I got a random email from a guy called Andrew Rozario, who’s part of the Nashville Swing Dance Foundation. They asked me (very nicely) if I (and my fellow bloggers) would pimp their youtube channel or videos or venue or something. I figure, what the fuck, I’m feeling magnanimous. Why not. You can watch a video of their studio’s opening here.
I was a bit distracted, so I didn’t really realise what that video was about. At first I thought the girl in the video said they were from the ‘National Swing Dance Foundation’, and that this was the Foundation’s new venue. I thought that was kind of interesting, because I love the hooha that goes along with national lindy hop and swing dance associations, competitions, whatever. That shit always gets dramatic. But, unfortunately, this just sounds like some kids founding a studio centred on lindy hop (and her sisters). Which is disappointingly sensible and fun.
But I know nothing about Nashville lindy hop. They could totally be about instituting national guidelines for lindy hop. Let’s wait and see, yes? Yes.
(photo of Trev and I ‘DJing’ at MLX8 by scott_aus)
This post is the second of two. In the first part (NEEDS MOAR DJS ? (part 1)) I rambled on about Sydney’s DJing culture at the moment, particularly in reference to its social dancing culture and basic demographics. This second part spends a bit of time talking about why DJing sucks and why I like DJing. At some point in the future I’ll try to write about how we might (despite all our better instincts) go about encouraging new DJs in the swing dance scene.
I’m going to carry on with the (increasingly ridiculous) point that we need more DJs here in Sydney. Because as things are going, we’re in pretty dire straits: NEED MOAR DJS!!1!!
How do we get these moar DJs?
One of the most frustrating suggestions I’ve heard lately is that we should “just put out an ad for more DJs”. Gee, why hadn’t I thought of that. As though there are squads of skilled DJs sitting about at home who hadn’t thought about DJing. Or rather, the implication is that any old fool with some music can DJ.
*headdesk* repeatedly
Here is where things get tricky. Yes, any old fool with an ipod or a laptop can just plug into a sound system and play some music. But this is what will happen 99% of the time:
They won’t play ‘swing music’. They’ll play songs that they luuurve and can’t believe no one ever plays. Because no one has every played that fucking Wham Jitterbug song, or Richard Cheese. They’ll play one fucked up song after another, and everyone will get shitty/bored and get drunk/go home.
They will play ‘swing music’, but they’ll be using shitty, shitty pirated mp3s that sound HORRIBLE and are unlistenable. So an experienced DJ/person will have to step in to help them fix the sound.
They will play ‘swing music’, but it will all be under 100bpm or above 200bpm, all from one small musical style, and all very samey. This’ll be fine for that person and their three friends, but everyone else will get shitty/bored and get drunk/go home.
The best case scenario in these moments is that the dancers will be ok with one of these DJs pulling this rubbish, so long as there’s a second DJ who’ll play ‘real’ swing music. Either way, you’re going to need a second DJ or some sort of technology-savvy person working with the new ‘DJs’ to help them actually make sound come out of the metal box.
And of course, we haven’t even begun to approach a DJ who has a) decent music, and b) knows how to combine it, and c) work the room so that people have a chance to breathe/get their groove on.
Who’d have thought. DJing actually requires some skills and knowledge.
So, yeah, just putting out an ad won’t turn up any surprise DJ gems. It might get you one or two people who have an interest. But what you’ll probably get is a bunch of guys with inflated egos who think DJing is ‘easy’. You might get one or two women, but they won’t have as much confidence as the guys. What will probably happen is that the few people who are actually interested in DJing swing music for swing dancers will pay attention to how things turn out, and then they’ll be disappointed and put off by the reality and the fallout of that reality.
As with building a swing dance scene generally, new DJs are more the result of long term plans and strategies than surprise discoveries.
This ‘just put in an ad for DJs’ approach is a clear indication of the value of social dancing and of music – low. This makes sense if your financial bread and butter is classes, and social dancing an optional extra. It’s also the antithesis of how I approach dancing. I see classes as a place for me to develop skills which make my social dancing better/easier/more fun/more creative. If your business relies on class attendance (rather than social dance attendance), it’s important to develop an institutional discourse which values pedagogy – learning and teaching – above all else, and which also articulates clear hierarchies of knowledge. Most importantly, learning is positioned as something which happens in classes, knowledge is bought and paid for, then passed from teachers to students like a little package.
What this really makes clear, I guess, is the way Sydney (and Melbourne, at least until about 2008) relies on dance schools to put on social dancing events. I don’t know if this happens in other scenes. But dance classes are the centre of the community, rather than the ground crew or entry point for a vibrant social dancing scene. I’m not sure why. Maybe we just seem to assume that running classes makes better business sense than running regular social dances? I mean, we only have three annual events, nationally (of a total of twelve or thirteen), which are all social dancing, with no workshops: Canberrang (Canberra), Devil City Swing (Tasmania) and MLX. MLX is the best-attended, largest of those events, and began as a workshop weekend. I often wonder if our national obsession with workshops has something to do with Australia’s small and geographically dispersed population. Or if it’s a result of our distance from the rest of the lindy hopping world. Historically, traveling to dance in Australia has been centred on workshops and learning rather than social dancing.
…but look, I’ve wandered off-topic again. It is relevant, because it explains why I think music and social dancing are so important to a contemporary lindy hop culture. It’s not just because I love social dancing above all else, or because I am a DJ, with much to gain from a community valuing my skills. I do think that a modern lindy hop scene cannot be truly socially and creatively sustainable if it does not include social dancing. Because social dancing is really challenging. And it’s also the place where dancing stops being a series of monologues and becomes an exciting, challenging discourse. It’s called social dancing for a reason. But let’s get back to talking about DJing.
There are other ways of encouraging new DJs.
I’ve written quite a few posts about getting into DJing:
NONE OF THIS IS ENCOURAGING. These are not helpful posts. tl;dr Too depressing. Too much thinking!
I need to write a post talking about how to encourage people to take up DJing. I really do. But this is not that post.
(photo of Tomo by Swifty, an American photographer, DJ and dancer in NY).
Basically, becoming a good DJ requires a lot of time. Yeah, some money. But the time is the biggest investment. Time to learn music. To learn how to use technology. To spend actually DJing and moving from sucking to being half decent and then, finally, good. You can be competent within a year, but it takes at least a couple of years to get good. Just like lindy hop, DJing for lindy hop is a long term project. Time spent sitting on your arse DJing instead of dancing. That always surprises new DJs: you don’t get to dance to the music you love that you’re playing? No, buddy, you don’t. Because there are very few people who have the ninja skills to pull off a good set while dancing to it. And 90% of the guys (and they are blokes) who dance while DJing aren’t anywhere near as good as they think they are. No, buddy, you’re not.
And if you’re just in the scene to have fun and dance, why on earth would you waste your time learning to DJing, and then actually DJing? Particularly when there’s an awesome band on every free night you have during the week?
