Closer Than Close Hold; Evidences of the Southern Compass

He Goes:

Me: You should dance with X, she's very good at freestyling.

Y: Yeah, she's great. She's really cute. I think she's cute, don't you think?

Me: Well, uh, yes, she's very cute. (said with the special intonation that implies "although I'm married and she's young enough to be my daughter, so I have to be cautious in my statements here.")

Y: Do you know if she has a boyfriend?

There are societies in which dance is a mating ritual. And when I say societies I really mean one society - the one that began in Africa about forty thousand years ago and now covers the entire face of the Earth. Since I have at least one anthropologist friend I'll cover my arse and say that there may well be little pocket communities where there isn't some relationship between dance and sex. But there's a little bit of sex in the air at most dance classes.

Now, clearly that isn't the whole aspect of it. People dance for a whole lot of reasons - as exercise, as relaxation, because they love the music and can't help themselves. I dance with a lot of people that (although very nice) I wouldn't want to sleep with, and if I only danced with people who'd sleep with me I'd never have got into Lindy or social dancing - I'd be dancing one hour a week of Ballroom with my wife, and I'd probably be doing that badly.

But that said - two of the members of my very first dance class are now married with a lovely baby daughter. Every few months (up to and including just yesterday), I find out about a pair of dancers I know that have coupled-up. Obviously there's personality meshing going on here too, but dance acts as a kind of solvent for physical awkwardness. Once you've got used to touching someone it's less of a step to more intimate contact.

As a married man, I'm out of all of this - but I have to admit that a few times I have danced with women who've had that magic combination of attractiveness and style to bring on a - ahem - physical response. Not "is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me", I hasten to add - more like "ready when you are boss"! Just like normal attraction, dance attraction doesn't always have much rhyme or reason to it. It's not always the best dancers, it's not always the people you'd pick out of a line-up as the most conventionally attractive. There's some extra factor there that the dance brings out. I doubt I could have predicted beforehand who'd make me feel that way, in a way I might have been able to if dance hadn't been involved.

Of course, as in all arenas of life, it's how you deal with feelings that's the important thing. Perhaps, like me, you say thanks for the dance, you move on, you go home to your other half. Perhaps you ask for another dance (and you remember, of course, to keep your hands to yourself!), you have a chat, you ask if you can see them again. As long as you're prepared to act with all due respect for politeness and personal rights and accept that in all likelihood the dancer who's tugged your groinstrings is just here to dance and might not be similarly interested in you, there's no harm done. 

It's a fact: sometimes dance can be sexy. Just - you know - be cool about it.

She Goes:

Ha. Be cool. Easier said than done!

This post originally stemmed from a hilarious conversation Keith and I had... But this is actually a subject that has been relevant to me since the very beginning.

Put diplomatically; my personal style with dancing is rather playful and tactile. I'm not afraid of bodily contact, be it a slow blues number or high speed bal frenzy. This flirty fearlessness has, however, made me occasionally the target of those who dance with their 'southern compass', as well as giving the entirely wrong impression to leads who haven't danced with me before.

Southern compass leads, by the way, are those that use their familiarity on scene to hit on new follows that they find particularly attractive. Aka navigating dancefloors with their southern compass.... (Do you follow me?!) I got told off by a non-SC lead once when we were watching one initiate the frequently inevitable. I found it hilarious. He didn't. #awkward.

Wrong impression leads have thought I was hitting on them. Nope... But, this has also been annoying when I have on a very rare occassion tried to put the moves on- as those signals normally get taken for my usual level of friendliness. I have long since given up on trying to figure out if any dancers are into me. You'll just have to come and tell me. 

Many follows have warned me off of dating fellow dancers. I can see both sides of their arguments (which mainly centre around leads being just plain weird- but the leads they refer to are men. Hmm, men/weird correlation? Discuss!) In going out with a dancer we wouldn't necessarily have to have good dancefloor chemistry. Although it would be a bonus. Previously I have developed massive dance crushes on leads but pretty much nothing to tell my Nana about. Mainly because I tend to find it difficult to fancy someone I know nothing about. Dancing style can be as insightful as analysing handwriting, but doesn't get you far with strangers!

