Monday 29 April 2013

How Many Shops Would A Workshop Shop If A Workshop Could Hit The Shops?

He Goes

Ooof! I ache all over. Partly it's sleeping on the floor on Saturday night, but mainly it's the workshop I did on Saturday afternoon. While my muscles are tired though, my brain is alive again, out of the mood indigo it was in the week before last (perhaps that's overstating the case a little, let's say mood lilac).

One hour classes are pretty good for learning, it must be said. There's probably so much information in an hour that grasping anything more before going on to social dancing is a fool's errand. But it's good every now and again to tackle things that can't be learnt in an hour - to get in-depth and just drill something over and over again, if for no other reason than to stretch the brain's stomach so that next time you have to digest a heavy lesson you're up for it.

Last weekend (in between grumbling about stagnation and writing about it) I went to an informal little solo Charleston workshop in Reading, and handful of people in a circle learning some steps they could do in a jam circle. This weekend just gone, I went to a beginner's aerials workshop: a larger handful of people learning some tricks they could do in a jam circle. Really, perfectly identical in many ways - it's just that the first workshop left me feeling all loose and relaxed, and the second like I'd aged thirty years overnight!

Actually, in lots of ways all workshops are the same. A smaller group than in class, a more dedicated group (because they've taken the step of going to a workshop), a faster-moving group (both because they're usually not absolute beginners - although some might be - and because the teachers are able to focus more on individual problems). Neither of the workshops I went to rotated partners - the first because there were no partners, the second because ideally you have to know someone reasonably well to let them grab you round the thigh and lift you into the air. But when there is rotation, the smaller group also means that individual problems seem to get wrinkled out quicker than in a class.

There's a sort of downside to workshops - sort of, kind of maybe, but not really. Let me explain. With one exception (when I was going to a beginner's workshop that I didn't really need to go to because I was going with someone), I've never left a workshop having nailed everything that was taught in it. I did not look slick doing the solo Charleston moves by the end of that workshop. When it was time to leave the Aerials workshop my partner and I still hadn't managed to pull off a Lamppost. At the time, it's a tiny bit disappointing. But you know what? These things take time. We got close, and what we did do? Amazing stuff. I'm not going to grumble that I couldn't manage 100% of the things I was taught. I'm only human, after all. And I remember things that I couldn't get in past workshops that just clicked one day, sometimes months later. 

One day, lamppost, one day!

Homework for the aerials workshop is less energetic

She Goes



Well, I haven't been able to go to any workshops because I have to work on Saturdays. Contractually obliged kinda thing.

THIS IS MY SULKING FACE!

I want to do aerials workshops. And jazz workshops. And Big Apple workshops. But they're never on a Sunday. *pout*

I'm hoping that going to week two of Herrang will help remedy the pouting. (...nope, still pouting. But I'll keep you posted...)

Monday 22 April 2013

Taking Steps to Taking Better Steps

He Goes

As we were walking towards the train station last week, I was having a little self-deprecating moan and wondering whether I was stagnating as a dancer. Perhaps it was the magic word "stagnate", with its connotations of weed-strangled waterholes, but young Spoon suggested that maybe my trouble was constancy of venue.

"You're a big fish in this pond," she argued.

Now, there are objections I could make to this point. I'm at best a medium-sized fish in my usual pond. Perhaps a small lobe-fin, or (since I also have the ballroom world to inhabit) an average-sized amphibian. The stately axolotl, maybe, since I fear growing up and wish to avoid it even at the cost of ridiculous feathery gills growing out of my ne-

You know what, I've let this metaphor run away with me a bit. Backing up.

There's obviously still a lot of room for me to grow where I usually dance - there's still a tremendous amound for me to learn, and I enjoy it so even if there was nothing to learn I'd probably still go there. But I suppose there's something to be said for swimming out into deeper waters.

It's a good test of whether one can actually lead, for one thing. I want to be a good lead, and getting out to other places means putting that all to the test. Follows that you've never met before, so that you don't know whether they know the moves that you do. Music that you've never heard before, so that you have to pick up the musical hits and pauses on the fly, not just relying on knowing them off by heart. And of course, gut-wrenching nervousness about asking people to dance, because you don't know anyone at all.