So you get these people to start DJing. Why would they bother to stick with it? The hours are shitty. You aren’t treated with a whole heap of respect – there’s no line of groupies waiting for you after a set. There’s next to no money in it. Unless that money is the money you sink into your gear and music. You’re far more likely to get abused by some blockhead venue owner or manager than thanked. You’ll constantly deal with idiots suggesting amazing songs no one ever plays. By Wham. Most of the sets you do will be small time local sets for mixed range of dancers who’d really rather talk and flirt than dance. Unless you’re in a big scene with a core set of hardcore dancers. That means Melbourne, in Australia – we just don’t have that significant core group anywhere else, not in decent numbers. Even in Melbourne, though, most of your sets would be for smaller crowds. Because the smaller sets are the bread and butter of a swing dance scene.
Golly, with all that bad news, why does anyone DJ at all? Why do I DJ?
I love the music. The music brought me to dancing in the first place. And that’s why I stay. And that’s also why I get up and leave when some fucker plays Richard Cheese or that fucking Wham song. AGAIN. I love the music. It inspires my dancing. I go to dance classes so I can dance better(er) and do a better(er) job of making what I hear visible. I learn about dance history so I can understand what people danced to the music I love.
I’m a stooge. Yep. Some stooge has to make the music. So I’ll do it. I started DJing because I was sick and tired of the bullshit music I used to hear out social dancing in Melbourne circa 2004. If someone else was DJing every week, DJing the good stuff, I’d never have gotten into it. Perhaps. So, yes, I was that annoying new DJ playing ‘songs no one ever plays’. It’s just that everyone else was playing Wham, and I wanted to play some Lionel Hampton.
I like learning new things. I have a curious brain. And DJing is interesting. That’s one of the reasons I stick with it. The fundamentals of DJing are pretty simple: play music. But the practicalities are endlessly challenging: keep them dancing. Make them have fun. Make them crazy with pleasure. How do you do that, consistently? Their tastes and dance skills keep changing, so the DJing has to change too. There are no constants! Curious brain, inquires.
Collegiality keeps me with it. I do like to talk. And write. And DJing gives me something interesting to talk and think and write about. Not just on my own – with other people! I think my DJing makes me better at organising other DJs, so I also do it so I have some sort of empathy with their requirements.
The history of the music is interesting. Not the boring ‘jazz started in New Orleans’ rubbish. But the interesting stuff – such and such was in Person X’s band, but also in Y’s band, and both bands recorded the same song in the same year. And both bands were on different record labels. And the labels decided who got to decide what songs. And those labels affected which bands played which venues. And those venues were segregated/weren’t segregated. And that affected who danced to those bands live.
DJing feeds in nicely to my media studies/cultural studies background. I did a chapter of my PhD on DJing cultures, and I’m still interested in DJing as a case study/testing ground for various critical theories. I especially like the way DJing and dancing require participation, and I like the way that gives my research and writing mo cred.
It makes me feel proud and happy when people enjoy the music I play. I feel a sense of pride when I can make a crowd crazy. But I feel especially happy when someone tells me they like what I’ve done. Because I’m a hooman being, and I like the approval of my peers. I like feeling good about myself. And I like to facilitate other people’s fun. The hardest thing in the world is watching my friends dance like fools having crazy fun while I’m DJing. Without me. But then, one of the nicest things in the world is to see people I know – people I love! – having masses of fun to my music. I mean, what could be better than watching my partner dancing like an uninhibited adrenaline junky idiot to a song I chose because I knew he’d love it? Best exchange of presents ever.
Not many women were DJing when I began. It shat me to hear and see men being all holier than thou about DJing. Fuck, if they can do it, there’s no reason I can’t.
The hunting instinct. There’s something very satisfying about hunting down the perfect song, then dumping it into a set at just the right time and having people come running up to say “What was that SONG?” Yep, that’s a good feeling. But there’s something even more satisfying about going complete on an artist. On hunting down everything they recorded, and just having it. Because I’m a bit obcon, but also because… well, that’s the reason. Completists aren’t really 100% normal, are they? It’s also quite exciting to find a new artist or song or band and then testing it out on dancers. Is it as good as you expected it to be? Why not? I like that.
DJing is a good thing to do when you’re injured. I didn’t find my DJing improved while I was off dancing with an injury, but it gave me something to do at dances.
It’s creative. There really is something creatively challenging and satisfying about putting together songs in just the right way. Sure, you’re not mixing or making the music yourself. But no one else has played just this combination of songs at just this moment for just this crowd before, nor will they ever again. That’s a moment of creativity. And it’s exciting. When I’m really in the DJing groove, I feel as though I’m out there dancing every single song. I feel far more connected to the dancers than I ever do when I’m out there with them on the dance floor. I can see them all responding to each other and to the music. I can feel my own body responding – my heart rate elevating or dropping, my skin flushing, my pores sweating. I can feel the beat in my body, and the emotions of the music in my own… heart? And I use those feelings to make decisions about the next song I play. That feeling is really, really addictive. I think that’s what makes dancing so addictive. You get totally lost in the music, and nothing else exists. Plus: adrenaline, endorphins, physical contact. It’s all majorly addictive. And then revisiting those sets afterwards, figuring out why things worked or didn’t helps revisit those feelings. Contact high, yo.
So, really, there are lots of reasons to take up DJing. But how do you articulate all those things in the two minutes you have to talk to a dancer who may be interested in taking up DJing? Should you? It’s all very hippy and amorphous. And a little sweary.
I will try to write another post about how to get people interested in taking up DJing.
NB: There’s a nice, simple post about working conditions for DJs over at Words Pursued called Gotta Be Satisfied. This link came to me via a few people – Ryan Swift and (caution – FB link) Wandering and Pondering (also found at Wandering and Pondering.)
There’s the beginning of a discussion about related issues over at Swing DJs in the DJ Administration thread I started, but I don’t see that going anywhere.
As with most politically sensitive issues, most of the interesting talk will no doubt happen under the radar – on twitter, in emails, in private messages and face to face chats. I know I’m involved in about half a dozen conversations with people about these same issues. I tell you what, I’ve never been as aware of the role of unions as I am while talking about DJs. I’d never say it out loud (oops), but you can see how unionising – getting together as an organised group – is really in the interests of workers and bosses. The workers get more equitable working conditions and pay, the bosses get more consistent and reliable work from their employees. But shoosh. We won’t have any of that goddamn commie bastard talk here.
[EDIT: This is one of a number of loosely-associated posts about music in Sydney lindy hop today. This list includes:
In this post I ramble on about Sydney’s DJing culture at the moment, particularly in reference to its social dancing culture and basic demographics. It began as a huge post, but has split into two. The second one (NEEDS MOAR DJS ? (part 2)) spends a bit of time talking about why DJing sucks and why I like DJing. At some point in the future I’ll try to write about how we might (despite all our better instincts) go about encouraging new DJs in the swing dance scene. I’ll begin this discussion with a blanket statement: Sydney’s swing dancers like live music. I’ve written quite a bit about it in this post ‘Swing Dancing’ and Lindy Hop in Sydney: an Exercise in Speculative Fiction. But we also quite like DJed social dancing nights as well.