I once went on a date with a chap who, so keen to raise his (minimal) chances of a second one, that he actually asked me if I'd think him more attractive if he was a dancer. (he seemed to think that dancing/having an appreciation of, was integral to my list of requirements in a mate. Can't think how he got that impression...) Rather diplomatically I said that everyone would be, and that the world needed more dancers. (in case you were wondering my true thoughts, not even a lifetime of private lessons with Skye or Frida could help him!)... A few months later I bumped into him at a swing night. #AWKWARD...

I've also sometimes had dances where I've become AWARE of the existence of the southern compass of my lead. Not all of them were blues dances either! Generally I find it flattering, if amusing (maturity hasn't fully developed yet!) but on one occasion I was actually quite touched. So to speak. It was a beautiful dance we had shared, and he was mildly distressed and embarrassed - asking me to stay in close hold to cover the evidence! We had another dance. It didn't go away. I walked him to the bar.... (and left him there! What kind of girl do you take me for!?)

So yeah. No real conclusion, just more of what you already know. Dancing can sometimes be sexy. Just get over it and stop being so flippin' awkward about it! 

You're Not From Around Here, Are You?

He Goes:

Kiam mi parolas kun homoj en Esperanto (kaj tio okazas malofte), mi-

Hold on, let me start again:

When I (and it happens very rarely) converse with people in Esperanto, I am always amazed how quickly they can work out that I'm a native English speaker. Face to face it's obvious, of course, as I flap around blindly trying to work out the word for the sun:

Me (pointing at the sun): La.. uh... the sun?

Esperantisto (with "can you believe this guy?" expression): La suno.

..but even when I'm chatting in IRC, where they're getting plain text, people can still pick me out as English by my idioms. 

So it goes with dance - I'm pretty sure that people who are long-serving members of the swing community would be able to pick out where I'd learnt (possibly even who from) by watching or dancing with me. The default direction a follower is sent in a swing-out, for instance, how people lead into a back charleston, whether a follow does all the travelling in a swing-out or whether I need to meet her halfway. There are moves that - while well-known all over the world - are so rarely danced that they come to represent a micro-accent where people have learnt them. I learnt Frankie's cha-cha move in Dublin, for instance, and dance it all the time. No-one else here does, so only follows that dance with me regularly go into it without surprise.

Even on a fairly overt level there are clear differences in basic Lindy behaviour and style from one country to another. People everywhere will congregate for a Shim-Sham, obviously, but beyond that preferences in group routines differ: In Reading they're keen on Sing Lim's Charleston Stroll. In West London it's the Tranky Doo. In Dublin they do the Jitterbug Stroll, which I've only once ever seen in London - interesting, because that's where it comes from.

The choreographer of the Jitterbug Stroll, Ryan Francois, recently spoke at TEDx Albertopolis, giving a potted history of the Lindy Hop in which he was... well, dubious about the long-term effects of the internet, his fear being that the ready availability of videos on YouTube would lead to a homogenisation of style across the world. He has a point, but I think his fears are misplaced - mainly because the facts just don't support that at the moment. There are simply too many styles, too many moves, too much music for that to occur. My feeling is that if it were true that exposure to too many other dance-cultures did reduce local "accent", then the whole revival would have been a terrible blow to the diversity of the dance.

This is just my opinion, of course, but I think the benefits of easy exposure to other dancers and their ideas is such a benefit that it would outweigh the risk of homogenisation anyway, and that in practise the downside isn't even happening. When I've danced in Dublin people dance with a faint Dublin accent. When I dance in Reading a faint Reading accent. When in London - well, mostly with whatever accent they came to Britain with! ;) For the moment, at least, it's all good.

She Goes:

Someone once said to me that they could tell who London dancers had learnt with, and which groups they mainly social danced with. Although at the time those remarks got my back up, I can now see the validity in them. My irritation did give way to smugness, as they were unable to tell in terms of my dancing. (see, being a dance floor tart has its perks!)

I very much enjoy dancing in not-London. And not just the big events, I'm talking about the regular social nights for the local scene.

I recently journeyed to a southern not-London to dance with a favourite lead (one of the ones from the list a few posts back), and the local accent there actually left me physically aching! Not for more, but because there was a very surprising amount of arm-leading going on. I'm not going into the rights or wrongs of arm leading versus body leading here, I just have a preference for and following responding technique for the latter. 

