I am currently extremely nuts for the Portland band Midnight Serenaders‘ album Sweet Nothin’s (even though I’m unsure about that inverted comma in the title).
I bought the album from emusic this month and have been listening to it over and over. I played three songs from it at the after party I DJed on Saturday (though the first was to an empty room as I tested the sound gear): Swing Brother, Swing, Sweet Nothin’s and Who Walks in When I Walk Out?. They all went down a treat.
I really like this band: some of the musicians have bluegrass/jugband/ole timey roots, some jazz, and the steel guitarist used to be in Helmet. The female singer plays the ukelele, an instrument I have mixed feelings about. I’m not keen on the Aussie folky/community ukelele sound, but I do like it in an Hawaiian, jazznick context. I’m also fond of the way this band combines the ‘street jazz’ sound that’s very popular with some American dancers atm (a la the Loose Marbles, Cangalossi Cards, etc) with a more sophisticated studio mix. They also remind me of the Hot Club of Cowtown, which can only be an awesomely good thing.
I haven’t bought their other album Magnolia, yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
I’ve also just bought some songs from Janet Klein‘s second album Ready For You which has a similar style, but leans a little more heavily on the cutsey recreation of 20s girl singers. Klein has other albums, but I’m not so struck on the Paradise Wobble album on emusic, which is mostly vocals and ukele. I prefer Klein with the band balancing out the cutesy with some badass instrumental action.
I played That’s What You Think from Ready For You at that same after party, and it also went down a treat.
Though I have a feeling both these albums will work with dancers, I’m pretty sure the after party was kind of a loaded option: this was a crowd of post-ball dancers with a couple of drinks under their belts and a serious interest in part-aying. The presence of a few Melbourne dancers also reminded me of the seriously slow average tempos in Sydney – come on, gang, let’s get lindy hopping!
EDIT: I just bought Magnolia from the Midnight Serenaders, via CDBaby’s downloads. It was supercheap ($9.99 US/$11.92 AU) and supereasy… which isn’t a good thing for our bank account… The little I’ve heard of the album is fuuuully sick.
Category Archives: lindy hop and other dances
Armstrong and Middleton for the win
The awesomeness that is Louis Armstrong and his All Stars in 1956. Velma Middleton features prominently as the badass performer she was. Image stoled from here. Looks like Kid Ory in the background on trombone, but I could be (and probably am) mistaken.
I have a bunch of this All Star action from Armstrong, but I rarely DJ it. It is fully sick, though.
This version of All that meat (and no potatoes) is ok, but not fabulous.
They do a version of Reckless Blues which I quite like. The interesting thing about that song is that Armstrong first recorded it with Bessie Smith in 1925, then again with Middleton in 1957.
Just to demonstrate Middleton’s awesomeness, here she is with Luis Russell’s orchestra in 1942:
recent djing (is this politics?)
I haven’t been terribly happy with my DJing lately. I think part of the problem has been that I’ve been acquiring vast blobs of music from emusic and not properly assimilating them before DJing. I’ve been doing a lot of DJing (once a week at least, often more) and I haven’t had a chance to spend time with my music getting to know it properly. I’ve also done some sets at venues with very difficult sound (churchpit is the main offender here – the speakers/amp just can’t handle the huge hall), so I’ve not been able to DJ the older stuff I really love with any confidence. All this has lead to my doing sets which are ‘easy’ and lacking inspiration.
(that fabulous photo is from this site).
These fairly uninteresting sets have leaned a little too heavily on the jump blues, and blues structures generally. There’s also been far too much Jimmy Witherspoon. But I’ve also been flogging the New Orleans revival stuff like the proverbial, and recent recreationist NOR stuff at that. Not making for terribly great sets, right?
The set below is one I did at Canberräng the weekend before last.
Canberräng 7 August 2009 9:00-10:30pm
Blue Monday Jay McShann and his Band with Jimmy Witherspoon 125 1957 Goin’ To Kansas City Blues 3:40
Drinkin’ Wine, Spo-Dee-O-Dee Lionel Hampton and his Orchestra with Sonny Parker 134 1949 Hamp: The Legendary Decca Recordings 3:24
King Porter Stomp Kansas City Band 170 1997 KC After Dark 4:38
Gimme A Pigfoot Lavern Baker 120 1958 La Vern Baker Sings Bessie Smith 3:11
Big Fine Girl Jimmy Witherspoon with Roy Eldridge, Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins, Woody Herman, Earl Hines, Vernon Alley, Mel Lewis 156 1959 The ‘Spoon Concerts 4:55
C-Jam Blues Lincoln Centre Jazz Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis 143 1999 Live In Swing City: Swingin’ With Duke 3:34
Blues In Hoss’s Flat Count Basie and his Orchestra 144 1958 Chairman Of The Board [Bonus Tracks] 3:13
Sent For You Yesterday Count Basie and his Orchestra with Joe Williams 163 1960 The Count Basie Story (Disc 2) 3:10
Roll ‘Em Pete Count Basie and his Orchestra with Joe Williams 215 1957 At Newport 3:01
I Ain’t Mad At You Mildred Anderson 158 1960 No More In Life 3:04
Rag Mop Bob Crosby and the Bobcats 164 1950 Bob Crosby and the Bobcats: The Complete Standard Transcript 2:15
The One I Love Belongs To Somebody Else Boilermaker Jazz Band 161 2006 You Do Something To Me 3:46
Paper Moon Monica Trapaga with Bob Barnard, Paul Furniss, David Blenkhorn, Peter Locke, David Seidel, Andrew Dickeson, Monica Trapaga 140 2006 Sugar 4:05
Tishomingo Blues Carol Ralph 128 2005 Swinging Jazz Portrait 4:15
If You’re A Viper New Orleans Jazz Vipers 156 2004 Live On Frenchmen Street 3:57
Lavender Coffin Lionel Hampton and his Orchestra with Sonny Parker and Joe James 134 1949 Hamp: The Legendary Decca Recordings 2:47
On Revival Day Lavern Baker 144 1958 Lavern Sings Bessie Smith 3:16
The Jumpin’ Blues Jay McShann and his Band with Jimmy Witherspoon 155 1957 Goin’ To Kansas City Blues 3:04
It was actually just the right set to play for that crowd at that time. It was the second set of the night (and weekend) at a crowded bar/restaurant where there wasn’t much room for dancing. The venue management was a bit very intrusive, commenting on the music (and turning the volume up and down!) and generally making things difficult. It was a mixed crowd of dancers, but not a whole lot of experienced dancers who’re interested in older music. There wasn’t really room to bust out with badass lindy hop either. So I went for the ‘partyhardy’ beer-and-laughs approach. I quite like this sort of set for starting off a weekend – loud, shouting choruses, simple rhythms, call and response sections, familiar songs, lots of energy, lots of hi-fi. It went down very well.
(Image lifted from here.
EDIT: If you’re liking this Bill Steber photo, I’ve linked to a few more here.)
