here? No. First, I just don’t think I’m a natural enough dancer to have gotten, say, the clave my first time out. I probably would have run out gibbering. Second, ballroom instruction gave us a taste of all different kinds of dance. We learned just enough ballroom salsa to know we wanted to learn the salsa, for example. Third, ballroom gives you a solid understanding of timing, movement, and dance history. I don’t recommend everyone start with ballroom dancing, but I’m sure glad we did.
Here is Bobby Sanabria drumming the clave beat. It feels to me like the blood pounding through your body. Fabulous. And some history too.
http://www.organic-rhythms.com/index.html
I think so. But I’m not sure yet. Which is exhilarating. And scary.
Gary and I had our first dance lesson at the Organic Rhythms Studio here in Indy (link below). We had seen the owner, Shayne Carter, dance in a couple of videos and fell in love with the style. We didn’t know what that style was, but we wanted it.
So we pulled up to the studio: a karate business. Humm. They all shared a space. But…you are not paying for an independent studio. You are paying for dance lessons. Period. The upside, of course, is that our lesson was much cheaper and longer than our ballroom lesson. We walked in and followed the Latin music to a large plain room. It wasn’t fancy, but it was bright and clean. Then our teacher, Shayne, walked in. She flashed a big smile and had a warmth that radiated about two feet from her body. So far so good.
She shook our hands and immediately started with something called the clave rhythm. With no numbers. Arrgghhh!!! But after I got over my fear, I found I could indeed learn with her clapping the beat. The clave step pattern is…hard. It’s syncopated. But oh so sexy. Your hips naturally move when you are doing it correctly. And if does feel as though you are entering the soul of the music. I had chills.
Then she showed us another form of Puerto Rican style salsa (not only are there millions of styles of salsa, there are ALSO many timing variations within each of those styles. Eek.) This timing was similar to ballroom salsa, except it breaks differently. Again, this felt natural and sensuous.
She could tell we already knew how to dance and (I think) probably adjusted her teaching. She went pretty fast. Needless to say, we do not in any way shape or form “have” the clave down, but we will.
Near the end of the lesson she stated that although she was particular about first learning the basics, after that she encouraged free expression and pushed students to experiment and develop their own style. Gary and I grinned at each other.
Ahhhhhhhh.
Do I wish I’d started here? No. First, I just don’t think I’m a natural enough dancer to have gotten, say, the clave my first time out. I probably would have run out gibbering. Second, ballroom instruction gave us a taste of all different kinds of dance. We learned just enough ballroom salsa to know we wanted to learn the salsa, for example. Third, ballroom gives you a solid understanding of timing, movement, and dance history. I don’t recommend everyone start with ballroom dancing, but I’m sure glad we did.
Here is Bobby Sanabria drumming the clave beat. It feels to me like the blood pounding through your body. Fabulous. And some history too.
http://www.organic-rhythms.com/index.html
Monday, January 4, 2010
Save a Dancehall
Today I had another reminder just how lucky I am to have a place like the Indiana Roof Ballroom to dance. I’m a fairly religious NPR listener and one of my favorite shows is Morning Edition. Happenstance would have it that this morning, while driving to work, I caught a story on an organization that’s trying to rescue the historic dance halls of Texas. The story was a beautiful thing – a man with money saw Sengelman Hall, a Schulenburg, TX and he saw more than a moldering building that’d been sitting more or less vacant since the 40’s. He saw a piece of the soul of the town dying and he started resuscitation. Now, after two years of hard work a nearly 100 year old dance floor is feeling the feet of new generations.
Maybe I’m a member of some weird religion or maybe I just go in for anthropomorphizing but I’m certain that a building has a soul. That soul is a composite of all the people who’ve been there and all their experiences they’ve had while there. So an IRS or Dentist’s office probably are karmic black holes – filled the pain and fear. Maybe some part of the heebie-jeebies you get when you go to the DMV is because of the yuck that’s been poured into the woodwork.