I also saw a few moves being busted out that were being styled out in a way I hadn't seen, and witnessed some cool variations. What had tickled me was that the people there had heard 'a dancer from London' was coming (a flattering simplistic description if I ever heard one), and I thought it fun that we could all take delight in each other's norms. If that makes sense.

I was jealous about how well they danced together- familiar with each other's vocabulary and pronunciations, able to anticipate one another. I felt like a newbie again, especially when combined with the social awkwardness that comes with being the stranger in the room.

I was in NYC last week and whenever in town I go back to my spiritual dance home- the studio where I first started to learn. Because of my familiarity with the accent of dancing there I found it easier than the previous example of not-London. But, the most exhilarating dances I had the entire time I was there was with a man who reminded me of dancing in Mecca (Herräng in Sweden, duh/fyi). He didn't have a dance accent although his verbal one indicated his origins from the Czech republic.

I feel like I'm rambling a bit now, but this edition of HGSG was never meant to be am arguement with a final point. But it's interesting, eh! (and supports my favourite metaphor of dancing as language :) )

Sing, Sing, Sing. Or, Just Talk.

Oh, hello! It's been a while! Sorry to have kept you waiting. Summer got in the way- because we actually had one in the UK this year- and we needed time to recharge our talking batteries. Today- a little bit about finding our voices.

...no, no, we mean figuratively. Although this is a pretty good book.

He Goes:

People often talk about partner dancing in vocal terms - call-and-response, for example, the idea that some moves are split up into so that the first half of the move is mainly about the lead, the second half mainly about the follow - a swing-out from close hold, for instance, where typically the follow is staying in place for beats one to four, and moving during beats five to eight. In a call-and-response song or chant, the point is that there are two separate voices, distinguishable and in a sense independent. The response depends on the call, obviously, in the same way that two people may answer the same question differently but their answers will relate to the question. Similarly, the same question can be asked in more than one way. The way that someone chooses to perform a lead (ask a question) or follow one (answer it) is part of one's style, or voice. 

I can't say for sure whether I have a well-defined "voice" in dancing. Since I have been specialising as a lead for many years, I feel like a lot of the learning I've done has been related to not shouting over my partner's voice - and also that I'm less than ten percent of the way through the class notes. I guess, if I think about my lead style, what I try to aim for is the sort of experienced but open tone I like to use in my professional capacity: "I think the best thing to do is this, but if you want to do it differently we can make it work". I want my lead to be unambiguous but not ineluctable - my follows, hopefully, will know exactly where I would like them to go, but not feel like they absolutely have to. That way it's comforting and relaxing (because my follow can just do what I suggest without thinking about it if she or he wants to), but also open enough for someone to put in their own touches, even do something completely different if they want to. 

It's sometimes difficult - there are people I don't know how to dance with, because they have a connection or following style I'm unfamiliar with, and then it's like two people slightly out of key trying to sing together - the words are there, the timing's right, but there's discord all over the place.

As a final point, Roger Love's opus up there at the top of this entry isn't entirely for looks, because of one thing he says quite early on which applies just as well to dance as it does to singing: when you get the chance to set your voice free, do it! Bawl it out, don't swallow it because you're afraid of people hearing (seeing) it! At least fifty percent of style is just owning the other half...

She Goes:

Ha, Keith, you are rather polite in your leading. Maybe less so with me these days. With me it's less 'would you mind awfully going over there', and more 'so, overown ere, fancy it?' The dance equivalent of calling me Miss or by my first name, perhaps.

Finding my voice is increasingly important to me. It sounds so obvious now, but even though I considered dancing to be a conversation between two people, I never really thought about (until recently) the importance of individual voices within that conversation.

I can't pinpoint exactly when my change in thinking happened... But it probably came around the time I was in Mecca. (Herräng, for our newer readers ;) ) I relaxed into my dancing more, and rather than trying to respond in an attractive way to my leads questions, I tried making impromptu suggestions to them. And I feel as though I've had good responses. 

Working on my solo jazz, as well as dipping my toe into other styles has massively helped, as I can make quips more confidently when talking. 

There are some leads who I dance with regularly who used to scare me; they'd lead a move and I wouldn't know what to do at the end of their arm or with the extra two beats that were suddenly looming... And I now consider that to be the equivalent of them asking '...and what do you think?'. Since realising that, our dances have been much more enjoyable. It's nice to be asked my opinion!

