Got My Arms, Got My Hands...

He Goes:

"How do you dance?" Spoon messaged me, last week.A big question, but what she meant was - what level of thing am I aware of when I'm dancing? Am I conscious of each limb? What am I thinking about? I was certainly conscious of each limb while I was thinking about the question, since having finally been laid low by the winter cold all of my limbs were like inside-out baked alaska - a freezing cold top centimetre surrounding a blob of molten muscle and bone. But when dancing? Not so much.

I guess what I'm thinking about at any one moment is all down to who I'm dancing with, and when I'm dancing. I try (not always successfully) to dance from my core, so that the lead is my whole body. Most moves in Lindy don't require particularly complicated arm movements, so the only time I think of the movement of my limbs is when I'm being told to relax by a teacher, say, or when I have a "danger limb" - that is to say, if I'm about to do something that might be dangerous for me, my follow, or someone around us, either physically or morally. Consequently my left leg (most likely to do a mule kick) and my right arm (most likely to accidentally grab something I shouldn't) get a disproportionate amount of my attention limb-wise. But I do dangerous things only very rarely, so it's not something that takes up a lot of my mind.

I think a fair bit about my weight. Not as in "does this waistcoat make me look fat", obviously, but what foot I'm on, and what foot my partner is on, in case I need to force them to change weight (or change weight myself) for a move. I'm usually not bad at it, although it helps to have a handful of regular follows who are so quick at changing their weight that I would be unable to wrong-foot them even if I tried. If I'm dancing with a beginner, particularly someone who's having trouble getting the basic footwork right, this is almost all that I'm thinking about. My mind's in the system of weight, of contraction and release in my right arm, encouraging the follow to pull away from me a little so that the rock-step can happen, transferring my own weight from left to right and taking her with me. If the follow's a little better I think about the pressure on my right arm - on the bottom of the arm when I'm travelling forward, on the top of the arm when I'm travelling backwards.

If I'm dancing with someone experienced, I think about the music. Where are we in the song? How many phrases until the next big feature? I'm not much of a counter - I don't know most songs well enough to know how many bars there are to each section, but I can remember that a song might be reaching a crescendo or a twiddly bit, and then I'm thinking about what basic moves I can do to mark time until/prepare for whatever's coming in the music. But I'm also keeping an eye on what my follow is doing in case she does something neat and I have to abort my lead to let her do it. It's sort of like a spot the difference quiz - if my follow is sufficiently experienced I assume she won't make mistakes, so anything she does which is unexpected drags my attention there instantly so that I can do something about it (either just admire it, or do the last move I did again so that she - or both of us, sometimes - can do whatever clever footwork she's proposing).

Both lead and follow are thinking about the placement of that hand!

She Goes:

Ha, Keith, I’d completely forgotten about that! So… what do I think about when dancing…?

Up until recently I had a pretty strict policy of not really thinking whilst dancing. No, seriously. Quite early on I got myself all tangled up in fretting about my following skills and a lead friend of mine told me to think less, and dance more. That’s pretty much one of my mantras now.

In some respects that it my main MO when it comes to dancing. I’d like to think I’m a reasonably intuitive follow because of it. Naturally there has been some level of physical awareness, although it seems so second nature to me now that I barely register it. Things like ensuring a good connection with my left arm, keeping any unclasped hands at waist level… It meant that I wasn’t a very grounded dancer though. I frequently back led; I think it was because I’d get caught up in having so much fun.

But there’s nothing like a plateau to make you address your level and your approach. I had a couple of conversations with a couple of leads I hold in high regard, and it lead to me looking long and hard about key element in my dancing. (Remember last week I mentioned I was pretty analytical about my dancing? That was the day I took a long hard look at myself …)

I now have a veritable array of things to think about- a smorgasbord, if you will. I am trying to be a lot more physically present in my body. I am thinking about my feet (trying to make steps smaller and keep them under me) my weight (in relation to my leads’ weight as well as in relation to my steps), my shoulders (frame, people, frame!), my fingers (listening and responsive), and my arm. (Listening)… I’m also thinking about my lead. Their tension, what they’re telling me other than the moves they’re leading. I alternate between feeling as though I am a giant ear dancing, or a bumper car that no one can control!!