After I’d warmed them up a bit, I shifted to the NOR stuff (well, that’s how I’m thinking of it, even though it’s not strictly accurate for most of these bands). That went down quite well as well. I also tried to get with the wave, moving up and down through the tempos, which I’ve not been doing so well lately.
Overall, I was happy with the set – it did as it should, the organisers were happy with it, the venue manager was happy with it, the dancers had fun. It wasn’t totally awesome for lindy hop, but then there wasn’t really room for awesome lindy hop. It was a beer and laughs partyhardy set.
But this is the sort of stuff I’ve been DJing lately, and I’m just not happy with it. As a dancer I’d be very disappointed. Partly because it’s just the same old same old; there’s nothing new or interesting there.
In contrast, here’s a set I did at the Churchpit gig last Friday:
Swingpit 14 August 2009 10:30pm-midnight
Solid as a Rock Count Basie and his Orchestra with The Deep River Boys 140 1950 Count Basie and His Orchestra 1950-1951 3:04
Oh! Gram’pa Cab Calloway and his Orchestra 147 1947 Are You Hep To The Jive? 3:04
Shout, Sister, Shout Lucky Millinder and his Orchestra with Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Buster Bailey 140 1941 Apollo Jump 2:45
Just Kiddin’ Around Artie Shaw and his Orchestra 159 1941 Self Portrait (Disc 3) 3:21
Davenport Blues Adrian Rollini and his Orchestra with Jack Teagarden 136 1934 Father Of Jazz Trombone 3:14
Madame Dynamite Eddie Condon and his Orchestra (Pee Wee Russell, Eddie Condon, Sidney Catlett) 176 1933 Classic Sessions 1927-49 (Volume 2) 2:56
Summit Ridge Drive Artie Shaw and his Gramercy Five 128 1940 Self Portrait (Disc 2) 3:21
A Viper’s Moan Willie Bryant and his Orchestra with Teddy Wilson, Cozy Cole 153 1935 Willie Bryant 1935-1936 3:26
Hot Spot Blues Leo Mathisen’s Orkester 167 1942 Leo Mathiesen 1942-43 Terrific Rhythm 3:06
Joog, Joog Duke Ellington and his Orchestra 146 1949 Duke Ellington and his Orchestra: 1949-1950 3:01
Paper Moon Monica Trapaga with Bob Barnard, Paul Furniss, David Blenkhorn, Peter Locke, David Seidel, Andrew Dickeson, Monica Trapaga 140 2006 Sugar 4:05
Gimme A Pigfoot Lavern Baker 120 1958 La Vern Baker Sings Bessie Smith 3:11
Keep On Churnin’ (01-09-52) Wynonie Harris 146 1952 Complete Jazz Series 1950 – 1952 2:56
Sent For You Yesterday (And Here You Come Today) Count Basie and his Orchestra with Jimmy Rushing 172 1952 Complete Clef/Verve Count Basie Fifties Studio Recordings (Disc 2) 3:13
Big Fat Mama Lucky Millinder and his Orchestra with Trevor Bacon, Buster Bailey 135 1941 Apollo Jump 3:09
Bearcat Shuffle Andy Kirk and his Twelve Clouds of Joy with Mary Lou Williams 160 1936 The Lady Who Swings the Band – Mary Lou Williams with Any Kirk and his Clouds of Joy 3:01
Peckin’ Johnny Hodges and his Orchestra 165 1937 The Duke’s Men: Small Groups Vol. 1 (Disc 2) 3:10
Truckin’ Henry ‘Red’ Allen and His Orchestra 171 1935 Henry Red Allen ‘Swing Out’ 2:54
The Basement Blues (low-downer than any low down blues) Nobel Sissle and his Orchestra with Sidney Bechet 153 1931 Ken Burns Jazz Collection: Sidney Bechet 3:16
Georgia Bo Bo Graeme Bell and his Australian Jazz Band 137 1952 Graeme Bell the AMI Australian Recordings 2:40
Bli-Blip Jonathan Stout and his Campus Five 140 2007 Moppin’ And Boppin’ 2:44
Flat Foot Floogie Carol Ralph 186 2005 Swinging Jazz Portrait 3:44
Massachusetts Maxine Sullivan 147 1956 A Tribute To Andy Razaf 3:19
Blues In Hoss’s Flat Count Basie and his Orchestra 144 1958 Chairman Of The Board [Bonus Tracks] 3:13
John Silver Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra 155 1938 Swingsation: Charlie Barnet and Jimmy Dorsey 3:15
Turn It Over Bus Moten and his Men 148 1949 Kansas City Blues 1944-1949 (Disc 3) 2:38
Don’t Falter At The Altar Cab Calloway 138 Are You Hep To The Jive? 2:44
All This Beef And Big Ripe Tomatoes Julia Lee, Cleophus Berry, William ‘Bill’ Nolan, Franz Bruce, Clairborne Graves, Elmer W. Price 143 1951 Kansas City Star (disc 5) 2:09
Laughing In Rhythm Slim Gaillard and his Peruvians 142 1951 Laughing In Rhythm: The Best Of The Verve Years 2:56
Algiers Stomp Mills Blue Rhythm Band with Henry ‘Red’ Allen, J.C. Higgenbotham, George Washington, Edgar Hayes, Lucky Millinder 219 1936 Mills Blue Rhythm Band: Harlem Heat 3:08
I Diddle Dinah Washington 153 Dinah Washington with Quincy Jones 3:05
This is a regular fortnightly event in a large church hall. The sound can be really, really difficult as the speakers/amp just aren’t big enough for this big, echoey space, but this time the room had been rearranged and the sound was a bit better. It’s usually a newer crowd of dancers – people who’ve only been dancing less than six months or so. It can include more experienced, hard core dancers, though. The hall actually has a great floor and is really good for spreading out with big, fat lindy. But there’s no bar and it really is a bit churchpit. But there you go.
I quite like doing these sorts of gigs with the newer dancers because newer dancers tend not to have any preconceptions or biases about the music. They’re only just beginning to get to know the dance, and they’re usually a-flush with post-class endorphines and excitement. They just love dancing. Most of the ones who do this class regularly also bring their own beer and snacks and make a bit of a party of it, which is also nice. I like DJing for these guys because they tend to just dance when the music moves them. And I’ve found with this crowd (as with the Funpit doods in Melbourne) that they respond best to four-on-the-floor straight-ahead swing. The less NOR the better. They like a bit of jump blues or 12-bar blues structure stuff, but they really go off with the ‘proper’ swing. They’re suprisingly willing to tackle higher tempos and are far more flexible about this than many experienced dancers (mostly because no one’s yet told them that something’s ‘too fast’). They don’t actually say any of these things – I’m just working on what I see.