Of course there are some leads who don't really converse, and it sometimes feels like I'm being lectured, or that we are reciting a pre ordained list of calls and responses. Some ask a question and then don't wait for, or talk over my response. Some leads I always have the same conversation with. Some always have something new to say. That's not to imply that any of these are good or bad- I'm just saying! 

Following on from Keith's reflection on singing; sometimes I do feel like with certain leads it goes from conversing to singing. I can think of two leads off the bat that spring to mind. (Go back to the post 10 Things I Lindy Love About You for name explanations) 

When I dance with Mr Hat, it's like he starts humming a tune and I pick it up, and we sing the same melody and we instinctively know where the moments are for breaking away from the same note and harmonising.

When I dance with Mr Bounce, sometimes it feels more like he knows the song better than I, but it's still familiar enough to me that I can clap along and I can feel when the opportunity for harmony pops up. 

I think I'll finish with this thought. I love the singing of early Chet Baker, adore the sound of Meschiya Lake, and would give a lot to sing anywhere near as good as Ella. But really, when it comes down to it, I'm very very happy to just sound like me :)

We Go....

He and She Goes;

Ok, we admit it. Summer has distracted us, and so we'll be taking a break until September.

For those of you able to make it, however, Spoon is putting on a one-off night (and it's her birthday too, shhh!) and the more dancers who can make it, the better!

The info is on facebook but as it's an event open to the public anyone should be able to see the details. If the link doesn't work for you though, just comment and we'll post the info up.

https://www.facebook.com/events/180170098824433/

Herrang; Taking Steps With Care

He Goes:

I don't know if I've got F(ear)O(f)M(issing)O(ut) so much as FOB(eing)O(ld). When your facebook feed is full of people eating banana cake in Herräng or gelato in Como or Fish and Chips in Lowestoft or whatever the hell dancers eat in the infernal heat of Thessalonica, it's hard not to think of yourself as past the good days. I know people considerably older than me are going to be/have been at all of those events, but I have always been a terrible traveller and I'm only getting worse as I age. I never normally recommend people to be like me, but in this case I shall make it explicit. Don't be like me.

I'm going to have a little pity party now, with slightly deflated balloons. But it'll soon be over, and then I'll play Dipsy-Doodle ten times and try to get a few more phrases into the Tranky Doo. Have a spoonful of something sweeter while I'm gone.

No, not this. This ↓

She Goes:

Ah man. I hate to add to anyone's FOMO but seriously? If you even have the smallest thought that you may enjoy going, then GO! GOOOO!

Camp veterans will probably smile in a knowing and indulgant way at this post. Ahh, the enthusiasm of a first time camper. And I'm not ashamed of it. I discovered Herräng while it was happening last year (much like Swing Crash in Como), and was unable to go. Oh, how desolately unconsolable I felt!

So this year I decided to tackle it with full-spoons a'blazing. (You should know straight away that one week does not feel like enough. I will do at least two next year.)

I did week 2, and the Slow Dance track (around the intermediate-advanced level). The teachers were Skye and Frida (she is amazing), Peter and Naomi (My swing crush knows no bounds), Stephen and Sara (interesting ideas), Sugar and Barbara (all about the lead molestation!) and Daniel and Åsa (Divine dynamics through and through)

Herrang are quite particular in their musical remit, which was explained to us by Peter, and that is probably why the track was termed Slow Dance, NOT blues/lindy/ballroom. It's the first time the track has been run and all teachers were welcomed to bring their own ideas of what was what to the classes.

Daniel and Åsa's classes were more slow lindy and ballroom flavoured, and encouraged us to think about the dynamics of the dance. Contrasting speeds of figures, contrasting clean and smooth with a dirtier vibe. Although when I write that it sounds a little suspect- they showed that it is possible to have a sensual, almost raunchy slow lindy dance WITHOUT it getting vulgar or gratuitous- which I think a lot of people immediately assume happens with the slower BPM songs. They encouraged us to be a little more laid back, lazy even, with what we did, but not to lose sight of the emotional content of the dance. The main thing I took away from their lessons was to not be afraid to show my personality on the dance floor or to lose myself in the music. Also I learnt, amongst others, a nice move involving a double turn send out, double turn return and lean. Mmm.

