Bei Mir Bistu Swing

He Goes:

I think of myself as having started dancing late. Now, late is relative, obviously: I read not too long ago that the poet Hadi Khorsandi had begun tap dancing lessons this year, at the age of 68. I've a little way to go before that, but it seems to me that I spent a long time working up to being a dancer without actually realising or admitting that that was what I was doing, and that if I had my time over again I might try not to waste so much of it.

Of course, what's past is prologue. If I'd started dancing when I was 15 rather than 35 I would not have been the same dancer that I am now. I might have been better, or I might have been so bad at it that I'd have been put off for life.

As it was, I lucked into an opportunity that sold dance to me. I shared an office with a ballroom dancer who was so into it that he set up free classes in the reception area at our workplace to teach his colleagues.

"Keith will come," he told one of our colleagues. He turned to face me. "You'll come, right?"

I shrugged.

"Can't hurt, I suppose."

I'd recently been learning martial arts, taught by my father-in-law, and I thought of ballroom dancing as an extension of this along the James Bond axis. I could beat up a spy one day, then seduce an ambassador's wife with a sensual tango the next.

The important thing to know about where I used to work is that it was staffed predominantly by physicists. I don't want to get too much into the hoary old routine of claiming that physicists lack social graces (let me just say that I hate the Big Bang Theory with the fury of a thousand suns), but I do have to admit - my male colleagues were not great dancers. Whether it was awkwardness with women, unfamiliarity with the location of their own hips, poor idea of rhythm or whatever else, I was one of the small handful of passable dancers. At some dances I was even the best. A brief dabbling with yoga had given me a better posture which in turn gained me some praise for my waltz.

...and I was sold. Once you're told you're good at something, it takes on a desirable sheen. It didn't hurt, either, I suppose, that I was popular with women for the duration of the class in a way that I'd never been outside of dance.

If this all sounds pretty shallow, I suppose it is. But it is nice to be praised, and it is nice to be popular with the sex you're attracted to, and it would be mad to say otherwise. But over the years, particularly since I've taken up swing dancing, the other, deeper benefits of dance have shown themselves, and it's clear that they were there all along.

Back in my teen years, when I was listening to music while reading in bed, I was a toe-tapper. That's the least a person can dance, but it's a connection to the music. I think of true dancers as people who are compulsive toe-tappers. My first Lindy evangelist, Lydia, I never once saw standing still. Even waiting in line she was tapping her toes, shuffling her feet, doing a little Charleston. At first I thought of it as just a charming idiosyncrasy, but as I danced more and more I came to realise that you can hold music in your head easily enough, and once you have an internal beat it's the most natural thing to do to let it escape to your feet.

There are the health benefits. I don't dance for my health, but it's no coincidence that in the first six months of swing dancing I lost fifteen kilos. I do other exercises - I cycle a lot, I run sometimes - but running is boring (I can only do it with a friend to talk to), and cycling is just the way I get around rather than something I particularly enjoy (I do quite enjoy it, but I choose to cycle to places I want to go, I don't usually just go out for a cycle for no purpose). Dance is an exercise that's intrinsically enjoyable. I don't have to focus on the end product to make it seem worthwhile, because the moment is what's important.

Well, I'm mainly a lead, so the next few moments are what's important, but.. eh.

I started dancing pretty much by accident, but I keep dancing for all of these reasons. As I've come out into the wider world of dance, I'm now no longer the most rhythmic fish in a small pool, instead I'm just one average fish in a big sea. But I still feel competent, I still like being able to impress women, I enjoy letting my feet - my body - go with the music, and I still have a form of exercise that I can enjoy rather than dread. On any given day - at any given dance - one or more of these motivations might be closer to the front of my mind than the others. But they're all there.

She Goes

Consider this your epic post warning.

Around the age of 13 I did Saturday morning dance club. Basic steps. Warm ups. Nothing special. I do remember this one warm for arms that was always done to a particular song- and whenever I hear it now I get overcome with a sort of misty eyed amusing nostalgia.

I sacked off the dance classes after a bit though, what teenaged girl wants to get up that early on a Saturday morning? Plus I knew I would always be stuck with the other kids shoved out of the house weekend mornings- and not like the graceful ones that came in gliding through their private lessons when our time was up. I really wanted to be them though. Poise, grace, and better songs!

Fast forwards a good few years and I decided that I would take up salsa with a friend. Having been single for a while, as had he, it seemed like a good idea to combine fitness, fun and hopefully meeting hotties. When both of us found someone outside of class, however, we didn't go back.