What about a dancehall? Imagine a immigrant from Germany who comes to America in the 1800’s, leaving everything he knows behind in search of a better life and more opportunity. He takes the only job he can get – it’s low paying and back breaking – and after putting in another week of hard labor he finds himself on Main Street of the little town that’s his new home. He’s strolling down the street, even the signs are in a language he barely speaks – and then he hears the sound of a polka band. He follows the sound until it leads him to a brightly lit marquee and after paying the entry fee he’s immersed in the music he remembers from the old country and surrounded by other people who speak his language and for a moment he’s not an outsider and life is easier. Multiply that by a four or five hundred people and sixty or seventy years and envision the joy that might soak into the walls of an old dancehall.
I advocate dancing for the enjoyment of dancing. That’s the only reason to dance – for fun. But, if you need another reason to dance, saving your local dancehall is a pretty darn good one.
Maybe I’m a member of some weird religion or maybe I just go in for anthropomorphizing but I’m certain that a building has a soul. That soul is a composite of all the people who’ve been there and all their experiences they’ve had while there. So an IRS or Dentist’s office probably are karmic black holes – filled the pain and fear. Maybe some part of the heebie-jeebies you get when you go to the DMV is because of the yuck that’s been poured into the woodwork.
What about a dancehall? Imagine a immigrant from Germany who comes to America in the 1800’s, leaving everything he knows behind in search of a better life and more opportunity. He takes the only job he can get – it’s low paying and back breaking – and after putting in another week of hard labor he finds himself on Main Street of the little town that’s his new home. He’s strolling down the street, even the signs are in a language he barely speaks – and then he hears the sound of a polka band. He follows the sound until it leads him to a brightly lit marquee and after paying the entry fee he’s immersed in the music he remembers from the old country and surrounded by other people who speak his language and for a moment he’s not an outsider and life is easier. Multiply that by a four or five hundred people and sixty or seventy years and envision the joy that might soak into the walls of an old dancehall.
I advocate dancing for the enjoyment of dancing. That’s the only reason to dance – for fun. But, if you need another reason to dance, saving your local dancehall is a pretty darn good one.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Happy 2010
So, now I’m sitting in Kelly’s office hammering out a brief report. The PC will be back tomorrow and (barring the unforeseen) I’ll put up another part of my Bop tutorial as well as getting back to the usual writing about dancing and dance life.
I’m sure Kelly’s told everyone that New Year’s Eve at the South Side Moose absolutely rocked. There were some hitches but, having experienced the complications of cocktail parties for 20-30 guests I’d be surprised if there weren’t a few goofs. Still, even having the host never call our table for the buffet and having no bottle opener for capped champagne bottles that they handed out at 5 till midnight, we had a great time.
We did the rockabilly swing twice and it came off great – and to at least one smoking-fast tune. We also just generally had a good time dancing. That’s the point, you know. It doesn’t matter a bit if you’re silver medal level, bronze medal level, or even freaking cubic zirconium level if you’re not having fun you’re not dancing. There’s a great New Year’s tradition: you should end the old year in a way that represents the way you want to spend your new year. We ended our year having a wonderful time on the dance floor – a good sign, I’d say.
Friday, January 1, 2010
A Wild and Wooly New Year’s Eve
Wooly because it was in a Moose club. Moose. Fur. Get it? Wild because…well, that’s the focus of this post.
I’ve written before that I very much enjoy what I call “dancing in the wild”; venues and events that attract various peoples, dances, and styles. Last night at the Greenwood Moose Club crystallized that feeling. Here are some pics. The first one is of us posing in a quiet corner. We are rather sweaty after a rousing rockabilly number, but happy.
Gary has written about the Moose organization in previous posts so I won’t go too much into that. Suffice to say they are fascinating organizations; a social club and a charitable organization, topped with a sprinkle of mysticism. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a prayer to “The Supreme Governor” before. Cool. They are also very welcoming. One of our dance clubs, The Indy Dancers, meets on the Moose dance floor a couple of times a month. The generous Moose members (would that be Meese?) invited our club to spend New Year’s Eve, and so my mom and dad (also ID members), my sister and her husband, my niece and nephew, and Gary (and me too) commandeered a table right by the polished hardwood.
The band, The Marlinaires, was very good. They played all kinds of music, including some fiddle numbers you couldn’t dance to, but that was OK. It was fun just listening. They also chose some non couple selections, such as a twist medley. My niece Ruthie and I burned up the floor. My body is screaming this morning from some low swivels, but it was SO worth it. We even worked in the Batusie, the Mashed Potato, and the Pony. Yes, I’m that old. But I can still do them. AND keep up with a seventeen year old. Ha.