Pfff, it used to be so simple! I’d just rock up, swing out and go home… But if I want to get a badass technique as standard I need to work on all of these things and plenty more so that it becomes second nature.

Swungover? We Know The Feeling...

He Goes:

I almost never drink when I'm dancing - for something that energetic the last thing I want is to have no balance or coordination. I guess some people like to have a pint for dutch courage, but mostly I'm not too different from other dancers there.

So what's going on? I've had a great night out, danced my shoes off with some amazing follows, drunk nothing except some lemonade, and yet here I am the next morning: bleary-eyed, parched, aching and cursing the sun. 

Oh, right. I'm swungover.

The little brother of the post-dance blues, more ubiquitous but always late to the party, it really is weirdly like a hangover. A general malaise, proof that no matter how it is you have your good time, you have to pay some sort of bill sooner or later.

I wonder whether part of it is chemical - maybe you just can't keep up that level of enjoyment for that many hours without some sort of crash afterwards. (Maybe I should be eating more food that contains the precursors of endorphins?)

Whether that's true or not, it's definitely part physical part psychological. The aches and pains and bleary eyes are what you'd expect if you (say) exercised for four hours straight and probably didn't drink enough liquids. No mystery there. But they seem worse than they actually are because now all the benefits are in the past. Yesterday me stayed at the social for another hour because there were more follows he wanted to dance with, or more dances to be had with follows he'd already danced with. He wasn't thinking about poor today me, the selfish prick. Today me has no-one to dance with, but he's got all the extra aches and pains that yesterday me racked up (not to mention a little video album of the fun yesterday me was having playing at the back of his head).

In the year 3000 they still Lindy-Hop, but in vintage anti-gravity hoop-clothes.

She Goes:

Urgh, the love/hate feeling I have for being swungover. (I'm swungover as I type this, by the by.)

I spent most of yesterday thinking about, talking about and then finally, actually swinging out. When the time came for me to get on the D-floor (and I was there, plimsolls on, ready to go) I was far more analytical and physically focused on my moments then I am normally. (As my standard is to get on, let go and then flop, spent, in a corner.)

Resisting the tangent of talking about physical focus as much as possible, I think that because I hadn't just let go as usual, it's saved me some of the swungover pain today.

I do also like the sensation of knowing I danced my little socks off. Waking up and aching as i roll over to find my bloody phone and press the bloody snooze button. That's the first sign. Feeling stiff as I get out of bed. While I wait for the kettle to boil I do little stretches, and test out where the main aches are... today I also have a whinging neck from where I clearly slept on it funny. And aching knees from breaking in some new Keds pumps and having residual aches from my fading bruises (I was pleased i took my suedes with me last night but they are borderline FUBAR)... and slightly aching legs from my first adventure with a Boris Bike... but that general wooden feeling of slowness and thirst; classic swungover.

I know Keith had a little whinge about it but I generally think it's a good thing. I chose to do these things. I would much rather have this from choice instead of, say, being beaten with a stick to dubstep music. And let's not forget the post-dance high you get from a reallllly good night. I had such a good night on Thursday that I was in a brilliant mood for ALL of Friday and Saturday. I have decided to call this the Dafterglow.

You're welcome. Use it. Let's give it some currency!

So, how does one remedy being swungover? Taking the next day off! (Or, at least, taking it easy)... Drink plenty of fluids, and eat some bananas. Try and avoid heavy foods and any artificial stimulants. Oh alright, you'll need the tea/coffee in the morning, but don't drink any in the evening if at all possible- you want to have a nice natural sleep so your body can catch up with itself. And while we're on the subject, why not try getting an early night? (she says, fully aware that she rarely takes that option....)

I also give my ears a break from the usual and dive into a bug pile of rock, hip hop and soul. Ahhh.