The choice of salsa never actually felt like a choice. It seemed like the obvious option- you want to do dance lessons? Clearly salsa is the way. London was gripped in salsa fever at the time...

I enjoyed it, learning to finally connect my brain to my feet in a more structured way. I learnt to follow, actually follow, and that was worth the salsa shoes that are bundled away somewhere, bleating mournfully. However it didn't capture my heart, salsa. Some of the music I listened to had Latin elements to it but I didn't feel the urge to immerse myself. I enjoyed the social aspect more. If it meant dealing with a strangers thigh between mine and occasionally dreadful music, so be it.

Around the time of salsa I had rediscovered a friend in London. He and his friend ran a northern soul night that coincided with salsa night every fortnight.

I have always loved soul, having grown up with my mother living Diana Ross and the like. I'd dipped back into it at uni with a well informed housemate and hadn't looked back.

So what was a girl to do?! I went to both nights. Salsa then soul. I loved the dancing at one and the music at another. I got into the northern soul style of dancing- shuffling about, all elbows and ankles. But it didn't capture my heart.

Musically I was inspired though. I devoured anything the boys put my way and went off on my own little tangents too. I remember one of them being surprised that I had already heard a song that he'd just played and I said, "I do listen to music when I'm not with you, you know!".... Spoony smackdown!

So where are we in this tale so far... Ah yes. A spoon with plenty of moves but none that feel right, and a music obsession keeping her toes tapping and her heart lifted.

In January this year I moved to New York. It's a long story, I have my own blog if you want more details, but I was essentially a single young lady with time on my hands.

I googled 'swing dance manhattan', clicked in the first link, and booked a spot on a 4hour Sunday taster. Why swing dance? That I honestly can't tell you. It just occurred to me. I looked at doing language courses fr a bit but nothing jumped out, and before I knew it I'd seen the links on the Dance Manhattan studio website and I was convinced it was what I wanted.

I emerged out of that taster high as a kite and with the receipt for a four week course clutched in my still-slightly-sweaty hand.

The rest is academic, really, I spent the rest of my time in NYC dancing as much as I could, making a social circle and learning at every opportunity. I was immersed. I had a dance partner and dance buddies.

And then I had to move back to London and make some difficult choices that meant I wasn't moving back any time soon. Heartbroken is the word. Gutted and miserable are others.

But once I'd stopped being angry and depressed about my geographical chaffage I set about finding dancing here.

Now, I'm a creature of habit in an extreme way, but I can lose habits as quickly as I can form them, if not more so. The fact that the urge to continue dancing was strong enough for me to act on it speaks volumes for how much it resonates with me. I came to it in NYC to lift my spirits and give me something to focus on- and I came back to it in London for the same reasons.

I've now been dancing in total for 9 months. Long enough to grow another human from scratch. That's also the time it takes a friend of mine to get through 72 boxes of crunchy nut cornflakes.

What keeps me coming back to dancing is still essentially the same as what got me started; to feel good and have something to bang on about. But it's also become more than that. Yes it's my main form of exercise, it's my main hobby, and on some weeks I spend more on dancing than I do on food.

The social element is the biggest factor for me though. I'm a social creature at heart, and it's always self affirming to find other people who share a passion for something. I've always tended to form friendship groups based around where I work, and when those circumstance change, inevitably, one must start from scratch. Again. And again. This time, however, I think I've found something to last.

This is the spoon, keeping the love. Over and out x

Gender Bending Ambidanceterousness AKA Going Both Ways

He Goes:

"Every time you use the words 'men and women' and 'leads and follows' interchangeably, god kills a kitten" - Fen K

In the tango salons of Buenos Aires it was not uncommon for male beginners to be required to begin their dance tuition as follows - only when they were deemed good enough as follows by their teachers were they allowed to progress on to learn the lead role. The idea of course was that only by understanding how the lead was supposed to feel could they hope to replicate it. Although Lindy did not originate (as tango did) as a male-male dance form, it's easy to see that the same benefits could be gained by a Lindy lead learning a follow's skills.