I think there’s a link between a scene’s age and its use of DJs. New scenes rely on bands for social dancing, and only use DJs to fill in after class or in informal contexts. Yes? Hm. That seems a long bow to draw. But let’s leave it for now, and move on to another spurious declaration. Older scenes develop fairly complicated and professionalised DJing cultures and DJs. They also produce better DJs, usually people who’ve been dancing for a while, but not always. In recent moments, though, some of the older scenes in America have returned to live music in a big way (Seattle), and scenes in cities like New York and New Orleans are seeing increasing attention to their live music cultures from local and visiting dancers. In these scenes DJing has taken a more supportive (though still essential) role. Sydney dancers traveling overseas to scenes like these are bringing this idea back to our city: live music is good. Their online discussion and interaction with dancers from those overseas scenes reinforces the radical ideas traveling dancers bring home to Sydney. The idea that ‘live music is good’ (and ‘cool’) is also circulating in other Australian scenes, and reinforced when Australian dancers meet up at events or talk online.
For an awful lot of dancers, the idea of what they should like (as propagated by teachers, influential individuals (teachers, etc), the programs of high profile events, etc) is more important than what they might actually like. For example, most people find themselves, mid-dance liking dancing to LCJO’s ‘C Jam Blues’. But most dancers who’ve been around for a while don’t like the idea of dancing to it. Because it’s too overplayed/slow/bigband/whatevs. This fascinates the part of my brain that likes to think about taste and cultures of taste and the influence of various digital media. It can really frustrate the other part of my brain that likes to DJ stuff I like, which doesn’t always coincide with popular trends (enough goddamn tuba-shouting-banjo for Ceiling Cat’s sake! For pity’s sake, give me a little classic big band swing for my lindy hop!) But, for the most part, it’s difficult to argue with this fad. Live music: it is good. It really is.
So there’s something of a tension between DJed and live music social dancing in Sydney. They often attract different crowds and are managed by different ideological, financial and political forces.
Let’s talk numbers.
Sydney lindy hop demographics. There are about 4.5 million people living in Sydney (and about 4 million in Melbourne). Sydney is the largest city in Australia, though not the fastest growing. DJing isn’t one of the largest pools of labour in the Sydney lindy hop community – there are only about thirteen of us. There are about fourteen teachers working regularly and occasionally with the two larger inner city schools, and many teachers are also DJs. There are a bunch of other teachers with the other schools in the outer suburbs, but I don’t know them at all really (I’d put them, conservatively, at about ten teachers). Unpaid volunteers number anywhere between fifty and one hundred across the two larger schools (this is a difficult one to quantify). I have no idea how many people take swing dance classes in Sydney. Sydney has hosted two or three larger annual events in the past (dropping to one this year) and a number of smaller workshop weekends. There is a great deal of cross-pollination with the Canberra scene, which is only a three hour drive away. No other Australian scenes are so close together – most are at least eight hours drive apart (I am blurring Geelong into the outer suburbs of Melbourne).
Sydney has lots of social dancing. Because we have lots of DJed social nights. We have three regular dancer-run DJed events: Swingpit, Roxbury, Jump Jive n Wail. JJW is mostly rock n roll, jump blues and neo swing, and it’s a gig managed by one professional DJing couple. It’s a majorly popular cross-over point between the rock n roll, rockabilly,’swing’ and lindy hop scenes. Roxbury and Swingpit are run by two different dance schoosl and are on fortnightly, on alternating weekends. Swingpit uses four DJs per month, Roxbury between four and six per month. They tend to draw on different DJing pools. Then there’s the new and irregular North Sydney after-class social dancing, which has one or two sets per month, give or take. DJs are also used for other occasional social dances – the (irregular) late night Speakeasy, band breaks for live music gigs run by dancers, and larger social dances run every now and then.
(Me, Ben and Kat, DJs for the SP performance ball this year. Not the most thrilling DJing gig; we may have been distracted by our own fun.)
Sydney’s complicated cultural architecture leaves us in a fairly tricky position when it comes to running DJed social dancing nights. Basically, we don’t have enough DJs to fill all our DJed social dancing spots. Our current venues use between ten and twelve DJ sets per month. That’s at least two sets per week. Of the ~thirteen DJs in our town, five DJ regularly and have solid skills. Only three of those DJ interstate, and only two or three would I hire for a big interstate event. We also have five DJs who DJ irregularly, but who would really rather dance. Two of the thirteen very rarely DJ any more (and haven’t in literally years). We have one or two or perhaps three or four who are really green. And then there are assorted blues DJs who don’t get to DJ anywhere any more at the moment, as our blues scene has pretty much collapsed.
When you look at the number of sets to be filled, those thirteen DJs don’t go too far. Some (like me) will do quite a few sets, but cap at about three per month. Most would rather DJ no more than once a month. Some are on complete hiatus.
At this point I simply can’t get enough DJs to fill the slots at Swingpit alone. This is partly because it’s November, and November is a busy month. Sure, people go nuts in December with parties and stuff, but in November people are really working their guts out at work. And Sydney can be an expensive town, requiring jobs that can be quite demanding. We’re also at the tail end of exchange season in Australia – there are about six large events in October and November, plus a round of christmas dances and festivals. So most of the DJs (and teachers and dancers) are kind of tired and burnt out. They just can’t manage DJing on top of everything else.
So we have lots of healthy social dancing nights, quite a lot of keen social dancers, but not enough DJs to do the DJed gigs. The obvious solution would be to put on bands instead of DJs. Bands pull numbers, and Sydney is busy proving there’s a clear market for live music events catering to dancers. So why don’t we just swap bands for DJs?
There are some financial issues at work. Neither Swingpit nor Roxbury could afford to put on a live band every fortnight. Both events are run on quite a tight budget, in part because they only charge $6 and $5 respectively for social dancing entry. That’s nothing. It’s hard to find a decent lunch for $5 these days, let alone a good night of fun dancing. An obvious solution would be to charge more for the social dancing nights, and to put on a band with the extra money. Two years ago I think you’d have had an outraged chorus of tightarsedness from dancers. But these days we pay anywhere from $10 to $40 for live music at venues with good dance floors.
Despite these brilliant(ly unthought out) arguments, there are a range of factors affecting the finances of these events which need to be taken into account. And even I know not to discuss these sorts of things in detail in public. :D
A shift to live music at our regular, dancer-run core social dancing events would mean a larger shift in the way social dancing events are run. Coordinating a band involves different skills and contacts than coordinating DJs. Bands need proper pay, and DJs are largely regarded as ‘hobbyists’ or volunteer labour. DJs are usually dancers and (preferably) know how dancers use music. Bands know music, but aren’t (in Sydney anyway) serious dancers, so they don’t know how dancers use music. More importantly, one gig for dancers a fortnight is not the most important thing in a band’s working life. They have other, more lucrative (corporate) gigs in their schedule. I think, however, the biggest and most difficult challenge in shifting from DJs to bands would involve prioritising music and social dancing, which organisations who make their money from teaching are not willing to do.