Any hints or tips you'd care to share, chaps?

He Goes, She Goes, We Go!

He Goes:

I'll let Spoon explain this one...

She Goes:

So I was followed by a man with a beard and flat cap for a week before Xmas. He was carrying a camera for all of that time- and here is a little snippet of what he captured.

I'd like to apologise on Keith's behalf for his serious face, and our general laziness. (Rest assured we've been critiquing ourselves pretty severely after seeing this for the first time a few days ago!)

Watching this does make me smile; it reminds me why I love dancing with him. It's familiar and comfortable, but always fun. I don't feel nervous dancing with him.

It's a shame the clip ends early- we bust out some bad-ass aerials right at the end... No, really!! *dishonest*

We Go:

http://vimeo.com/m/59243877

Gonna Dance Off Both My Shoes

He Goes:

We spoke about clothes a little while ago, but obviously some of the things you wear are more important than others. You could wear your pyjamas without it affecting your dancing - you might find it more difficult (or easier, I don't know) to get partners, but the actual dancing wouldn't be any different.

Wear your slippers, though, and you're going to have a bad time.

Yep, it's the shoes that make the dance. I resisted dance shoes for a long time - really I've only had proper dance shoes for perhaps seven or eight months out of two years swing dancing and three years on-and-off ballroom before that.

It could be that I was making too much of a man thing of it. There's that unwritten rule that to be properly masculine is to have as few pairs of shoes as possible. Shoes are fungibles, undistinguished things that get us from one place to another. When they wear out, you don't shed any tears. You roll your eyes and sigh, and think "ugh, I have to buy another pair of shoes." Then you get whatever's on the discount rack and is black and in your size, and away you go. To some extent it's a pretty good way to live. It's easier to store one pair of shoes than it is ten, obviously, and despite what people think, actually very few people either notice or give a shit. I wore black high-tops when I was a best man, and only one person spotted it.

But once you scrape off the gloss of fashion shoes are of course pretty utilitarian, and there's a lot of difference between, say, wandering around an office and hiking over a mountain. That's two pairs of shoes immediately, and neither of them would do for running. So you're on the road to having a reasonable number of pairs of shoes and what the hell is wrong with that.

There are three different things I've thought about when buying shoes. First of all, I'm a heavy guy, so I want shoes that I won't damage my partners in. The first pair of shoes I bought specifically for dancing in (although they're not dance shoes, so I'm going to say this doesn't count for calendar purposes) were Jingas - fabric-topped with light soles, designed for capoiera but suitable for salsa. They weren't good ballroom shoes, and they would be bloody awful for swing, but they did save a toe or two, I think. 

Second, the sole is - well, the sole can make the difference between looking pretty good on the floor and looking amazing, as far as I can tell. For the last eight months (up until last week) I was swing dancing in suede-soled ballroom shoes from Bloch. Suede is incredible - slippery but not too slippery, you don't realise how much some moves (20's Charleston's heel swivelling, for instance) relies on having shoes which don't cling onto the floor like it's the last time they're going to see it. I've heard that having less grippy shoes can reduce torque on joints, making them less likely to injure you, too. They also make me taller, which is okay although I suspect it makes following just that one percent more difficult. It takes a while to get used to the properties of unfamiliar soles, but that process was interesting in itself - I think it let me develop a much looser style. (Which I must now try not to do all the time so that it becomes the only style I can do, but..)

Finally, there is the look - the least important, I think, although there's no point having the safest, best-soled shoes ever if they look ridiculous. I'm currently dancing in red and black brogues from Johnson Shoes of Wallington: leather soled at the front of the foot, rubber-heeled, yet another unfamiliar combination that I have to get used to, but that's not so bad.

Shoes, in the brief period between arrival and being scuffed to all get out.

She Goes:

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I hate shoes.

Nah, I’m just kidding.