That night I followed Miss Bonnet, who was DJing one of her (if not the) first sets. She did a great job – lots of favourites, good working of tempos and volume, nice combinations of styles. I danced. I wanted to keep up her good energy, so I came in with something familiar – Solid as a Rock – something at a nice, easy tempo, with lots of clapping and fun vocals. I also wanted to segue to some older, solid swing stuff, and this is a nice, tricky way of getting there.
I’ve been listening to my music on the bus using an ipod lately, and it’s really helped me get back into my own music. I’ve also been thinking about DJing more lately, and actually done some practice. I’m also dancing more myself, and that’s been really important. I’m not sure I did such an awesome job with the wave, tempo-wise, though. The floor was full all night, though, and I Noticed that the dancers favoured the solid swing/four-on-the-floor stuff above all else. Which just goes to show – lindy hop is built for that action. It swings, it’s simpler rhythmically (and in terms of arrangement), and it matches the stuff students learn in class. The class before had been doing 20s charleston and a range of charleston variations to faster music (though not to what I’d term ‘charleston music’), so they were set up for faster, solid beats.
I challenged myself to avoid the stuff I’d played in that Canberräng set, though I did cave with Lavern Baker and Wynonie Harris, then the Basie with Rushing, but then it was back to business with a bit of Lunceford transitioning back to Andy Kirk goodness. The Wynonie Harris is very popular here atm, and it’s actually great for shifting gears and injecting some energy into the room. Instead of thinking ‘oh, I’ll just continue on to more of this blues-type stuff’, I thought ‘I’ll just inject this here, then get back to business’. And it worked. I currently love, love, love that Davenport Blues by Rollini and his band, partly because I have this THING for Jack Teagarden. And because I’m listening to quite a bit of hot Chicago action at the moment (finally – I move north from New Orleans!), I followed up with Madame Dynamite, which I also love. These are new songs to me, but much loved. I’ve found both go down really, really well with dancers.
It’s round about there that I was working a sort of emotional wave – Artie Shaw had taken things up and people were nuts, but because there were a lot of noobs, I figured a little rest with the mellower Rollini was in order. During the Shaw song a few doods had gotten going with some Madison, which suited the song perfectly and spread like a virus as people started joining in and learning the fairly simple routine. It was actually a lovely moment, as all sorts of people got into it and had a really fun time. It lifted the energy in the room noticeably, and I felt the ‘lindy hop vibe’, the ‘let’s get serious’ vibe. So I figured I’d keep to the olden days stuff and work that vibe.
(The Madison takes on.)
Most of the songs I played are old favourites – no surprises with A Viper’s Moan. But this is a new crowd of dancers, and I’ve found that most of the ‘old favourites’ like VM aren’t played much here at all. Which is fine by me, as I love that shit – they’re not favourites for nothing. Anyways, I moved wave-like from Rollini through to Joog Joog. 
Hot Spot is something I rediscovered lately. Mathisen is a Danish musician who sounds a lot like Fats Waller, and I lovelovelove his (marvelously restored) CDs I bought from Little Beat Records. So I gave this a whirl. The recording isn’t so great for that particular space – the higher and lower parts get lost – but it’s such a fun song, it worked out ok. It’s the type of song that’d work well with a stroll I think.
But Joog Joog was a return to the vocals and also signalled my change in style.
Paper Moon is by a local singer (as in, from my actual suburb), and goes down well. The band in that recording are freaking A1 as well. I think of that as a real beginner’s song, because I learnt to dance to it in Brisbane in 1998. Then came that brief reversion moment.
Then back to Lunceford and then to Kirk. Peckin’ and Truckin’ went down a treat – I love those two played together, for obvious reasons. Then some Noble Sissle (yay!). Georgia Bo Bo is another Aussie act, but this didn’t work quite so well with the crowd. NOR. Bah. So some Campus Five to recover.
This crowd of noobs was getting pretty tired by now, but they were really doing well – two hours of classes then so much social dancing is tricky when you have no dance fitness. The next chunk is a bit random. I thought John Silver, my pirate song would work. Fail. People danced to every single song from here, and the floor was full. Algiers Stomp was a response to a request for ‘bal’, and actually sparked so much interest I regretted not playing more faster songs earlier. That’ll teach me to go with my preconceptions rather than actually working the crowd.
It was a nice night, actually. There were quite a few out of towners visiting, and rather than doing a proper ‘welcome dance’, we paused so they could be introduced. Which was also nice, because the crowd were feeling very friendly and spontaneously applauded. Unusual, but actually very friendly. There was also a birthday, and the two birthday kids had requested a special song which was played between the two DJ sets. This can go either way, particularly when people supply their own song. But they’d worked out a sort of mini routine, and it was pretty fun. We all then carried on with the usual ‘happy birthday’ jam, and it was a friendly, fun one. At one point I back announced the Carol Ralph song, because she’s playing at the dance this Saturday. I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but I really like Ralph, and her music is always really popular with dancers. On that particular night Flat Foot Floogie went down a treat (as it usually does), so I figured people might like to know that she was playing a dance with her band, and that CDs would be available.
Overall, I was happy with this set, happier than I’ve been with my DJing in ages. A return to my preferred musical styles. The Squeeze sat behind me programming on his laptop through all this, not dancing or even talking to anyone. He had a lovely time. And I kept making him pay attention to how “four-on-the-floor is the BEST!” It wasn’t the best set I’ve ever done, and I didn’t push any boundaries, music-wise, but I hope this is a return to the good stuff of yore. And that I’ll stay hard enough to play it. Or, more importantly, I’ll work on my DJing and music knowledge a bit more so that I can make it work, regardless.
I have a bit of DJing this Saturday – doing band breaks for the Carol Ralph dance and then a set at the after party. I hope it goes well. I’m mostly just happy to get into the gig for free!
what makes a good jam?
Not, foodie friends, a post about preserves. But a post about jam circles and the dance ‘jam’.
When you say ‘jam’ to most lindy hoppers, they think of that exciting moment at a dance when a particularly exciting song prompts dancers to freekin BRING IT. A couple lights up and dances like serious badasses. The appropriate (and instinctive response) is to watch and cheer and goad them on. In the olden days, if the floor was crowded (as it usually was), a little space would clear around the dances to give them room to really bring it. These days, a circle (often ridiculously big) forms in an unnatural way to allow room for a little entertainment. Today, the initial couple are often replaced by other couples, one after another, entering the cleared circle at the end of a phrase. The dancers crowded around clap and cheer and egg on the ‘performers’.
My favourite jam sees dancers crowded close (risking losing an eye), and couples pushing to get in there and show off. The energy in the room leaps and I feel like screaming like a crazy fool. Sometimes I do.
My least favourite jam is ‘staged’. In the very worst case scenario someone announces “We’re going to have a jam now,” and couples enter the circle in a very formal, almost staged order, to pull out very staged, rehearsed sequences of steps. There is no spontaneity, there is no excitement, and often, there’s no me – I’ve gone to the bar for a drink.
My favourite jams are usually to live bands – a band simply brings the energy up and dancers freekin lose their biscuits (in a non-vomiting way).