What if we did drop DJs completely and use bands instead? I’m not sure how things would go. I don’t think class-centred institutions like dance ‘schools’ could accommodate such hardcore ideological shifts. That’s a whole different way of thinking about dance and about profitable dance projects. An entire reshuffling of the social hierarchies and (commodified) knowledge values of a community. I think the modern Sydney lindy hop scene needs DJs, if only because it means that it doesn’t then need to reassess the value it gives music, and the knowledge and financial economy of the scene as a whole. Such a major change would involve a lot of ground-level effort, which Sydney isn’t really built for. Not at the moment. But even with an increased emphasis on live music for dancer-run events, there’d still be a place for DJed social dancing, if only on a smaller scale.
Let’s pause for a moment, and think about me.
What would I like? In a perfect world there’d be social dancing every week. Twice a week. At least. By social dancing, I mean spaces and events that are perfect for dancing. A decent floor that’s not covered in drunks and broken glass. They could be with live bands. That’d be cool. But I’d be ok with a really good DJed event as as well. So long as they were really good DJs. To be honest, in my perfect world, we’d have a DJed dance once a month that featured only really top notch DJing, was held in a dance-centred space (like a not-too-big dance studio) with an excellent, appropriate sound system, with a bar next door or attached or something so we could get drinks or noms. But the dancing would be the most important activity. And by good DJing, I mean mad crowd working skills and excellent solid swinging jazz. No neo. No rock n roll. No fucking novelty songs. Just 1920s-1950s classic swing and modern recreationist bands. Combined cleverely by a DJ who’s watching the floor. Four hours of that once a month, and I’d be happy. I’d complement that with lots of dancing to live bands each week. Unity Hall on Sundays. A Friday night band in a fun venue like the Camelot Lounge. Saturdays at different one-off events with different bands. A different band (or two) each week.
I’d be quite happy retiring some of our DJed social dancing sets. My DJ skills would slide a bit, but I do DJ interstate quite a bit, so I’m not really all that sad about it. And, by gum, I’d much prefer dancing to DJing myself! Right, now I’ve almost convinced myself that crying “DJ drought” is really my missing the point. Perhaps it might be more useful to rethink a (short sighted, isolationist) DJ-centred approach to social swing dancing culture. It seems a better idea to integrate live music more thoroughly into our everyday dance activities, to reduce our DJed dancer-run events and present entirely new types of dancer-run DJed events.
So, really, is it so sad to lose DJed social dancing? Hmmmm…..
I’m going to continue this discussion in another post, as this one is way too big already. The second part (NEEDS MOAR DJS ? (part 2)) will talk about the frustrating parts of DJing and this ‘DJ drought’.
[EDIT: This is one of a number of loosely-associated posts about music in Sydney lindy hop today. This list includes:
That about sums it up. Aren’t too many people who don’t google Skye videos. 90% of those discussions about competitions involve people trying to set aside their Love Of Skye so they can assess the dancing they’re watching. 99% of people have given up trying to set aside their Hero Worship Of Frida.
That was all running through my brain, and then I saw this cute post about heroes on Rantings of a Lindy Hopper.
I don’t have time/brain to make this a proper story right now, but there are some interesting bits and pieces about judging dance comps floating about at the moment:
Bug’s Question of the Day (on FB), Friday 11 Nov 2011 9:38am:
As a judge, if you knew a dancer had a long standing condition that prevented him/her from making nice lines, or having proper posture, would you consider that during a prelim or final? Some examples of long standing condition might be bow-leggedness, back problems, etc
(with only 9 comments)
The September edition of the Yehoodi talkshow (September 18, 2011) features an interesting discussion about the 2011 ILHC competition and the “top 5 lindy hop showcases of all time”. Here, one of the key points seems to be how judges (or audiences) assess competitors’ performances in reference to their previous work. In other words, how or should you judge competitors you know are brilliant dancers but aren’t bringing their A-game in this moment? There seems to be a tension between ‘dance skills’ (eg straight up technique, fitness, understanding and use of musical structures, lines, etc etc) and ‘performance skills’ (eg a clever, crowd-pleasing choreography, mugging (or not) for the audience, etc). A general idea raised here (and elsewhere) was that dancers who put in lots of time and work on a routine were more deserving of a win than dances who just threw it together at the last minute. My thought was a lot like Manu’s, but I’ll be blunter: quit your bitching and bring your shit. If you don’t have it, practicing for weeks will bring you closer, but you’ll still get pwnd. It’s a competition; it’s not designed to be fair and equitable.
There’s an interesting post over at Wandering and Pondering about ILHC 2011: Frida & Skye Déjà Vu (31 August 2011). This raises some of the key contentions taken up elsewhere: that Skye and Frida don’t actually prepare their routines. The implication in other places is that this somehow makes them less deserving of competition wins. I say: there are different ways of preparing for a competition. If you’re as fully sick as Frida and Skye, you’ve spent your whole lives preparing, and you’re never not preparing. Your competition is an extension of your social dancing. Your ‘routine’ is a series of moves and ideas you’ve been working on for a while, but strung together to suit a song you know very well. In this scenario, you don’t micromanage everything from costumes to facial expressions. You just get your mad skillz and bring your hot shit.
[And that’s why you PWN ALL]
This of course takes us to the heart of the matter: different dancers value different things in a competition dance.
This Wandering and Pondering post Back in the Day (10 October 2011) lists a whole heap of routines Jerry loves. This gives you an idea of his ‘dance values’ and the stuff he likes to see in a competition.
There’s a longish discussion about Camp Jitterbug 2010 over and Wandering and Pondering, mostly in the comments of the Camp Jitterbug 2010 Roundup post (1 July 2010) which was picked up at Follower Variations, and led to a talk about how to talk about dance critically (as in actively engaging with a dance rather than just dissing or lurving it). I have to note here that my comment about Frida and Skye linked here was misread. I was being quite sarcastic: I thought Frida and Skye’s 2009 ILHC routine was quite amazing. The thing I liked most about it was that they went with a slower song at a time when everyone else was going CRAZY FAST. I really liked that they took a slower song and showed that they can dance orsm at any tempo. You can’t hide your fuck ups in a slow song. I think this might have led to the mixed responses to this routine at the time – peeps were digging on the faster music with the higher energy and this 1943 Roy Eldridge song ‘Jump Through The Window’ felt slower. It’s also a 40s song when most peeps were still trailing along behind Naomi and Todd and the rest of the Silver Shadows who were bringing the hot, fast action in 2005.
I think this last little chunk of linky lays out the way musical and performance tastes and trends change over time. I think 2005 was a turning point for lindy hop competition in that we saw hot, fast, early (as in late 20s, very early 30s), often small group music replace slower, bigger, later recordings. The Silver Shadows pwnd all. And ULHS set the balls-to-the-wall agenda which has really dominated lindy hop since. Not to mention stripping the weight off every competing lindy hopper in the world. But Jerry does a much more thorough job of outlining these changes in his Back in the Day post than I can.