When I first started dancing I wore a pair of knackered out but much loved green high top converse. My dossing-about shoes. Once it became clear that my knees would appreciate a little less friction on my feet, I took myself off to Chinatown and spent $4 on a pair of ‘gymnast shoes’, which were basically plimsolls without a structured sole, but with a thick layer of suede instead.

Whoooooooooooooossssshhhhhhh! Speedy slippy fun times for me! Probably not the best choice in terms of support for my lower back, or protection from any wayward spike heels worn by a fellow follow on the d-floor, but still! Spoon’s First Shoeses. My friends all chuckled at them. They did look faintly ridiculous I must admit, but I didn’t want to commit any money to shoes for a habit that wasn’t yet sure would stick. (And I know I loved dancing straight away, but there’s an expensive pair of salsa shoes crying gently in a box somewhere in my nana’s garage, next to the yoga mats…)

I used those bad boys for about 4 months before I decided something a little more solid would probably be better (and draw less sceptical looks). Hello red plimsolls with red-and-white-striped elastic instead of laces. (£6, H&M). Apart from the same jokes about missing laces week in, week out, these little pups were quite good. A bit snug but they broke in nicely. Not as slippy as my gym slippers though.

The next pair were bought in the sale in a half-tipsy hurry as I’d forgotten to pick up my dance kit before work and the chum I’d met after my shift had allowed me to persuade her to come dancing. (I was in DMs so keeping those on wasn’t going to happen, really). I got some Fred Perry thingies. (£19) They were fashion shoes though, and the laced part didn’t fully cover the top of my foot, so after a couple of weeks of blissful dancing (as they were both burgundy and slightly more slippery) they stopped feeling suitable as the fabric stretched out. I’ve got quite wide feet and the shoes just couldn’t really keep up with all the action they were getting…. Bow-chicka-wow-wow…!

For my birthmas at the end of the summer last year I got some money, and with that I went merrily skipping to a highly regarded emporium of all things pretty and dance related and hooked myself up with some Aris Allen suede soled plimsolls. (£50) Check me out with my actual dance shoes. I’m an actual dancer. I take my dancing seriously. No, seriously!

Happy knees. And hips. Arch support? Yes please! Slippady-do-da? You know it!

So continued a few months of heaven- and just before Christmas I bit the bullet and bought some dancing heels.  (Aris Allen again, £69) I don’t even wear heels in ‘real life’, people. This was a monumental moment for me. Borne partly from a need to have some ‘smart’ shoes to dance in (pretty dress + shabby shoes = not quite the look I want) That day I commited to dance in a way that I hadn't before.

Wow, the difference I feel when I dance in them is massive. If you’ve ever lead me on the floor, you’ll know I have quite a wiggly, flirty style. These heels increase the wiggle factor by at least 10! Dancing in them makes my reign a lot of my moves in, as I need to stay focused on my core balance. I’m super aware of my heels (in terms of whether they’re lifted or not) and my ‘attitude’ gets more prominence in my posture. Initially I couldn’t do a full night in them but now I flippin’ love them! And they’re fast becoming so worn that I may need to get some actual ‘smart’ shoes. I’ll give it a month or 4 though.

A small thought bubble on heels- I personally think that it’s not a good idea to wear thin/spike heels on a dance floor. (Height I’m not fussed about- if you can swing out in 6 inch platforms then you are more of a woman then I will ever be, and I bow to your superior skills) If it’s not a block heel or a wedge then you are putting your fellows at serious and very real risk of injury. If you are wearing thin heels then you must be comfortable in them, and that’s great. However, please consider the idea that however confident you are in keeping your feet to yourself and not skewering a fellow dancers' Achilles tendon, you are not the only person dancing. You’re surrounded by a large amount of other dancers, and accidents will happen, collisions will occur; do you want to have the guilt of potentially ruining someone’s swing career? I thought not.

Sorry, that’s turned into a bit of a rant, there (and I’d told Keith I probably wouldn’t have much to say on this subject!) but it is serious, this last bit. Please wear something chunkier on the floor and save the flesh-skewering fuck-me-heels for the walk to the after party.