Skye and Frida. Wow- to be in the same room as them is to finally understand what all the fuss is about. She is very much in the driving seat when it comes to the teaching, and rightly so I think. I'm sure they both practice for hours a day- but their style- especially hers- is so smooth and fluid it looks as natural as breathing. Who wouldn't want that in their life?! So it shouldn't sound surprising that they wanted us to be focused on momentum (which I was already spending a lot of time thinking about as my only means of transportation was a single speed bike!), and keeping it going even where there was not much to be done. We learnt a lovely two-phrase piece of slow lindy choreography, the majority of which is totally leadable socially. I took from the lessons a heightened awareness of my steps- as Frida so rightly said, 'If you're going to take a step, take it with care'

Peter and Naomi were great fun- him in particular. I've admired his leading from afar (meaning I've got a lot of his stuff saved on youtube) because I was immediately struck from the very first time that he seems like a lead I could click with. And it turns out we have very similar musical tastes too, after a natter after one class. He's a soul brother at heart- and that is just my cup of tea. I particularly appreciated the teaching style- stopping everybody and saying 'no, that's not right, and we're not moving on until it is' was something I actually found to be very positive. There more discussions in their classes, discussing what made a difference in a move and the subtleties of emotions conveyed. As a blues dancer himself he shared some humourous insights- and I agree with him that every dance shuld be nice but not every dance should be sexy! We did some slow lindy figures, and what I took away with me was to remember my sense of humour, and be responsible for my own footwork independently as well as in response to my leads' signals.

Sugar and Barbera were hilarious. Of an older school of dancing, their approach was more along the lines of 'we'll demonstrate it and you work it out for yourself', which was hilarious if a little frustrating. The style was mostly lindy based with some showier elements- and Barbera took special care to make sure the leg of her lead was stroked in a particular move as often as possible. I think that's something we can all get on board with! I think the main thing I learnt from them is to remember to enjoy what I'm doing and molest my lead as much as possible....!!

Stephen and Sara were the teachers I found I didn't get on so well with. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they're excellent in other formats but I found it difficult to get some of the ideas they were trying to convey, and I wasn't the only one. Being asked by a series of leads what it is they needed to do while I was trying to figure out my own steps was particularly frustrating. However, Stephen is very musical and I liked the fact that they were coming from a more ballroom-y aspect. Foxtrot, waltz, polka and tango steps all popped up in this soulful melting pot of ideas. I took away from their class the confirmation that I want to try tango this year.

I think it's also fair I mention Dawn Hampton. What a lady. She reminded us that we are dancing because we love it- and to be more mindful of that. Dancing without feeling the love is just stepping in time with the music. I got up and danced with her during the lecture I was in of hers. I'm sure the pictures will confirm what I suspect: that I was beaming from ear to ear the whole time. What a lady.

I hardly need add how fun the social dance element of this was. I was rarely in bed before 5am most nights. And oh how I miss it now.

Next year, just you wait! 

"Business"

He goes

"Business" is the term that old vaudevillians used to mean a bit in a script that was left open to the performers for general slapstick. Some bits of a script would be set, some left up to the person on stage to handle as they saw fit. I was thinking last week about whether sometimes it might be better for leads to consider their footwork as "business" or not.

Now obviously the open nature of some moves in lindy hop mean that either partner can just improvise. The extended steps of a swing-out, for instance, are notorious spots for putting in fancy footwork that might have nothing to do with the "normal" steps, or what your partner is doing. So once you're comfortably social dancing you can to some extent do what you like with your feet. I don't have anything more to say about that that isn't super-obvious.

Also, I'm not going to argue that it isn't better for us leads to learn both our footwork and our lead if we can. That would be madness.

But what I am thinking - and I don't know why I'm only really understanding this now - is that if I can only learn one part of a move in a class, it should probably be the lead. I should do the lead, and just tell my feet: business.

I've always (which is to say, before I was swing-dancing) been keen on learning how to properly lead rather than just going through a choreography, but it's only in classes with swing-style partner rotation that you realise how important it is for the poor follows. If I fail to learn my footwork it just means that I can't do a particular move. If I fail to learn the lead, there's a whole bunch of follows that get nothing from me, and I have to hope that some other lead is doing better than I am.