I want to say, though, that this is a story of American lindy hop competition culture, and the Australian story is very different. Mostly, we’re lagging a few years behind the US, and we still haven’t reached the highest international standards when it comes to dance quality in competitions. Australian competition dance as a whole isn’t really representative of the Australian lindy hop dance trends and quality any way – there are plenty of very good Australian dancers who don’t compete at all. But enough! More links!
Finally, Bobby has written three posts on judging dance competitions. He is the king of clear, simple language, so he’s worth reading just for that refreshing break from too-long sentences and cluttered adjectives. :D The first post On Judging (Introduction): A Few Questions was written on the 28th September 2010, the second On Judging, Part 1: The Basic Competition Blueprint was written on the 18th January 2011, and the third On Judging, Part 2: Watching and Note-Taking Technique was written on the 10th November 2011. Again, it’s interesting to see how people develop these ideas over longer periods of time.
This post is sweet for its discussion of the nitty gritty of judging, stuff I know nothing about, because I don’t compete (though I’m happy to speculate). I think the thing we can all take away from those posts is: Sylvia Sykes, queen of ALL.
That’s about all I’ve got to say about competitions and ‘dance values’ in competitions right now, so I’m going to end with some unrelated dancespam. Sylvia Sykes, pwning all:
I was going to finish off with a brilliant clip of Sylvia and Manu competing in a jack and jill together because it clearly demonstrates dancers’ respect for Sylvia and Manu’s general awesomesauce, but the user had taken it down. Boo!
[EDIT: Doh. I forgot add some links about ILHC 2011 from Jo’s blog. I like her posts because they give you an insight into her thinking about her own competition dancing (well, that’s the first reading; it could all be a clever PR plan :D ): Highlights from ILHC, ILHC 2011 – solo charleston, ILHC 2011 – strictly lindy, advanced and open and ILHC 2011 – classic division. Do also look for her posts on the inaugural European Swing Dance Championships.]
I’m really interested in the discussion of official versus community policing of public space in Chris Brown’s article ‘The Occupy Movement and the Battle for Public Space’. One point I took from this was Brown’s juxtaposition of the formal, highly ordered occupation of public space by the police and ‘official’ entities with the informal, collaborative and negotiated management of public space by community groups. I think that both types of management of public space happen in all sorts of communities, and that they’re really just two points on a broad spectrum of behaviours. I want to spend the rest of this post taking this idea and applying it to dance competitions. Competitions which can be at once ‘officially’ managed public spaces and also collaborative or informally managed public spaces. At the same time!
I’ve always been interested in the way dancers regulate the social dance floor (which I’ve always thought of as ‘public space’ or public discourse). One of my favourite topics is derision dance. Or using dance to deride someone (using the dictionary definition “contemptuous ridicule or mockery”). This can be as simple as directing a crude gesture to your opponent, but it is often more complex, involving layers of imitation, impersonation and subtler mockery. This last type is what really fascinates me. I wrote about derision dance and layers of meaning in what again?! I’m still crapping on about dance, power, etc; I used derision as a tool for understanding blackface in blackfaces and performing identity. again. (again using the idea of layers); and I talked about cake walk as an example of derision in hot and cool.
I keep coming back to the idea of dance as a forum or tool for deriding or subverting authority or an opponent because it’s a contribution to public discourse which doesn’t use words. I get a bit frustrated with work on public discourse which prioritises the written word, as there are all sorts of dodgyarse power dynamics happening there. Not all of us have literacy and linguistic competency on our side; class and race and ethnicity are pretty important factors here.
Of course, I’m not alone in talking about bodies in public space. That’s why I like that Chris Brown article. It describes the way non-verbal occupation of public space is regulated by official and community powers. When I think about dancers regulating the public space of the dance floor, I think about official ‘laws’ or guidelines like a sign forbidding aerials in a particular room for safety or heritage-building reasons. Or a more experienced or authoritative dancer telling an idiot lead to stop tossing follows into the air. But I’m also quite interested in the unspoken, unofficial and less overt management of public space in dance communities. It’s a little too far along the spectrum to ‘official’ to really illustrate my thoughts, but I want to begin with (and probably end with – as I’m off to the beach in a tick) dance competitions.
There are all sorts of cool things to say about the way the studio uses Youtube and faceplant, where I found the clip, and which is so central to the studio’s promotional and community development work. But I’m not going to do that here. I want to start with the dancing itself.
… suddenly, I’m realising that this might be beyond me right this second. I want to do a close textual analysis of what is happening on the dance floor. There’s lots to be said about the mise en scene of the film itself as well. I think this type of close analysis of the dance-as-public-text requires a certain about of specialised knowledge. If you can’t read bodies as a dancer, you can’t really understand the power plays. More specifically, if you can’t read popping, you can’t really understand who’s the more proficient dancer, the intertextual and historic references in each movement, the etiquette for this sort of battle type competition. To add a few extra layers of meaning, this is a battle hosted by one particular dance studio, so you’ll see institution-specific action and ideology at work here. Not to mention the fact that these kids are from all across Asia, speaking a number of different languages as well as English. I’m a white Anglo-celtic girl living in Sydney and I only speak English. I’m going to miss most of the more nuanced physical gestures and postural moments. So my analysis is really only a beginning place, and I couldn’t possibly see all the detail at work here, least of all because I’m not into popping.
This is a pretty important point. I can’t see all the regulation and management of this public place – this moment of discourse – at work here. So I’d be bound to make mistakes. But because I am a babby, I’d probably be excused quite a few mistakes. So long as my participation improved. These guys are really friendly and welcoming, and I know I’d be cut a fair bit of slack. But eventually, even the most tolerant teachers and peers lose patience with social ineptitude and rudeness in a public forum.
Interestingly, the dancers at this studio encourage new dancers to enter battles almost from the very beginning. I’ve sat in on a casual battle, and a lot of leeway is granted for new dancers. In contrast, there’s a real sense in Australian lindy hop that only the ‘best’ dancers enter competitions, unless the competitions are for ‘up and comers’ or ‘amateurs’. Of course, definitions of ‘best’ vary between cities, and don’t match up comparatively. And, really, the most successful dancers have a very strong sense of self worth and faith in their own abilities. They really believe they are – if not the best dancers – in with a shot at becoming the best. That’s just how competition works. If you don’t really believe you have a chance, you won’t work hard in preparation, you won’t devote time and effort to the project, and you won’t bring your A-game in the final moment.
So this means that we don’t see lindy hoppers developing performance and competition skills in a relaxed, welcoming and informal setting as very new dancers. I’ve noticed the dancers at Crossover develop a real sense of self-awareness and understanding of lines and visual presentation far earlier than most lindy hoppers. They work with mirrors right from the get-go. They spend a lot more time looking up and making eye contact (particularly in battles). In brief, ‘their movements go right to the end of their finger tips’, whereas a lot of lindy hoppers don’t even really know they have hands.