Of course, London's a big enough place that you can go to unfamiliar venues with relative ease, but a small enough place that when you get there you're likely to see one or two familiar faces. That eases the pain a little, but still - I only have to go somewhere new to be reminded of how shy I am, and how when I started swing dancing I took weeks to pick up the nerve to ask someone else to dance in the social, even when I was in places where leads were thin on the ground and I would probably have been welcomed. When I actually go to a new venue I find this a little excruciating, although viewed in the cold, rhythm-less light of day it's probably a good thing, because it helps remind me to be understanding of other people's shyness. 

It's difficult for me to be quite as active about visiting different venues as Spoon - I'm older and creakier, and married, and far out in the suburbs where travel into London is easy, but getting out again is slow - but I suppose I should take a little inspiration from the axolotl now and again: although under normal circumstances they never grow up, it does occasionally happen that they assume their adult form. Sometimes they just crawl up out of their pool on their own, but it can be induced - all it takes it a spoonful of iodine.

Look at this happy fellow!


She Goes


Keith, I love you but you are a special kind of mental.

I did say you were a big fish in a small pond- I also said you were playing it safe and not challenging yourself. I can't find fault with you being a creature of habit and attending the same venue regularly though; I'm exactly the same.

However, this lack of variance over time can be less positive. I can tell when you've been dancing elsewhere because you'll lead a move or add a flourish that isn't in your normal repertoire. I'm not suggesting that I'm bored with your leading, I'm suggesting that you are!

The thing is, I feel like the social aspect of this night is now as big a factor in coming as the learning itself. Well, it is for me, and I'm sure you can here at least in part.

But I'm taking steps- I danced in Not London on Saturday night- rocked up with a lead to a place I didn't know, and got stuck in. Maybe not immediately, those bowls of crisps weren't going to eat themselves, plus I wanted to scope out the dancers, admire the stylings, suss out who would be my first victim... But essentially, yeh, I was in at the deep end. Easier for me than you perhaps, as that's how I roll. But worth it.

It was like dusting the cobwebs off.

Dancing regularly in the same circles is something I love- this lead challenges me, this one is very playful, this one has a killer whip of a swing out... I knew nothing about these ones; it made me feel fresher than a moist towelette and a slice of orange after a scorching hot curry.

One lead started a play fight through the medium of dance within two moves! (A kick to the bum as a side-by-side charleston variations? Ohh, it is SO on!) One lead was the best part of 60 and had great banter, and kicks that could put most of the women in the room to shame!! One looked about 16, but danced with the skill and confidence of someone who came out of the womb doing the Big Apple...

All of these leads made me feel like I was a bad-ass follow, like I had amazing style, and like I was the most fabulous female on the floor. They hasn't seen my crazy legs before- they went crazy for them!!

What I'm trying to tell you my dear Keith, is that a change is as good as a rest. When you stop playing it safe and put yourself out there then good things can happen.

Monday 15 April 2013

I Get A Kick Out Of You....(Tube)

He Goes

I've always wondered how it was that people learned dances in the old days. We're told that people just went along to dances and learnt there, or they learned as children, but can there really have been such a cultural difference from current times? It seems very un-English to do something like that, what with the risk of incompetency being exposed or emotions being expressed. On the other hand, society frequently changes quickly enough to make one generation's norms completely alien to the next generation, so perhaps it's true.

So let's assume that this is true, and that most people just learned by observation and imitation. They'd:
  • go to dances
  • see a cool move
  • try to work out how it was done
  • try it out
  • get it wrong
  • try it out again
  • get it wrong again
  • ...imagine this goes on for a while...
  • finally have some breakthrough in understanding
  • do the move successfully!
This is all fair enough. And it still works as a study method - I've picked up a move or two this way. But now there's the internet.

What you can't do on the social dance floor you can do in the comfort of your own home. See a cool move on a YouTube video? Just wind it back a few seconds and watch it again. And again, and again. You can (if you've got the HTML5 version of a video) play it in slow-motion. You can pause the image so that you can work out where a particular hand or foot is at any given time. You get the benefit of watching dancers from all around the world just as easily as your regular dance-partners. And perhaps best of all, you can send the link on to a friendly fellow dancer - no more of that "oh, that was a really cool move that guy just led, I can't really describe it but if we keep watching perhaps he'll do it again". Instead: "watch this, the move at 3:10".