From the first song out the floor was packed. Half way through some of the dancers seemed a bit lubricated. By the end of the evening parts of the space was, as Gary said, a scrum. But I didn’t mind that either.
Because despite the occasional stumbler, posse of wiggling women in a circle, and wild gyrations, dancing in the wild is my favorite way to go. Not saying I don’t love the elegant Roof or my club dances, but there is a whiff of artificiality to them. Why? Everyone “knows” how to dance. And that’s not real. Dancing in the wild mixes dancing levels, styles, and varieties. Yes, sometimes I wished I had more room. Less bumping. But in the end, it’s not MY dance floor…it belongs to everyone.
And with that feeling comes a freedom I don’t have anywhere else. I am completely uninhibited. Wild. Crazy. Fun loving.
And authentic. Dancing, in my opinion, is best expressed as a social pastime. Contests, competitions, routines, dancing clubs are all great, but they do not capture the essence of what dancing really means.
Do I become irritated when a slightly inebriated man steps on my toes? Yeah. But really, is that any worse than being jabbed by a ballroom arm flourish? At least the man grinned and apologized.
In the end, I’d rather dance in the wild. It’s just more fun. And that is the essence of why I dance. And to be with my man. But of course, that’s part of the fun.
Come on baby…let’s do the twist…
I’ve written before that I very much enjoy what I call “dancing in the wild”; venues and events that attract various peoples, dances, and styles. Last night at the Greenwood Moose Club crystallized that feeling. Here are some pics. The first one is of us posing in a quiet corner. We are rather sweaty after a rousing rockabilly number, but happy.
Next is my sister. Normally I am never this goofy. It's her fault.
My neice Ruthie and me doing a fast triple swing.
Mom and dad.
Gary has written about the Moose organization in previous posts so I won’t go too much into that. Suffice to say they are fascinating organizations; a social club and a charitable organization, topped with a sprinkle of mysticism. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a prayer to “The Supreme Governor” before. Cool. They are also very welcoming. One of our dance clubs, The Indy Dancers, meets on the Moose dance floor a couple of times a month. The generous Moose members (would that be Meese?) invited our club to spend New Year’s Eve, and so my mom and dad (also ID members), my sister and her husband, my niece and nephew, and Gary (and me too) commandeered a table right by the polished hardwood.
The band, The Marlinaires, was very good. They played all kinds of music, including some fiddle numbers you couldn’t dance to, but that was OK. It was fun just listening. They also chose some non couple selections, such as a twist medley. My niece Ruthie and I burned up the floor. My body is screaming this morning from some low swivels, but it was SO worth it. We even worked in the Batusie, the Mashed Potato, and the Pony. Yes, I’m that old. But I can still do them. AND keep up with a seventeen year old. Ha.
From the first song out the floor was packed. Half way through some of the dancers seemed a bit lubricated. By the end of the evening parts of the space was, as Gary said, a scrum. But I didn’t mind that either.
Because despite the occasional stumbler, posse of wiggling women in a circle, and wild gyrations, dancing in the wild is my favorite way to go. Not saying I don’t love the elegant Roof or my club dances, but there is a whiff of artificiality to them. Why? Everyone “knows” how to dance. And that’s not real. Dancing in the wild mixes dancing levels, styles, and varieties. Yes, sometimes I wished I had more room. Less bumping. But in the end, it’s not MY dance floor…it belongs to everyone.
And with that feeling comes a freedom I don’t have anywhere else. I am completely uninhibited. Wild. Crazy. Fun loving.
And authentic. Dancing, in my opinion, is best expressed as a social pastime. Contests, competitions, routines, dancing clubs are all great, but they do not capture the essence of what dancing really means.
Do I become irritated when a slightly inebriated man steps on my toes? Yeah. But really, is that any worse than being jabbed by a ballroom arm flourish? At least the man grinned and apologized.
In the end, I’d rather dance in the wild. It’s just more fun. And that is the essence of why I dance. And to be with my man. But of course, that’s part of the fun.
Come on baby…let’s do the twist…
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