When I started Lindy-hopping it was perhaps a month before I saw my first male-male dance, and approximately ten seconds before I saw my first female-female dance. In contrast, the only male-male social dancing I've seen (and almost all of the female-female dancing I've seen) in ballroom was at dances loosely affiliated with LGBT dance groups. Like other dance forms, Lindy still suffers a little from an imbalance between men and women attending classes and socials, but Lindy seems to cope with it much better, because it's much easier to swap roles:

• Unlike Ballroom and Latin, there are only a limited number of foot patterns and basic moves. I still haven't finished learning things from beginner's classes, but I can easily swap to a follow position in a class and not feel like I'm missing out on important lead stuff. Similarly, women who normally follow can swap to taking a lead role without compromising their follow skills.
• Unlike Salsa, the relatively chaste hold of Lindy is easy enough to take up even between people that might not be amazingly comfortable with each other (and this includes different sex partners as well as same sex, of course). In classes as a follow I've only met two leads who were really freaked out by holding hands with another man (and said so), perhaps five or six more who were gritting their teeth and getting it over with but saying nothing. But you know what? They all got on with their leading, and we got through it.
• Also unlike Ballroom and Latin (and some salsa classes), most Lindy classes have a fairly strict and polished attitude to partner rotation in classes, which means that whoever you're partnered with you know you'll be moved on to a new partner in a moment.

I'd considered dancing as a follow for a while, and it was going to a class where one of the other more competent leads was a woman that made me think I should actually get off my arse and do it. I asked to lead me in a dance, and I discovered amazingly quickly that it was hard even to follow a rock-step. I am sturdy and bad at following. My leading lady (the source of the quote above), was slight - I guess about half my mass - and competent, which must have given our dance the appearance of a patient stable-girl leading around an exceptionally stupid dray horse. I made up my mind that I would take some classes as a follow so that next time I would be able to put on a better show.

I've now taken beginner classes as a follow three times, and some of the strangest things I've learnt are the trivial ones. How hard it is to keep your arms up and available to the lead is one thing. I've managed to avoid clamping my lead's arm under mine, mostly, but I have a new found sympathy for follows who seem to avoid taking my left hand. It is  surprisingly difficult to concentrate on ones footwork and on holding ones right arm out. It shouldn't be, but it is.

I've learnt more about the importance of proper weight change. When I'm leading, I know mentally where my weight should be at any point, and I can usually fix it. As a follow, every time I lose concentration for a second, I revert to lead footwork - rock-stepping on my left, for instance, at the beginning of a bar, which makes me realise how engrained that first step-step is in my mind. This is good, because it means I can put my legs on auto-pilot when I'm social dancing, but bad because it means that I'm probably not dancing that way because I want to, but because my legs are too used to it to do anything else - which isn't just a problem for following, but for leading as well.

I've learnt is how hard it is to turn more than once - the follows in that class were asked to do a 1080-degree in one bar (that is, step with a 360 turn, step with another 360 turn, and finally a 360 turn into a triple). Too much for me! ...and I will think twice about asking a follow for more than two turns in a row in the future.

Perhaps the most important thing I've learnt is how different leads can be. In a beginners class of 20 couples, perhaps four or five men are giving decent leads. In ballroom classes I sometimes have to tell my wife to wait for my lead rather than just going straight into a move. After learning as a follow I can appreciate why follows sometimes do that - because in class, whether you get a lead at the right time or even at all can be completely random.

"If you try to help them out a good lead might scold you," she told me, "and if you make it more difficult and wait for a lead that doesn't come, you come across to the beginners as a bitch."

Following as a lead I at least have one advantage there - having done it all before, I can offer lead-to-lead advice on what they might be doing wrong... although I suspect I may still come across as a bit of a jerk.

Oh well.

She Goes:

I don't know about you ladies, but I love seeing two guys swing dance together. Hawt! When one swings the other out and they do their lil' twist-twists? Yeah!

C'mon now, you know what I'm saying here. And chaps- surely you've seen two chicks engaging in a bit of mutual 6/8-count action? When I've been dancing with a girl there's normally at least one guy cheering us at the point of swing out!

I think it's useful to go both ways as a dancer. I believe it informs your own performance and also helps you give back to the dance community while you're learning your new role- because you can give more eloquent feedback to your partner other than 'Crap, I really have no idea how to do this, do you?!' You have a good understanding of what the move is supposed to look like and how it should feel in your normal role. This helps the newbie you're dancing with, I reckon.

It's also (as a people watching person) funny to watch the initial confusion flicker over their expressions. Muhaha!

I encountered my first Lady Lead (or LLs from here) the first week I started having lessons. I thought it was the coolest thing ever- this chick was clearly a badass follow and not satisfied with that set of mad skills, she'd decided to develop her understanding of dancing by learning to lead. Her reassurance and feedback in those first few weeks ('That's the way', 'Don't worry about that', 'Hey, I'm leading this move, not you!') really helped me have faith I was on the right path.