Jams aren’t a new idea, by any means. Forming a circle into which dancers enter and ‘perform’ is as old as Africa in African American vernacular dance, is found in indigenous Australian dance, in European folk dance and most other dance cultures around the world. The performance ranges from formalised, ritualised and highly prescriptive to ecstatic, out of control, crazed. Audiences are encouraged to participate – to clap and cheer, to sing or chant along, to exclaim; to respond.
DJing jams can be a bit tricky. I’ve done quite a few now, and I kind of have a feeling about the types of songs to play and the way I can develop the energy in a room to the point where that spontaneous group-hysteria showing off happens*. These sorts of jams usually happen at an exchange or special event, somewhere when people are relaxed and ready to partyhardy, when they’re out of town or hosting guests, excited by new dance partners and music and DJs or bands. I usually find them happening on the first night of an exchange, later in the night, or at a late night during the weekend.
If I’m DJing, I’ve been gradually working the energy and tempos up, so people are charged with those happy hormones and really having a good time. I make sure I work ‘the wave’**, giving people lower tempos to rest and higher tempos to challenge them, keep their heart rates up. I also try to play higher energy songs with that fat, four-on-the-floor rhythm that makes it impossible to mistake the beat. Old school, classic big band swing is most effective in these situations, and I tend to avoid lyrics. Lyrics tend to anchor the meaning of the song – like labels or titles on a photo – and I like instrumentals for the way they feature groups and individual instruments rather than just showcasing one singer. The most important part of this working up of the crowd is mood and emotion. They have to be feeling really, really good. Not just a couple of experienced, hardcore lindy hoppers, but the whole room, from the dancers to the people watching on the side lines. Otherwise you get a kind of emotion-sink, where the good vibe drains away. When the whole room is involved, the energy increases exponentially, as people add their good feelings to the mix.
I don’t really know how to explain what it feels like to be in there, on that type of dance floor, in that type of room. I think of the process of getting there as ‘warming the room’, literally and figuratively. I find that if I’m DJing, I have to actually be in there with the dancers, feeling the good feelings. It helps if I’m DJing standing up. It doesn’t work if I’m not invested as well.
But when I have them there, before they’ve peaked and are on the dowhill slope to exhaustion, I suddenly drop in a badass ‘jam’ song. These are songs that I have either tried before with dancers and seen result in a jam, or which feel like the sort of songs that make it impossible to stand still. They’re usually higher tempos, because higher tempos usually mean higher energy. Just freakin exciting, like quick cuts in a film, or quick exchanges of dialogue, or jerky movements in an action film. I also like higher tempos because they’re challenging – we want to see badassery in a jam, and we’re often moved to stare at or be impressed by faster, badass dancing. But it’s not really just being a ‘good dancer’ that’s important here – you have to really bring it, bring some attitude or emotion or delight or excitement or awesome physical sense of the music.
But when I say ‘challenging’, I don’t mean a song that’s particularly difficult, melodically speaking. The best jam songs usually have straight forward rhythms – four on the floor and no cheating, as Basie said. That’s the simple, straightforward 4/4 time. We’re usually up around 200-250bpm, so you’re looking at about 4 beats per second. Which works out at at least 4 steps per second, usually more because we like syncopated rhythms in lindy hop. That’s a fair bit faster than your resting heart rate. But that rhythm, that beat has to be insistent and consistent. Bam-bam-bam-bam throughout. This is maintained by the engine room of the band – the rhythm section. Basie stuff is awesome for jams, mostly because his rhythm section was just so tight and pumping. Basie on piano, Jo Jones on drums, Freddy Green on guitar and Walter Page on bass. Just chunking away through those big band songs.
Here’s one of my favourite Basie songs, Jumpin’ At The Woodside. Recording in 1939, this is one of the most-played, best-known Basie songs. You can easily argue that it’s overplayed. It is. But for good reason.
It’s not slow. At about 230bpm, it’s twice as fast as your average pop song. But it swings so you don’t feel rushed. Each beat is delayed; it’s not bashed into, no one’s rushing to reach the next beat. The intro is super exciting. Basie marks out the time with a nice, solid lower-register piano, then the other three parts of the rhythm section come in, one 8 (or two bars) at a time, until by the end of the first phrase you have a nice, fat, chunky rhythm that shouts “DANCE!”
I don’t usually play this song intending a jam circle, but I do find that if it’s dropped into the room at just the right moment, people lose control.
(That’s a picture from MLX6. I was actually playing Jumpin’ At The Woodside there, but the 1960 version which is a bit quicker and a bit clearer. It’s not quite as awesome as the 1939 version, but it’s pretty freakin great.)
Jumpin’ At The Woodside also one of those songs that’s often played deliberately to inspire a jam, so dancers are wired to read it as ‘jam song!’
But one song is often not quite enough for a crowd of crazy jammin’ dancing fools. I’m also quite fond of some Jimmie Lunceford, songs like Runnin’ Wild have the right sort of chunky rhythm, but Lunceford Special has that same pulse-stirring introduction.
Lionel Hampton’s 1942 Flying Home has the right feel, but is a little slow for a really pumping jam. (it’s only about 190bpm).
I might play this as a sort of prod to get dancers in the mood. It’s an iconic track, one which dancers know well. Not in small part because of this sequence from Spike Lee’s film Malcolm X:
Frankie Manning was a consultant for this sequence, and the scene is in no small part a homage to various iconic historic lindy hop sequences (including the longer ‘jitterbug contest’ scene from the soundie Keep Punchin).
So Flying Home isn’t exactly go-to gear for a jam, but it’s useful for the way it pumps up energy in the room and gets people thinking about showing off. Having said that, it’s so iconic, that playing it at the wrong time can just sound cheesy. If you’re playing for a crowd of experienced dancers who’ve been round for a while, it mightn’t be quite quick enough to get their pulses up, and it might bring back uncomfortable memories of earlier days wearing zoot suits.
What exactly makes for a good song for a jam, then?
High energy songs with a good, solid beat. I like a big band, an instrumental, something that sits solidly in the swing era, the lindy hop era – the mid 30s to early 40s, leaning on the late 30s. Something familiar is good, because dancers are better able to hit breaks and really show off.
Exactly which song I play will depend on the crowd. ‘Fast’ is relative and really is determined by the experiences and preferences of the crowd. Same goes for ‘familiar’. But I do insist on something with a solid beat. I also avoid that later 50s sound, or a sort of shuffle super-groove, super-swinging rhythm. I like a nice, solid, built like a brick shithouse beat.
When to stop?