I'll admit that even with all these advantages I still find it difficult picking up fancy moves from videos, but I suspect that's a personal thing based on feeling faintly ridiculous practising on my own at home. Fortunately YouTube isn't only useful for instruction. There's also instant re-inspiration whenever I'm feeling like I'm starting to stagnate.

I love living in the future.

She Goes

I was out dancing last night, and towards the end found myself watching a favourite follow, whilest sat with another favourite. Dancing follow did some kind of bad-ass kicky-leg swing out styling variation, and the one I was sat with squealed with delight and demanded a repeat because 'she had to have it'! The one dancing responded with that she had no idea what she did so to point it out if it happened again.

How many amazing steps have been lost in the mists of time before camera phone footage?! Maybe that awesome step you were feeling really smug about could change the course of dancing history, if only it was documented?!

No? Oh well.

For the first 6 months or so of my dancing life I didn't watch a single clip on youtube. And then one night, I saw a clip posted on facebook, and before I knew it, it was 3am and I'd fiended off a few years' worth of competitions, jack and jills, showcases, and  I WAS SO GODDAMN PUMPED HOW THE HELL COULD I SLEEP!?

Awesome dancing follow, mentioned in the first paragraph, is a big fan of watching clips over and over, dissecting and distilling their secrets, analysing comparing, and filing them away like a sexy lindy squirrel. I am not like that. I like noticing trends that clips can set off though- a jump here, a variation there, that move where the follow continues spinning and the leader bounces them off their arms, and variations therein...

Lindy clips are like porn for me. If watching porn makes you horny, then watching dance clips makes me...horny for dance?....Dancey?...Dorny? OH OH OH! I have it!! It gives me the LINDY HORN!!

I'm a genius! Please, take that phrase and use it with my blessing. File it next to 'dafterglow'.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand. I tend to prefer watching Jack and Jills, invitationals mainly, because I'm so big on social dancing that I can relate to it more than showcases, for example. Most of the lindy rockstars in them are really relaxed and not out to score anything other than a smashing dance. I also find myself thinking about who I would dance with first, in a room full of rockstar dancers. (Lindy horn fantasies... guilty as charged...)

Here are a few ones I've been indulgingin/torturing myself with in the last couple of weeks;

The first dance in this clip (which is the full length version of the comp), recently did the rounds. It is an awesome example of two kick-ass dancers vibing with a song, having an actual dance conversation, and having tonnes of fun. I do like the full length clips when possible- it gives the in-jokes that develop more context. I also like being able to see the dances that don't work *quite* so well, the dancers nervous to be paired with such superstars, or when two styles just dont work. It also saves having to open millions of tabs on my browser! I like the all-skate at the end of this, it decends into hilarity. Just watch it!

This clip is another full lengther- and I love it for slightly different reasons. (interesting that both this and the one previous start with the same song- I only just noticed that) I can't decide what I love more- the lindy dances or the other ones. Watch it, you'll get what I mean. I LOVE the idea of dicking around and having fun like that. I want to have a go!

On the subject of dicking around, this clip had me in hysterics. (I was late to the party for this song but better late than never I reckon)

This clip is the stuff fantasies are made of. I can't see a guy-on-guy dance OR hear this song without thinking about it. I actually just lost 20 minutes of writing time watching it repeatedly. *sigh*

In fact, I just lost a few hours going though my saved clips. Dammit!!





Monday 8 April 2013

You Say It Best When You Say Nothing At All

He Goes

Here is some advice my father once gave me, about children.

"When they're little," he said, "they're going to want to help out with washing up, or gardening. Let them. They'll do a terrible job, and you'll have to do extra work because not only will you have to clear up the mess they've made, you'll have to do the original job as well. But if you stop them doing it when they're enthusiastic but incapable, you've missed your chance. When they're old enough to do a good job, they won't want to."