The angelic selfless stuff out the way- since I've started learning to lead I have realised how much stuff leads have to think about! (And may I give you all a high-five for the excellent work you do)... 'Am I doing 6 or 8 count, what step am I leading, what's the signal for that, does my follow feel comfortable with the moves, are they looking fabulous and smiley, what's the music phrase telling me, is there a break coming, oh crap that didn't work, what's next...etc etc!

When I'd first started learning following, I couldn't understand why the leads weren't smiling and laughing as much as I was. Now I get it; they were nearly going cross-eyed in concentration!!

I first led by accident. I rocked up to a favourite class and there was a crippling lack of leads... so I thought I'd give it a whirl. a few months later I'm still trying to lead in at least one lesson a week. (That's trying-to-lead, I'm not there yet!)

I think that it's helped my understanding of signals, their timings and counting in general. I never counted my steps before, and as a follow I still don't tend to- but moves I find harder I can now  appreciate how counting can help. I must admit that switching between leading and following in the same night is a bit mind bending, though.

So, this is all well and good, dancing with a LL in a learning environment, but socially it's an entirely different kettle of fish. I'm not really up to scratch to lead socially, so I haven't done much, but I have done it. I have, however, been led by a few LLs.

LLs can also fall under the different types of lead Keith and I discussed last month , and on occasion I've actually found that the more experienced the LL (as a follow) sometimes the harder I find it to follow them... do you follow me?!

They're such good follows and they might expect the follows they lead to be of the same calibre. Some LL have been quite aggressive in their lead signals, some have been so subtle I've missed basic moves. I suppose it depends on the kind of signals they prefer to receive from their leads when they follow?

However. there are some LLs out there, the Mythical LL (MLL!) who leads like a dream. She gives clear signals without jolting you, keeps the move repertoire at your level, keeps the pace and bounce, and throughout it all retains her air of femininity and softness in the role. I've only ever danced with 2 MLL. But it's what I aspire to as a LL.

Also as a LL I want to lead a male follow in some crazy gender-bendy hilarity. I've had a little go mid-dance, which was confusing as hell for me, but I will not be defeated!

Any ladies out there tempted to switch it up? Go for it! I would suggest that if you're still relatively new to dancing that you get a few months worth of following under your belt first, just so you have a solid base to build on. But also, keep your toe in the following pool- you don't want to lose your following know-how! But apart from that, I say get out there, mix it up, and have yourself a time!

Too Much of a Good Thing is Worse Than None At All?

Apologies for the lack of usual post last week. Spoon had a situation that prevented our usual musings, so Keith ninja'd out a poem which we hope you enjoyed.

Normal service has now been resumed!

He Goes:

There's something to be said for immersion. It now amazes me that people will come to a swing night and leave at the end of the class without waiting around for the social dancing. Of course, I wasn't exactly the world's most ardent social dancer when I started lindy-hopping, so I understand what they're going through, but really - as everyone says, the best way to get good at dancing is to dance.

I say this coming off the end of a ten-evening dance marathon which has convinced me in some ways and made me dubious in others. During that time I have danced eight days of swing socials (roughly three hours a day), plus two days of ballroom classes (well, I had to give my legs a bit of a chance...)

I'm lucky enough to live in London, where generally speaking the problem is one of choice rather than lack - with the odd exception of Fridays, which half of the month seem to have very little on. I could have been out of luck, but fortunately I live far enough out of London to make it to a social in Windsor. That, plus three of the other venues were ones I'd never been to before.

Swing-dancing in London is both impersonal and personal. There are so many dancers that you can go to 7 different venues in a week and almost everyone you see will be a stranger - but there will always be one or two friendly faces, guaranteeing at least a couple of dances with a follow you're familiar with or a little chat with a lead you know. 

It's a strange feeling, dancing so much. I'm also in the middle of NaNoWriMo, so my daily routine has been "Write during the day, Dance during the evening, Sleep, Repeat". I've felt okay about the writing, but the transition from writing to dancing was bizarre. On the trains or buses I could barely keep my eyes open, but one dance and I'd feel completely fresh again. Each day seemed to last longer because it was always full. I ate a lot, and at strange times - eating before dancing never seemed like a good idea, but I was so hungry when I came home that it was often sarnies at midnight.

I didn't seem to get too tired - or when I did, it was in odd ways: crouched walking while I lead a forward into multiple swivels caused my thighs to burn like I'd run a marathon when I stood up again, but a dance later they were fresh again. But as the days rolled past I noticed that I more often adopted a lazy, simian style in slow songs. My triple-steps became a thing of the past - I could do them when I focused on them, but more often I would let my follow get on with that while I did single steps. I performed the slowest Charleston I have ever danced, with a follow that I thought might only have done the class we had shared and nothing more. My right arm drooped lower and lower during the week, accentuating the problems I have with blocking my followers when I tuck-turn them. Spoon, I thought, will have conniptions when we next dance.