Often when I’ve played that one song, people are raring to go, wanting more. I’ll often oblige with a second song. Something faster, something madder, but in the same style. But I won’t do more than two songs, not unless the room is really going off, with couples fighting to get into the jam. If I see energy lagging, the crowd losing interest, the performers pulling out the same-old, same-old shtick, if I see those performers getting a bit full of themselves and not sharing the spotlight, I’ll not play a second song. I certainly won’t play a third. My goal is to use a jam to lift the energy in the room to climax point. I want everyone in the room to feel it. I usually follow up with something high energy, but much slower – 160bpm is nice, but I can go lower. I want that next song to say ‘this is not a jam’. I want it to say ‘get on the floor everyone!’ I’ve noticed that if I time it right, all the kids watching will swarm onto the floor. If a DJ leaves it too late, lets things go on too long, the energy fizzles out and things get a bit embarrassing.
*There are few things finer than the dance-and-music inspired group hysteria of social dancing, where you lose control of your body (not in a bowel-loosening way, thankfully), you become totally uninhibited, and it’s like you’re dancing all the best dances in the world, right then. The room is physically and emotionally hot, and your body is running with awesome endorphines, adrenaline, all those good-time drugs.
** Where the tempos move up and down through a ‘wave’ – eg 120bpm – 140bpm – 160bpm – 180bpm – 140bpm – 150bpm etc
amiri baraka at last
Finally, I’ve made it to Amiri Baraka (aka LeRoi Jones). It’s taken way too long.
I’ve just read this: Jazz and the White Jazz Critic. I didn’t read it there (in a google books page that make me suddenly think ‘what the fuck do we bother with publishers and book deals? All our rights as authors are dead with this one new technology… which really just does as the photocopier did for us all 20 years ago, but faster). I read it in a paper book.
And I got excited.
And then I went here and read that story. But mostly I looked at the youtube clip and got a bit excited.
I recommend the Jazz and White Critics article, as it sums up my misgivings about the jazznick fanmags and magazines and newsletters and recreationists.
Here’s one bit I like:
There were few ‘jazz critics’ in America at all until the ‘30s and then they were influenced to a large extent by what Richard Hadlock has called ‘the carefully documented gee-whiz attitude’ of the first serious European jazz critics. They were also, as a matter of course, influenced more deeply by the social and cultural mores of their own society. And it is only natural that their criticism, whatever its intentions, should be a product of that society, or should reflect at least some of the attitudes and thinking of that society, even if not directly related to the subject they were writing about, Negro music (Baraka 138).
And here’s another:
Most jazz critics began as hobbyists or boyishly brash members of the American petite bourgeoisie, whose only claim to any understanding about the music was that they knew it was different; or else they had once been brave enough to make a trip into a Negro slum to hear their favorite instrumentalists defame Western musical tradition. Most jazz critics were (and are) not only white middle-class Americans, but middle-brows as well (Baraka 140.)
This article is important because it was written by a black man in the 60s, and published in Down Beat magazine. I can’t remember whether Down Beat was moldy fig or modernist, but I think it was the latter. I cannot tell you how rare it is to come across a commentary by a black writer on jazz from the 60s or earlier. Doing all this reading of ‘jazz histories’ I’m beginning to think I might have to kill myself. It’s tedious. I like Baraka’s comment about ‘gee-whiz’ approaches to jazz. I was just saying to The Squeeze the other day that I’d have liked one of these guys to stop gushing about how wonderful jazz is, and to actually open their freakin eyes and see what’s going on around and beside the music. Hells, even in the music!
I’m gearing up for Blues People and will report back later.
jjj’s hottest 100: where was Lil Armstrong?!
John has posted an interesting piece about JJJ’s Hottest 100 and I thought I’d better comment at length here rather than cluttering up the comments thread there. I will annotate for those who haven’t been following the twitterati/bloggy chat.
[Point raised by others: the hottest 100 was a bit 90s-nostalgia trip for blokes who were teenagers in the 90s]
JJJ and Rage have always felt a bit 90s-nostalgia to me. But perhaps that’s because the 90s were about the last time I listened to mainstream music…
I was wondering where Blondie, Siouxie and the Banshees and other punker chicks were at in the hottest 100?
[This is where I get into some stuff I’ve been thinking about]
To be honest, I wouldn’t really expect JJJ’s list of ‘hottest 100’ songs to come up with anything particularly inclusive or properly representative of rock (let alone the broader music world). It’s a list made by listeners of one particular (state funded national) radio station in one particular historical moment, so audience demographics, radio playlists and radio/record company relationships are going to be the guiding factors.
I’d be more interested in 4ZZZ’s list – localised indy music? Or in comparing hottest 100 lists from different radio stations and then different media sources generally.
[Here I address a bigger couple of issues]
Someone noted that I should respect the opinions of the women voting in the hottest 100. If not, wouldn’t that also be neglecting women’s contributions?
My response is that this approach simply accepts the broader social and institutional factors that have lead us to this point. It is more the case that the hottest 100 and the way it is run and organised is at fault, and that it’s more useful to discuss the way the music industry works, and to think about the audiences of JJJ and popular music generally. In other words, I do not accept the premise of the question – that it is not JJJ that is at fault, but women (and their voting or failure to rock).
Firstly, here’s a point that’s been raised by a couple of books I’ve been reading about women in jazz (Placksin and Dahl, primarily):
women have been making music forever. It’s just that the music industry has not recognised this. Both Placksin and Dahl point out that the profound absence of women in jazz histories is in fact a complete fallacy. There are and have always been plenty of women in jazz. It’s just that they haven’t been scoring recording contracts, haven’t had properly managed careers, haven’t been promoted or even hired by venues or band leaders, and haven’t even been allowed into bands in many cases. Placksin and Dahl produce a massive list of fully sick jazznick sisters, and make the point that there _were_ plenty of women in jazz. We just have to look beyond the popularly accepted myths about jazz history.
So, in reference to the Hottest 100, there are heaps of women who rock. It’s just that people aren’t seeing or hearing them. Who are these people?
a) the DJs playing music on the radio,
b) the station programmers making up playlists,
c) the record company promotions teams who aren’t sending promo material to radio stations,
d) the record companies who aren’t putting women musicians under contract,
e) the company and radio peeps who aren’t looking beyond their own memories of the music world – they’re not actually getting into the library to see what’s there,
f) the audiences of these radio stations who are (voting) and buying/listening to music,
g) and of course the machinery of live music, where bands get their starts – the venues and festivals and so on simply aren’t giving chicks a go. If women even feel comfortable asking.
So, there are fully sick women musicians.
There are fully sick women musicians who rock.
There are fully sick women musicians being recorded.
There are fully sick women musicians playing live gigs all the time.
It’s more that the problem is with the music industry not promoting their music, and that the music industry itself is inimical to any type of professionalism which is not aggressive, competitive, misogynist, etc. It’s not that it’s even a masculinist culture; it’s more that a particular set of skills and personality traits are required. And these tend to coincide with hegemomic masculinity.
Sigh. Just once, I’d like this not to be about the goddamn fucking patriarchy. Or capitalism.