So, when you go to a battle with these guys, there’s rarely an explanation of the ‘rules’, beyond the very basics. This confused me when I first saw them in action. How was judging decided? How long did dancers have to perform? How did they decide who danced in what order? You’ll find rules for competitions on websites before the event, but mostly you just have to figure them out. And of course you won’t be in the competition if you haven’t at least acquired even that much cultural knowledge.
The same sort of thing happens with lindy hop competitions. Though most of the more popular recent comps have far more implied than stated rules. In fact, there was a conscious movement away from prescriptive rules in the US at some point in the early 2000s (I can’t really remember the details, sorry). Most Australian competitions followed this American trend largely as following a trend (rather than as a critical engagement with existing competition culture) a few years later. The exception is Hellzapoppin’, which was deliberately developed as a lindy hopper-run and regulated competition advertised as having ‘no rules’. Though of course it does have rules, and these are listed quite clearly.
These rules are just a little different to other more prescriptive events like the ASDC and rock n roll or ballroom competitions. The inaugural Western Sydney Swing Dance Competition had quite strict, ballroom/rock r roll type rules, but I found it really difficult to discover much about the competition beyond this flyer. I ended up messaging the organisers on faceplant to find out more, then had a fairly long list of rules emailed to me as a pdf (which you can have a look at here). I found these rules really difficult to understand, in part because I’ve done very little competition, but also because I’m not a part of the rock n roll or ballroom dance scenes, which are far more tightly structured and formally organised than the lindy hop scene. I simply don’t have the language tools or cultural knowledge to navigate this sort of text.
The Crossover competition, though, is far more familiar. Rules for larger battles are often discussed in an informal way on faceplant, but more usually discussed in person. But learning the rules of competitions is more a matter of enculturation. The competitive space is as highly regulated as the WSDC, it’s just that the regulation is managed in a different way.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the past analysing lindy hop competition footage in close detail (‘lindy hop followers bring themSELVES to the dance; lindy hop leaders value this’ is probably the best example of how I approach this). It’s a very common practice for most lindy hoppers, and learning how to read dance (whether in footage or in person) is an ongoing process. Dancers are also on the lookout for different things. Leaders and followers often read a dance clip in quite different ways. I look for gender stuff. Someone else might be looking at shoe types. A DJ might be listening for new songs.
I’m going to get completely off-track here with a reference to a very famous dance clip.
This is a still from the Big Apple scene from Keep Punchin, featuring the Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers:
I’ve heard (second-hand, unfortunately), that Frankie Manning described this scene as a dance competition. In fact, the MC in the film introduces it as “The Big Apple contest”. Frankie explained that not only were couples competing against each other, but that individual partners were competing against each other. I’m not sure whether I’ve gotten that story right – it does come to be second-hand. But it’s an interesting idea. Competitors are working in pairs, focussing their performance on each other, as well as on those around them.
This is a bit like the Crossover battles (as far as I can tell – I’m not 100% sure about this next bit). In these battles competitors may enter as teams of two, but they dance alone, focussing their attentions on a particular member of the opposing team. There’s lots to say about focussed competition, and about how dancers in these battles turn their aggressive (yet never violent) competition on when they begin dancing, and then off when they move off the floor. I’m particularly fascinated by the way the non-dancing team member stands in a decidedly ‘I’m not dancing’ pose; they turn off their competitive dance energy, often by not making eye contact with their opponents. That’s some pretty basic non-threatening body language right there.
Right, back on-track, now…
It was quite interesting to see the new competition format for the Harlem 2011. Solo Jazz Contest held in Lithuania. It looks a lot more like the Crossover popping battle than other solo jazz comps in the lindy hop scene. How?
Firstly, here are some screenshots from those clips to illustrate my points:
(Harlem 2011, one of the rounds)
(Crossover popping battle, final)
The three people sitting in the middle at the back are the three judges. We see this in the Crossover battle. They don’t write things down or discuss the competitors in detail, they just point to the dancer they think should win (or cross their arms to indicate indecision). In every other lindy hop competition the judges walk around the floor with clipboards, staring intently at competitors and writing things down before going out to another room to discuss the competition and arrive at a collaborative (or comparative) decision. Sometimes there’s an audience appreciation component. ULHS has a very strong audience appreciation component.
Competitors can dance as long as they like to the song before ceding the floor to their competitor. This is very unlike most other competitions in the lindy hop scene. The ASDC gives each couple one minute from the beginning of a recorded song to do their thing, followed (or preceded) by an ‘all-skate’ where they share the floor with other dancers. The more organic ‘jam format’ gives dancers a phrase (or two) of music each, and each couple or dancer must enter and leave the floor at the beginning/end of that phrase. Failing to do so is read as a failure in basic musicality. The Crossover format assumes that a dancer will dance for as long as they need to bring their best shit. Failing to cede the floor is perceived as a failure to judge their audience, the tone of the competition, and a display of egotism. This is where my understanding of the format ends – I don’t know how dancers know when they should bow out, or when everyone knows too much is too much. This format was also used by the Harlem 2011 competition, and it’s interesting to watch all the clips and see how competitors, audiences, judges and MC negotiate an understanding of these rules. Collaborative meaning making or what?!
Audiences cheer and yell out and otherwise engage with competitors, indicating their approval, admiration, disappointment, awe and so on. This participation is often very important for a dancer making a joke, referencing an historic or iconic move or dancer, or engaging in a little derision, mockery or impersonation. Dancers are focussed on their opponents, but they rely on the audience audibly signaling their engagement with the performance. This all means that the best audiences for these sorts of competitions are also dancers.
There’s so much more to say about this. I’d like to go through and carefully analyse what’s going on in the Crossover clip, and to compare it with various lindy hop and solo clips. There are interesting things to say about the placement of DJs in the competitive space. Or how competitors in a pro or invited jack and jill comp sit in a line at the back of the competition space (they are often actually formally judging each other). This demands comparison with the way lindy hop couples line up in order along the back of the competition space waiting to enter the jam, and are far more actively engaged with the dancers currently on display. And of course, I want to talk about the way the competition space is delineated by these lines of competitors, by the audience, by lighting, by the dance floor itself.
All of these things relate to how the physical competition space is regulated and negotiated by the community, and also by official forces. The ultimate authority is the individual or organisation running the competition. Yet one of the greatest delights in watching street dance (or vernacular dance) competitions is waiting for the moments where rules and authority are deliberately contravened, or at least stretched. When judges request a rematch. When competitors physically touch each other (forbidden!) When competitors touch the audience (doubly forbidden!)
I’d also like to talk about how conversation is managed, both formally and informally. There’s lots of lovely stuff written about all-male and all-female conversation and how formal turn taking dominates all-male talk and interrupting and collaborative meaning making (eg women saying ‘oh no!’ and nodding or saying ‘yes’ regularly interrupt but do not disrupt the speaker) characterises informal all-women talk. I think of dance as discourse, and occasionally use this idea of dance as conversation to explore dance as discourse. It’s not a unique idea – dance teachers use this idea all the time. But while I might have begun thinking of dance partnership in particular as conversation with formal turn taking, I’m now a lot more interested in a model of high level partner dancing as more like collaborative, overlapping conversation. And of course, I extend this idea to include jazz music, with its sections of structured unison, its layers of individual, interrupting parts, and its moments of solo improvisation. I probably like New Orleans stuff because it favours layers of improvisation instead of carefully choreographed unison and demarcated solos.