Advice is a rare thing, probably one of the few things in the world that everyone wants to give away and no-one wants to receive. It's just so easy to think: "This person is having a problem and I know how to fix it!" That's fine, we're only human, we can have our thoughts. Letting them slip out of our mouths, though - that's a whole other kettle of fish. In social dancing I sometimes get that little urge to speak, but fortunately I've mainly managed to keep a rein on it - and often just getting over the initial moment is enough to dispel the temptation completely. I'm back in the dance, and when it's over I can think "well, that could easily have been my fault anyway". Sometimes I get a graphic example of why advice would have been not only rude but pointless - the follow I was dancing with dances with another lead and never makes the mistake that triggered my impulse to tinker.

I will say, I tend to forget to keep my mouth closed in beginner's classes, but even then, when people are actively in learning mode and at their most open to suggestions, I have a strict regime I follow: only when the teacher isn't talking, only when there's something the other person is a) really struggling with or b) likely to injure themselves or others if they don't stop doing, and most importantly, only if I can make them feel better and more relaxed. I think that's the clincher, really - unsolicited criticism is rude because it sets up an unspoken dynamic - "you are wrong, and need correcting", which is a sure-fire way to drain anyone's enthusiasm.

Whenever you're tempted to give unsolicited advice, then, think about what my father said. Like a child's enthusiasm for housework, a dancer's love of dance can easily be lost if subjected to harsh criticism. Are you sure what you've got to say is really more important than another person enjoying themselves?



She Goes

How would you feel if, halfway through a social dance, your lead or follow told you that you were awful at that particular style of dance? Or that you were overly self indulgent? And this being the first time you've danced with them...?

This happened to two follows I know, from the same lead at the same social night. Keith just told me about it- and I was most unimpressed. I'm not sure how they responded, not being quite as forthright as me!

I think I would indignantly raise my eyebrows, cease all further conversation until the end of the dance, and then tell them in no uncertain terms and in Very Plain Language that such critique is very rude and particularly unwelcome from a complete stranger.

This lead couldn't have been a teacher, as with teaching comes certain levels of diplomacy. At least, it has for the ones I know.

I thought this raised the interesting subject of social critiquing. Is it ever acceptable to give such feedback outside of lesson/rehearsal space?

I think it is ONLY permissible when you can say yes to all of the below;

- you know your partner!
- you have danced with them many, many times.
- they have come to you for advice/feedback before OR it is something that needs urgent addressing and you are 100% sure you can do so in a sensitive, considerate and constructive manner.

There are perhaps 3 leads on the scene in London who I have had tips from whilest out socially, two of them teach and the third I have a massive dance crush on. If anyone else tried to offer me advice I think initially it could have the power to change my entire mood and dynamic for the night, never mind if I'm ready to address such issues in my dancing.

A lead who I am friends with now actually really annoyed me the first time I was in a lesson with him. I was unsettled and distracted and supremely flippin' irritated by him correcting me almost as soon as he'd finished introducing himself. It didn't matter that it was a valid point, it was arrogantly made. A more shy person could have been put off dancing completely by that. It turns out that he's known for it...

I'm saying all of this on my moral high horse of course. But I've been there... Trying to offer helpful hints but probably just offending people instead- I now actively try and keep my big trap shut unless my opinion is actively sought, or I'm helping teach. (And that's another post entirely!)

Sometimes comments may pop out of my mouth and I'd like to apologise unreservedly for them if I've ever offended you.

I mean, there are exceptions to the trap-shut rule. It's been a while but I go through phases of actively nagging Keith when we dance! But we have that sort of dynamic! ... But thinking about it, he rarely nags me. Hmm. Maybe I should think on that one for a while.

So to sum up- unless you can meet the requirements outlined above, keep it to yourself unless its going to make your dance partner smile. If the dance is that bad, make noises of appreciation through the good bits, and hopefully they'll be so encouraged they'll forget to do the moves that don't seem to work so well for you-Because noone wants to be known as that person who doesn't have a nice thing to say about anyone.

Wednesday 3 April 2013

Interlude: What's in a name?

No He Goes She Goes this week because of the bank holiday, but we will be back next week. In the meantime, an interlude:

What's in a name?

What's in a name? That which we call a rose
by any other name would smell as sweet.
And that is just as well, 
for in a Lindy class across the road they'd 
call it a bloom-out, or a red spin,
or "that flower where the lead puts the
follows arm across her back, no, not a 
texas tommy it's more like this, do you
remember we did it at that one class."