[This is where I think about industrial and cultural factors which might prevent/discourage women from getting into bands/rock]
I was just reading an interesting discussion of the way different instruments are perceived as ‘female’ or ‘male’ (Dahl). This was an issue in the 20s and 30s – there’s a famous quote from Jelly Roll Morton where he states that there was some concern that playing the piano would sissify him (and this from such an aggressively heterosexual man). Looking through jazz history for women musicians who played instruments (other than vocals), there’s a preponderance of pianists. In the 10s, 20s and 30s the piano was an acceptably ladylike instrument, as was the voice. This is not to say that there weren’t women playing guitars, trombones, trumpets (the most masculine of 1930s instruments), etc. It’s just that they weren’t recorded and didn’t feature on stage in a big way until the war years, when all-girl bands became a novelty. Even though bands like the International Sweethearts of Rhythm were massively badass, and bands led by people like Lil Hardin Armstrong had a very long history of badassery and fully sick jazz roots and cred.
I wonder if 90s grunge was important for stimulating a garage band phenomenon which offered young blokes something else to do in the garage beyond fiddling about with cars? There’s also that story about Seattle’s climate facilitating the development of such a vibrant live music scene (similar comments are made about lindy hop today – Seattle has a massive lindy scene, in part – I suspect – because indoor activities suit rainy, miserable weather). But part of me is sure that all the time spent fiddling about with instruments has something to do with the way girls and boys are encouraged to spend their leisure time – domestic duties for girls, guitars for boys?
[Here is where I testify and you hear a lot about me. And me.]
I spend quite a bit of time in music shops (usually the DJ Warehouse, but often a music store when I’m looking for cables), and I am almost always (as in 99.99% of the time) the only woman in there. I’ve never dealt with a female retail worker. I have the same experience in jazz music shops. I don’t mind this, really. I’m used to being around blokes, and I’m not exactly your conventionally feminine chick. I’m not adverse to kicking arse and taking names. But more importantly, I’m stubborn and determined, and it’ll take more than a cock to distract me from purchasing the perfect headphones.
I’m a DJ rather than a musician, and the mainstream DJing scene seems just as male-dominated as the band scene. In swing (where I’m DJing), most top tier DJs are male, whereas the gender divide is fairly even in the everyday, bread and butter DJing. ie, women and men are doing the everyday DJing for regular events (keeping the local scenes going), but there are very, very few women at the top end, doing the big name interstate and international DJing.
Sound familiar? Looks like there are glass ceilings in the swinguverse too.
This is partly because of social/cultural factors: DJing is an intimidating world, with an emphasis on technology and a fairly intimidating culture. Women DJs are no more collaborative and supportive of new DJs than male (I’ve found), but they’re less likely to speak up in online DJing talk and less likely to pursue a DJing career aggressively. They do good community stuff, men can do good community stuff, but male DJs tend to have the skills and appproach required by professional DJing.
Economics are also important. DJing requires:
– A fairly steady income (which can be frittered away on music, software, hardware, etc),
– copious amounts of time (to spend cataloguing music, dealing with tossers in music shops, practicing, learning to use technology, researching music, participating in online DJ talk (networking, skilling up, etc), etc).
Basically, you need time and money to get a certain skill and experience base.
– Actually getting gigs also demands some serious networking, and it’s very masculine, male-dominated networking: you have to really work hard to get into the gang if you want good, high profile, paid gigs.
Working conditions are challenging.
– Once you’re actually there, the hours are hard (late nights, long hours, lots of coming home late by yourself), dealing with the technology can be challenging (working in shitty venues with shitty gear) and there’s quite a bit of pressure – you’re responsible for entertaining a bunch of dancers, you have to be assertive enough to not get screwed over by event coordinators and also confident enough to put your hand up for challenging gigs.
All of these are the usual, familiar issues facing women in employment. I think that many of these issues face women in bands as well. While no one in the swinguverse has ever said (or even implied) to me that women shouldn’t be DJs (like to see them try), the work and role are heavily gendered in the sort of sneaky, invisible way that we see in many other industries.
And girls in bands, of course, have to deal with record companies, with PR machinery, with radio networks, with the importance of visual presentation (ie what they look like), video clips, etc etc etc.
Add all this to the fact that a large proportion of teenage blokes have been trained to think of women only as boobs with legs, should we be at all surprised that JJJ’s Hottest 100 didn’t sport a higher proportion any women?
Fuck, I’m surprised. And it’ll be a sad day when we stop commenting.
Blogging commentary:
The Hoydens have had at it already.
Stubborn mule has given us some figures re the list’s favouring the 90s.
John brings it (after a long stream of interesting tweetage, btw).
Something to remind you:
What is male privilege? (I have to add: even writing that makes me cringe in anticipation of a kick from some bloke. I’ve spent far too long in the swing world, which is so scarily patriarchal even I’ve absorbed it. egads.)
Book references:
Dahl, Linda. Stormy Weather: the Music and Lives of a Century of Jazz Women. Limelight: NY, 1992.
Placksin, Sally. Jazzwomen: 1900 to the Present. Pluto Press: London and Sydney, 1982.
charleston is really tedious
This photo (from Camp Jitterbug’s solo charleston comp this year) by the very talented Bryant Gover just proves it.
I’m not sure of the ethics of posting a pic I found on faceplant on my blog, but think of this as promotion for this photographer’s work. It’s tricky to find a photographer who can not only take a good pic, but a good pic of dancers that really captures the feel of the dance. This one is of Hurley and, by geebs, it’s sweet.
duke ellington’s ‘difficult’ 1949/1950 period
I’m trying to get a better grip on my ever-increasing collection of music. I’m finding that my DJing is suffering from both my time off the dance floor and my spending on emusic. Emusic in particular challenges me, because it means I’m buying one or two songs rather than whole albums and as a result not getting to know an artist or particular period in depth.
So here’s something about one CD I’ve just been listening to this afternoon.
I like it that Ellington stuff from the very late 40s and early 50s can be so challenging. Almost good for lindy hop. But then, also often experimenting with dissonance in a way that dancers can’t quite handle. This Ellington collection from 1949-50 is an excellent example. Track listing? Here:
1949:
You Of All People
Creole Love Call
The Greatest There Is
Snibor
The World Is Waiting For The Sunrise
Joog, Joog
Good Woman Blues
On The Sunny Side Of The Street
B-Sharp Boston
1950:
Hello Little Boy
The Greatest There Is!
Perdido
Take The “A” Train
Untitled Blues
Oscalypso
Blues For Blanton
Mean Ol’Choo Choo
Me And My Wig
How Blue Can You Get
Juke Bop Boogie
Set ‘Em Up
New Piano Roll Blues
The Man I Love
I picked this one up on Chron Classics a few years ago, and really like the combination of songs. Chron Classics are just that – a chronological (and complete) collection of songs by an artist (or featuring them) during a specific period. But the development of Ellington’s style is quite marked in just these two years, on one album of ‘singles’. When I first bought it I was spending a lot of time on public transports and reading Gunther Schuller’s Swing book. I’d combine listening to music with reading Schuller on PT via The Squeeze’s ipod. Ellington had such a long career, and was so musically interesting, it’s no wonder Schuller devoted such a long chapter to him. Or that I kept coming back to him on the ipod.