But that was both a positive and negative thing. I became more convinced that the ability to improvise is promoted by mistakes. I learnt in some of the classes I took, but the majority of things I learnt came either from my own mistakes or those that my follows made (almost always, I will admit, due to my own ambiguous leading). I am a solid kind of guy, difficult to lead, but the more I danced with certain follows the more I found it easy to follow from the lead - for instance, feeling in a partnered Charleston that my follow had lingered more on the five-kick than even the note had, which inspired me during the next phrase to just freeze there an hold it for the next three beats.

Dancing the same steps over and over again is also - well, kind of boring. That's perhaps the wrong word. It's more like a sort of intense awareness that there are more ways to fit to the music, but it did remind me of being a beginning dancer and worrying that basics, tuck-turns, and change-of-places would not be enough to keep a follow happy for an entire dance. I tried things out - some of them did not work, some of them were disastrous, but I knew that with a whole week of dancing I would have plenty of chances to do them right. And my fears seemed to be groundless - even when a move tanked, I enjoyed the dance and so (as far as I could tell) did my follow.

Perhaps the oddest thing I discovered - almost insignificant on its own, was the in-bar call and response. A single step made by me on beat 2, that my partner echoed on beat 4. The most minimal of dancing, but we built up from there. I will have to mull that over for a long time, like all the other things I have learnt. If you get a chance to do something similar, my advice is to go for it.

She Goes:

(Pre-dance)
As I start this post it has been 8 days since my last dance, and I'm gagging for some swing! I've also severely limited the amount of swing music I listen to, no easy feat with my iPod!

I dance 3 time a week at least, and so to have this time away has been very difficult for me!

Obviously my reasons for having the time off will be impacting (read; not good) but I know my mental well-being has been affected by this lack of release. I purposely danced really hard last time as I was unsure when the next time would be.

My temper is shorter, and I feel kind of cluttered and distracted. Physically I feel like a big restless slug. Inactivity has made me lazy of body, mind, and all other factors aside, I'm more tired too.

However the thought of coming back to dancing has been keeping me strong! Present a starving man with a whole roast chicken and he will rip parts off with his hands, tear flesh off with his teeth. He will eat like a maniac, then calm down, have a swig of tea, and then consume the rest in a more sustainable manner. That's how I feel about getting back in there. I can't wait!

(Post dance)
I deliberately chose a low key night so I didn't do myself a mischief (and that one too because I'm friends with the teachers ;) )

I led in both classes and had a couple of dances afterwards, I was a little rusty but it felt good. It was good to face it with friends too in a safe space rather than the jungles of social dances! (That'll come tomorrow)

I didn't dance hard enough to get exhausted. But I felt the difference in my stamina levels- I got out of breath quicker but I suppose we were doing some faster things in the intermediates. We did some skip ups, suzy q's and then this tango move- it felt awesome! I can't wait for tomorrow when it'll be more classes and a live band. But I digress.

The serenity after a nice dance is very much present. I feel calm, like a noisy little corner of my mind has run out of things to say. Which may be why this part of the post is shorter!!

But to sum up. Provided you approach it sensibly and listen to your body (yes mum, ok!), I don't think there's any way too much dancing can be worse than none at all. So what are you waiting for?! Grab your plimsolls and get out there!!

Interlude: I propose and you dispose

No He Goes She Goes today, but we will be back next week - or possibly sooner. In the meantime, an interlude:

I propose and you dispose

I propose and you dispose

that's the rough idea.

I swing you out and you show me swivels

but that's not what's happening here.

I dance the steps that we learnt in school.

You do the wrong ones but make them look cool.

Where all the cracks are, that's where the dance gets in.

I'm not too good at leading a Charleston

so you kick the dog.

My tuck-turns are lazy and you miss my hand

so you fall off the log.

I lead a little hop but I don't do it right.

So you jump half your body height.

Where we screw up, that's where the dance gets in.

It isn't just a one-way thing

I can do it too.

When we overcook some crazy turn

On the heel of my shoe.

I get fancy in the instrumental break,

Too proud to mention it was just a mistake,

Where we're imperfect, that's where the dance slips in.

Now some songs they go on forever

some end just like that.

Even the experts are never so sure

that they'd bet their hat.

When that song ended we wished it was longer,

But the hashes we made only made us stronger.

We danced it together, and that's when the dance got in.