All that talk about neo swing in that last blog post has had me thinking about zoot suits.
There’s lots of bullshit ‘scholarship’ around about zoot suits. The best thing I’ve ever read about them was a book chapter called “The Right to the City in Los Angeles: Discourse and Practice of a Chicano Alternative Public Sphere” by Raul H. Villa in the book Masses, classes and the public sphere edited by Mike Hill and Warren Montag (2000) (on Google Books).
One of the worst things I’ve ever read was Stuart Cosgrove’s article “The Zoot Suit and Style Warfare” in Angela McRobbie’s edited collection Zoot Suits and Second-Hand Dresses: An Anthology of Fashion and Music (1989). I know it’s a bit of a big call, picking on Cosgrove. But that article is wrongity wrongtown. In so many ways. I haven’t read it in a while, though, so I could be completely mistaken. I just remember it being scarily inaccurate. McRobbie’s talk about second hand dresses in the 80s is a lot more useful.
What is a zoot suit?
This article ‘The Zoot Suit Riots’ (from Manong: The Story of Raymond G. Perla
Photographs and storys from the Manong Generation) isn’t such a bad place to start for a description of the actual item of clothing. Basically, they were really big suits, using lots of fabric, which were popular with some latino/chicano youth in Los Angeles during the second world war. Using lots of fabric was kind of shocking in a time of wartime austerity. Of course, race and ethnicity are the most important parts of this story.
What did a zoot suit look like?
This is a picture of Edward James Olmos in the 1981 film film Zoot Suit:
That film was strange sort of musical. You can find interesting bits of it on Youtube – search. But that’s an 80s version of the zoot suit. Here’s a cool photo of some bloke with Katherine Dunham in 1943. He’s not wearing a zoot suit, but he’s in a pose which looks a lot like a ‘pimp walk’, a key jazz step associated with zoot suits, pimps and swaggering cool. He may have mad skills and be super cool, but he’s not wearing a zoot suit.
Here’s a funny photo of Spike Lee (left) and Denzel Washington (right) in Lee’s 1992 film Malcolm X:
Even better, watch them strutting, pimp-walk style in one of the early scenes of the film here. Malcolm X’s autobiography has some interesting things to say about young black American men and zoot suits. Spike Lee’s film is interesting because so many hardcore totally legit and awesome lindy hoppers were involved in its production, including Frankie Manning and Norma Miller. The dance scene from the film was really influential in the burgeoning swing dance scene at the time. Enjoy the dubbing:
Lee specifically intended to have the film pay homage to the greatest lindy hoppers of the original period: the Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers, Frankie Manning, Norma Mmiller and so on. The dance scene from Malcolm X itself echoes iconic music and dance film sequences from the original swing era. You have only to compare that dance scene with the Jitterbug Contest from Keep Punchin’.
…but anyway, I was talking about zoot suits. Yeah, yeah, Malcolm X is good stuff. But it’s not really getting to the heart of the matter. Where are those Chicanos Villa talks about his fascinating story about Los Angeles?
That’s Cab Calloway. But by the time this photo was taken, he was majorly famous. So he’s not really representing subversive public spheres… or is he? Look, I can’t really explore that here, but it’s worth thinking about Cab Calloway, ethnicity, race, the Cotton Club and performing identity.
Wait. What has all this got to do with lindy hop today. WHY are the white ‘swing dancers’ in Sydney STILL wearing zoot suits?
Ok, so it’s the 80s, right. You’ve looked at that stuff I’ve just linked. Now, in the 80s, lindy hop starts getting a bit of a revival. Young American, British and European (Sweden!) dancers start hunting down living dancers from the 30s and 40s. You can watch a really cool interview with Al Minns, where he talks about the Swedes’ approaching him. In 1989 the band Royal Crown Revue is formed by Eddie Nichols, punk and son of a jazz singer.
Neo swing is getting started. It has its roots in punk, ska, rock and roll. That’s where I remember it starting – my friends’ punk bands were support acts for visiting American bands like Royal Crown Revue, Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, Brian Setzer, Squirrel Nut Zippers, etc etc etc.
Ok, now it’s the 1990s. The film Swing Kids is released in 1993, Swingers in 1996. Lindy hop has gone mainstream. At least in America. In 1998 Gap release this ad for khakis. If Gap are using swing dancing for ads, you know it’s mainstream. I start dancing lindy hop in Brisbane in 1998, only a little while after classes started there. But it’d been in Sydney for a little while already. It’d only just started happening in Melbourne. We have the rock n roll and latin dance scenes to blame for lindy hop’s popularity in Sydney and Melbourne, and the influence of immigrant Brits.
Yeah, yeah, ZOOT SUITS?!
In 1997 the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies release a song called ‘Zoot Suit Riot’. It supposedly has something to do with the zoot suit riots.
I’m sure LA lindy hoppers watching that video can see lots of famous names and people. But when I watch that clip, all I can hear is the song, and all I can see is the first dance performance I did in public. ARGH. MY EARS.
And at the time, all those bright suits and big hats and black and white shoes had indy cred. That stuff was cool.
[EDIT: This is one of a number of loosely-associated posts about music in Sydney lindy hop today. This list includes:
This is a story about live music in Sydney, and how lindy hoppers and swing dancers use it and find it. I’m really going only on anecdotal evidence, backed up by my own supposition and thinking. I don’t have a lot of hardcore facts about the history of Sydney lindy hop to back me up. So I’ve tried to avoid talking about anything besides the 2008-2011 period, and to keep my comments about stuff I don’t know anything about to a minimum.
Sydney’s swing dancers like live music.
Perhaps the most important factor in attracting a dancing crowd to a live music gig is a sympathetic venue. This means venues actually letting dancers dance, and then understanding that they can cater to both dancing tight-arse dancers and drinking, non-dancing punters. The Unity Hall Hotel always hosts a group of dancers on Sunday. The Camelot Lounge hosts some of the best live jazz in Sydney (from interstate and local artists). Venue 505 has initiated its own dancer-centred gigs showcasing some astonishingly good Sydney musicians. The Sydney Festival always attracts a zillion dancers, particular events like the Trocadero Dance Palace and Spiegeltent. In contrast, while the Sydney Jazz Club hosts some of the finest jazz bands in the country (and from overseas), it uses venues with smaller dance floors, rubbish food and lame, ‘old people’ vibes. RSLs. Outdoor parks. Yacht club function rooms midday and mid-week.