I play ‘Joog Joog’ a lot for dancers. And ‘B Sharp Boston’. ‘Joog Joog’ has an unusual beginning, and dancers are never quite sure about it. But the beat is insistent – you _will_ dance to this medium-tempo song. But there are a few here that are really quite… unusual. Ellington was interested in dissonance quite early on – earlier on that a lot of other doods. But when it’s mixed in with his more conventional, danceable fare, it comes as a bit of a surprise. I like listening to the transition in his approach over just this short two year period. The second version of ‘The Greatest There Is’ has an earthier, more vernacular vocal, but it’s a bit less comfortable harmonically in parts. Even ‘Take the A Train’, a standard in the lindy hopper’s collection, is challenging. The piano intro is dissonant, the bass solo is long and complicated. It’s all fabulous music, but it’s not stuff I’d automatically play for a general lindy hopping crowd.
what again?! I’m still crapping on about dance, power, etc
I’m refining and developing these ideas. So I’m just going to keep writing and posting these same points. Over and over again.
One of the more interesting discussions I’ve read about derision dance (from Jacqui Malone’s book I think) discussed derision dance in African American dance as a way of responding to white power/black disempowerment ‘under the radar’. In other words, the cake walk (or whichever example you’re using) allowed dancers to deride or mock whites surrepticiously or indirectly. To ‘get the joke’ you had to recognise who was being mocked, and how the mocking was intended.
This sort of idea comes up in a number of different cultural practices across cultures. I’ve read a bit about satire and humour and derision-through-impersonating-for-humour’s-sake.
I’m reading this book at the moment:
(Seems Like Murder Here: Southern Violence and the blues Tradition by Adam Gussow.
Gussow is a a blues musician who’s interested in violence and the blues. One of his central arguments is that the blues (as in blues music – both sung and instrumental) gave black musicians access to a ‘blues subject’
who then found ways, more or less covert, of singing back to that ever-hovering threat. Although blues scholars have long claimed that blues singers remained self-protectively mute on the issue of white mob violence, lynching makes its presence felt in various ways throughout the blues tradition: not just as veiled references in blues lyrics and as jokes recounted by blues musicians…
Gussow discusses the fact that black responses to white violence (in southern America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries) were limited by necessity. In the simplest terms, if you fought back, if you responded to white violence, then white retaliation would come ten-fold. Without this ‘right of response’ (legal or otherwise), music offered a way of dealing, publicly with violence. Albert Murray talks about singing the blues as a way of ‘stomping’ the blues – of sharing woe and therefore easing its burdensome weight. The idea with singing a song that implies lynching or violence (ie you might simply sing ‘I have the blues, my body is broken’) is that you share your pain and frustration without directly inviting white censure. Singing and music allow you to sneakily respond, but without risking violent retribution.
Gussow begins his book with a comment from the book What is Life? Reclaiming the Black Blues Self by Kalamu ya Salaam:
[W]e laugh loud and heartily when every rational expectation suggests that we should be crying in despair. [T]he combination of exaggeration and conscious recognition of the brutal facts of life is the basis for the humour of blues people (Gussow x)
So in these cases making jokes when it seems impossible to laugh is an important part of subverting white power and violence. Simply being able to laugh is a way of saying “I am not beaten down”. The joke part is an extension of the sneakiness of singing about violence indirectly, of responding indirectly when direct responses could get you killed. Humour is of course utterly subversive and powerful in this sort of setting.
The sort of violence Gussow talks about in Seems Like Murder Here is a fairly extreme example (though I highly recommend the book – it’s disturbing but also fascinating), but it makes the point that humour through music can work as humour in dance does. By hiding your true meaning or intention under a layer of melody or rhythm, you can say subversive things, do subversive things and reclaim some control over your life and public discourse. You mightn’t be able to speak out, but you can sing out.
I’m particularly keen on the idea of multiple layers of meaning. The cake walk can function just as silly clowning. But (as every clown knows), the surface humour hides something deeper and more subversive. While at first glance the black clown appears as the butt of the joke to white audiences (of the day), to white dancers and observers, the butt of the joke lies elsewhere. Tommy deFrantz writes in Dancing Many Drums that, when faced with white forbidding of black religious dance,
serious dancing went underground, and dances which carried significant aesthetic information became disguised or hidden from public view. For white audiences, the black man’s dancing body came to carry only the information on its surface (DeFrantz, discussing black masculinity in dance 107).
I’ve also heard similar discussions from aboriginal Australian elders discussing religious dance. While some dances are strictly for women or men or older women or older men or not to be seen at all, under any circumstances by the uninitiated, the meaning of a sacred dance can be hidden in plain sight. The uninitiated, watching a sacred dance (or looking at a sacred image in a painting) doesn’t have access the important, sacred meaning, simply because they haven’t been initiated, and therefore don’t understand what they’re looking at. They look, but cannot see.
I think it’s important to say here, though, that having control over who looks at your body (dancing or otherwise) is a matter of power. I’ve been thinking about it in reference to film and how we give permission to have our own image photographed or filmed (and I repeatedly return to an article on the Warlpiri Media Collective’s siteabout managing access to sacred or even just private space in indigenous Australian communities). But discussions about, for example, women’s rights to control who looks at their bodies has just as long a history as white occupation of Australia. It is, after all, a similar discussion about occupation, colonialism and the power of the gaze.
I’ve read some interesting discussions about this in music in other places as well. There’s quite a bit of discussion about Louis Armstrong and his ‘mugging’ or ‘uncle tomming’ for white audiences. Krin Gabbard discusses Armstrong’s work with Duke Ellington, including the filming of Paris Blues (in which Armstrong starred, and for which Ellington contributed the score) and the recording of the ‘Summit’ sessions:
…at those moments in the film when he [Armstrong] seems most eager to please with his vocal performances, his mugging is sufficiently exaggerated to suggest an ulterior motive. Lester Bowie has suggested that Armstrong is essentially “slipping a little poison into the coffee†of those who think they are watching a harmless darkie….Throughout his career in films, Armstrong continued to subvert received notions of African American identity, signifying on the camera while creating a style of trumpet performance that was virile, erotic, dramatic, and playful. No other black entertainer of Armstrong’s generation — with the possible exception of Ellington — brought so much intensity and charisma to his performances. But because Armstrong did not change his masculine presentation after the 1920s, many of his gestures became obsolete and lost their revolutionary edge. For many black and white Americans in the 1950s and 1960s, he was an embarrassment. In the early days of the twenty-first century, when Armstrong is regularly cast as a heroicized figure in the increasingly heroicising narrative of jazz history, we should remember that he was regularly asked to play the buffoon when he appeared on films and television (Gabbard 298).