There are moves where the lead and the footwork are the same thing, and in those I guess I just have to suck it up and learn, but they tend to be simpler leads anyway. And footwork is quite an important part of keeping time with the music. But in general in a social dance people aren't looking at my feet, they're looking at my partner. If I give her everything she needs to dance, I can probably just forget about footwork. Indeed, late in the night when my legs are tired I can still dance, but if I'm so tired my lead starts to get lazy, everything falls apart..

Nothing profound, and I guess there will be quite a few leads reading this who roll their eyes and murmur 'well duh', but it was on my mind a bit this last week. Now over to Spoon, who is probably dancing giddily in Sweden as I type this...

"I don't know what I was expecting"

She Goes

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The One Where Keith Takes The Lead (Or Not, Arf!)

He Goes:

Since I'm predominantly a lead, for me learning to follow is largely about empathy improvement - that I'll get better as a lead if I understand what it feels like to be a follow. I guess some men (Apologies: I'm going to be a bit gender role normative in the next few paragraphs, but I hope not offensively so) do learn to follow simply because they want to be able to enjoy the follow experience, some because they feel that learning only one half of the dance is somewhat unbalanced, and some out of solidarity with their female friends who are often made to learn to lead whether they want to or not. I don't think those are bad reasons to learn - in fact, I think they're all probably much better reasons than mine. But I think it's reasonable to say that most men who learn how to follow do, like me, justify it with the thought that it will make them a better lead.

So has the little following I've done helped me, and how? Well, the first answer is simple, if unsatisfying: I can't say - my follows will have to be the judge. The second is less simple.

First of all, it's given me an acute (and perhaps uncomfortable) insight into how being a man helps with being a lead. Now, this is not to say that I think the lead role is essentially male! Just that the way I lead and therefore expect to be led is helped by the fact that I'm bigger (taller possibly, certainly more massive) than most of my follows. It's really easy to lead someone into a turn by just moving your arm if your follow moves with you because she doesn't have a choice. My mass makes it easy for me to lead people in fairly simple moves, but it also lets me off learning how to lead subtly, I think. When I'm following my leads generally don't have the same lazy option I do, so I end up missing leads or misinterpreting them. That's made me appreciate how hard following is if you have to move between leads with forceful and gentle leads, and it fills me with admiration for how leads who are much smaller than me can do the same job (and in many cases a much better one) without the benefit of sheer weight to help them lead. It's also important to remember because there are plenty of follows who can't do their best work if they're not given a light lead occasionally.

Second, I've learnt how important it is to give the right signals as a follow, and perhaps sometimes why it's impossible to tell the first time you dance with someone how good they are. When I'm following and I'm led into the open position I sometimes think it might be worth trying out some swivels.

Mistake.

I'm no good at swinging-out as a follow. I can kind-of, maybe, just-about do the steps if I really concentrate, but most of the time I can't, and styling? Forget about it. So doing swivels instead of a rock-step isn't just a bit of harmless fun, it's my hips writing a cheque my feet can't cash. When a lead (particularly a lead who can follow well her-/himself) sees that, what she's really seeing is me making a promise: you can lead me into a swing-out.

Now, I'm not saying that I get false-signals like that from follows myself - in fact, it's more the opposite: that sometimes follows understate how capable they are, possibly to avoid getting led into complicated moves before they've figured out whether the person they're dancing with is capable of them. As a lead you can try moves out to test your follow and work out what moves you should be leading (e.g. I find a lead-in-front promenade is often a good way of scoping out if I can safely lead someone into a swing out). As a follow you can't do that, so you have to get your information about your partner's ability as it comes to you, and hope that enough pieces of the jigsaw are delivered that you can build up a usable picture.

Last (for the time being) - I realise how difficult it is to keep time if your lead is off. It's not impossible, but it's quite an effort of will, and since most of my brain when I'm following is already dedicated to not doing a lead's footwork, the whole thing sometimes disintegrates into a furious mess. Now, most of the people who are willing to lead me are good enough that this isn't a problem, but it does happen, and my god is it hard to dance when it does! Next time I'm dancing to some crazy jazz song with an obscure beat, I think perhaps rather than manfully struggling to find it I might just turn to my partner, make my apologies, and ask her for a little help...

She Goes:

New job. Newness. Herräng. Packing. Dancing. Dancing. Can't focus. Bleurgh!