Gabbard continues the point here:
…Armstrong plays the trickster. Armstrong’s tricksterisms were an essential part of his performance persona. On one level, Armstrong’s grinning, mugging, and exaggerated body language made him a much more congenial presence, especially to racist audiences who might otherwise have found so confident a performer to be disturbing, to say the least. When Armstrong put his trumpet to his lips, however, he was all business. The servile gestures disappeared as he held his trumpet erect and flaunted his virtuosity, power, and imagination (Gabbard 298).
Again, there’s this idea of layers of meaning. On the one hand, Armstrong appears as the smiling, ‘safe’ black man, entertaining white audiences with clowning. But on the other, his sheer musical talent empowers him and defies his reduction to ‘harmless’ clown.
There’s quite a bit written about black masculinity and layers of meaning in musical and dance performances, but I’m especially interested in women in all this. Gussow has a fascinating paper about Mamie Smith’s song ‘Crazy Blues’ (which is in that book). And Angela Yuval Davis talks about lyrics and women’s blues performances and power.
Ultimately, though, the idea of layers of meaning is important to a discussion of African American dance. Any one dance can yield a whole host of meanings or interpretations. And at times it’s important to hide the most subversive or dangerous meanings way down inside, where you need a lived experience with violence and disempowerment to really understand or to ‘get’ the joke.
Here’s my current absolute favourite example of layers of meaning in dance. This is a scene from a musical stage play version of the book The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Most of us are more familiar with the film version (with its wondeful music) and with Oprah’s interest in the story/film.
link
On one level it’s very much ‘classical’ musical stage play fare – ‘singing’, dancing, ‘period’ costumes (late 19th, early 20th century), young black men with phenomenal dancing ability performing a ‘light hearted’ song about ‘love’. That’s the straight reading (well, almost straight). It looks quite a bit like some of the clips we watch for lindy hop or jazz dance dance from the 30s and 40s. Almost.
But it takes on a different meaning when you’ve seen this.
Immediately, another layer of meaning can be found in that first clip. Men dancing a ‘woman’s’ song. Add the fact that this is a contemporary stage play, not a piece from the 30s or 40s. The lyrics, the movements of the dancers all gain new levels of meaning. The reading is ‘queered up’, not only in terms of sexuality (gay? straight? tranny? wuh?), but in terms of power and gaze. The Color Purple is a story about gender and power and race and ethnicity and class. It’s themes and story are heartbreaking in parts. And yet here are three gorgeous young blokes performing a dance which invites a smile or a laugh. It’s ‘queer’ in that it’s played ‘straight’. The dancers are dancing ‘seriously’, but the entire performance seems unusual, something is happening here, below the surface. Actually, not below the surface. It’s right there, in your face. Making you want to dance. This sort of performance is often talked about in critical literature as provoking a sense of unease in the audience – should I laugh? Or is that wrong, considering the story of The Color Purple? This unease or anxiety centres on issues of sexuality, gender, class, ethnicity, etc etc etc. In some ways, this is what makes the performance so powerful. You can enjoy it simply as badass dancing. But you can also left wondering what it means. And context is everything. Watching from an expensive seat in a huge concert theatre is a little different from watching from the audience with different vested interests:
Link.
I like the second version because it’s not a quiet audience, sitting and listening quietly and politely. It’s a loud, rowdy audience interacting with the dancers. It’s ok to laugh, to cheer, to want to dance with them, to enjoy the show. The audience are part of the performance. The ‘mistake’ where one dancer drops his hat becomes a chance to demonstrate their ability to improvise, to work it for a crowd. Three men dancing the overtly sexualised, feminised steps from Beyonce’s clip changes the meaning of the movements. It changes the way their bodies are sexualised or regarded as sexualised bodies. It’s ‘feminine’ movement, but this is definitely a performance of masculinity and masculine sexuality. Just not a terribly straight or mainstream one. And when the women appear on stage, all this gets tipped over again.
Is it derision, though? I think it’s more complicated. But it makes a point that we can apply to cake walk. On one hand, it can be read as ‘straight’, fabulous dancing. But it can also be read as clowning or buffooning. Or it can be read as queer-as-fuck politics. Or sexed-up awesomeness. Or race politics. Or mocking Beyonce. Or celebrating Beyonce. It’s imitation and flattery and derision and commentary. It’s complicatedness invites us to engage and to look for layers of meaning. Which of course is the point: one dance becomes a discourse, a discussion, rather than a monologue.
Davis, Angela Y. Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday. Toronto: Random House, 1998.
DeFrantz, Thomas. “The Black Male Body in Concert Dance.” Moving Words: Re-Writing Dance. Ed. Gay Morris. London and New York: Routledge, 1996. 107 –
20.
Gabbard, Krin. “Paris Blues: Ellington, Armstrong, and Saying It with Musicâ€. Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O’Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 297-311.
Malone, Jacqui. Steppin’ on the Blues: The Visible Rhythms of African American Dance. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1996.
Murray, Albert. Stomping the Blues. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1976.
Hinkson, Melinda. “The Circus comes to Yuendumu, Again,” reproduced from Arena Magazine no. 25, October-November, 1996, pps 36-39.
things i have done regularly lately
Cooked a large piece of meat in milk for a long period of time. Pork, chicken, whatever. I’ll cook it, you can eat it.
While searching blindly in my backpack, felt something soft and hanky-like, pulled it out and discovered it was a single maxi-sized pad*. This has happened: at the bi-lo checkout with a middle aged woman cashier, trying to pay for bread with a cocky indie boy salesman, rummaging for cables at the DJ booth while sitting next to a very-christian tech-dood (this happened twice in one weekend with two different christians), looking for a hanky, desperately, while trying to obscure a post-sneeze-excitement nose. The one time I actually _needed_ a maxi (as in badASS absorbency) pad I couldn’t find the fucker.
Played more than one song from The Spoon Concert album while DJing for a bunch of spazzed out lindy hoppers. It’s like a sickness. Not the lindy hop – my playing stuff from this album. I just can’t help it. I need to get some sort of clue.
Wandered why mormons bother with plural marriage** where the arrangement is one man + many women. While I know that many women is a fully sick option when you’re looking at running a conference or a university degree or planning a lindy exchange, I’d have thought the ideal solution is one woman + many men within a marriage. Because I sure as fuck know The Squeeze is run a little ragged riding back and forth between the couch and DVD shop and could do with a sub some time soon.
Thought I might like to re-watch Aliens, mostly for Bill Paxton.***
I like imagining him ranting “Game over, man, game over!” when the Law discovers he’s a polygamist.
Wandered why I didn’t believe people when they told me Veronica Mars was good. I used to enjoy that bit in Deadwood when Kristen Bell was eaten by Woo’s pigs. Now I can’t believe I wasn’t into this shit.
Wished we had broadcast TV. But only when people are tweeting like motherfuckers about freakin’ Masterchef. Whatever _that_ is.
*as in PERIODS.
**this is what happens when you re-watch Big Love.
*** Big Love, again.