Our live jazz music (music suitable for lindy hop or ball or blues or whatevs) scene is healthy: lots of good bands, made up of jazznick elder statesmen and young guns. The older jazznicks largely cater to a rapidly aging jazz fan base, neglecting a potentially lucrative market. This is a shame, as Sydney is home to some of the country’s finest (older) musicians. I can go on and on and on about the Ozcats. Or the Unity Hall Jazz band. But these musicians and bands have a weak online presence, relying on face to face promotion, flyer drops at events, local radio announcements and the powerful Sydney Jazz Club old school social network: word of mouth. Nanna power. Sydney lindy hoppers use a combination of online talk (mostly through faceplant) and face to face talk to decide which bands to go see and when.
(The Cope Street Parade)
Younger jazz bands and musicians – many of whom have been associated with the Sydney Conservatorium of Music – are an interesting group. They’ve made good use of online tools. They have faceplant pages, myspace pages, a presence on sites like Reverb Nation, their own websites and occasionally twitter accounts. Faceplant is by far the most influential of these tools, but really only in concert with other media (a solid website or myspace page, soundclips or videos on faceplant itself). A group of these younger musicians are involved in a number of bands showcasing different types of early 20th century American folk music – from sacred singers (you can find the Surry Hills Sacred Harp Singers on faceplant) to bluegrass and hot jazz combos. They’re also launching a record label, Yum Yum Tree Records.
These musicians have strong relationships with younger lindy hoppers who travel or who are otherwise plugged into the modern lindy hopping world, via faceplant, youtube and other online social media. The Cope Street Parade has a core group of keen dancers following them to their (pretty much) weekly gigs. Cope Street’s popularity can no doubt be attributed to their musical style. They have much in common with popular American ‘street jazz’ bands like the Careless Lovers, Smoking Time Jazz Club, the massively popular Tuba Skinny and The Loose Marbles. This sort of music has been hugely popular with American and European lindy hoppers lately, and many of the younger Sydney dancers in particular are on board with this trend.
Pugsley Buzzard also has a keen fan base. His month long residency earlier in 2011 at The Mac in Surry Hills attracted dancers even with only a carpeted space for dancing. He’s also performed at the Sydney Lindy Exchange a few times, is booked in for the Sydney Swing Patrol christmas party next week, and has played for dancers at Canberrang this year. He is, sadly, relocating to Melbourne.
(The Velvet Set)
This brings me to the neo swing or ‘swing’ bands which cater to a slightly different audience. Bands like the The Velvet Set offer neo swing and crooner jazz rather than proper swing, but are very popular with ‘swing dancing’ crowd, some lindy hoppers and the rock n roll crowd. That’s what I want to talk about, but I think I need to talk a bit more about Sydney lindy hop and swing dancing demographics first.
I wonder if Sydney’s interest in live music is in part an indication of some of the troubles this scene has had over the last two four years. Sydney is an old scene – the oldest in Australia, founded in the mid 1990s or so. But its numbers and cultural complexity have fluctuated. Numbers had been down, with more experienced hardcore lindy hop dancers suffering some teaching fatigue and newer dancers not sticking around til they become hardcore. But our numbers have picked up in the last year. This means that Sydney is essentially a ‘newer’ scene and an older scene: a mix of very enthusiastic newer dancers and experienced dancers in a range of age groups.
It’s really not been until the last couple of years that we’ve seen Sydney dancers traveling to interstate events in significant numbers, though they have always travelled overseas, often in quite large numbers. There’s always been one or two or a handful at interstate events, but the last two years in particular have seen whole squads traveling to Melbourne, Perth, Adelaide, Canberra. All this travel within Australia has seen personal relationships developing between Sydney and interstate dancers. Relationships fostered by faceplant in a really important way: this is where people share videos and email addresses, encourage each other to visit again and finally get to talk to people they’ve only danced with. Interstate travel has also been important for making Sydney dancers aware of the limitations of their very small pond. They may be big fish at home, but they’re meeting and seeing and dancing with some much larger fish from much larger ponds. This sudden reality check can break a dancer’s confidence, but it can also spur a sudden interest in improving dancing skills. Competitions are, once again, a space where these sorts of realisations occur.
There are three (or four – I’m not sure exactly; the western suburbs are a mystery to me) major teaching entities in Sydney, and there isn’t a whole lot of interaction between all the schools. Two of these schools, catering for inner city and inner suburb areas – have plenty of students in common, which I think is a really good thing. If you provide diverse learning environments for students, you stimulate their interests and you create a market for mo social dancing and mo classes. Win! Only these two schools run DJed social dancing nights and have a real connection with other cities’ scenes and large events. The other schools are quite isolated, in terms of international lindy hopping culture, and I think this has had a detrimental effect on their dance skills and (dare I say it) musical taste.
But to get back to the whole neo swing thing, Sydney overall has a much stronger link with neo swing and rock n roll than Melbourne or other cities. There’s a hardcore lindy hopping/balboa crowd, but there’s an even larger group of dancers who are often older, began dancing in the 90s, or have much stronger links with rock n roll dancing and music. Many of the people guys often think of themselves as ‘swing dancers’ or ‘doing swing dance’, but I wouldn’t call them lindy hoppers. They may take the odd ‘swing dance’ class from lindy hoppers, but their first love is rock n roll (or rockabilly)
The younger ones are a lot more interested in looking good than the average lindy hopper. Many of them have stronger links with the goth or hardcore vintage fashion scene than with a dance scene. Dancing might be part of their social lives, but only part. Lindy hop tends to absorb your whole life, to become your lifestyle. This ‘swing’/rock n roll crowd have hardcore retro/vintage outfits, ride or drive vintage motorbikes or cars, and bring much more money to the bar. I suspect that their interest in looking good impedes their dancing ability. Rock n roll is easier than lindy hop, and guys can stand around looking good while they manhandle their (ALWAYS female) partners through endless spins. I am being quite harsh here, but while they look very good, this scene is not really all that when it comes to mad dance skills. Although, if you’re looking for a hot partner for a quick shag, this is a much better place to look than your average lindy hop scene.
The best attended live music events are in that neo swing/rock n roll vein.
This Swing V Rockabilly poster is a good example of the sorts of things I’m trying to explain. The ‘swing’ guy in this poster (on the left) is what I associate with late 90s lindy hop – zoot suits, black and white shoes, wallet chains, hats. Very Hey-Pachuco! It kind of makes me cringe, because I associate it with the scene when I started dancing in Brisbane, and which I tend to associate with the neo swing scene, which was much more closely linked to ska and punk than jazz. Sure, it’s lots of fun – it was lots of fun – but the dancing was a bit rubbish, and it’s a bit dated. Lindy hoppers kind of got game these days.
Hardcore badass top shelf lindy hoppers look a bit more like this:
This is a photo by Bobby Bonsey, which I found here. He’s taken some really lovely photos of dancers. He’s also a badarse dancer. I particularly like this one of Chance and Giselle competing. I think that Bobby’s photos really capture the feel of American lindy hop today, which is much more athletic and physically exciting than 1990s Australian lindy hop. Lindy hoppers today look a lot more like the Whitey’s lindy hoppers – sinewy, fit, athletic. Like long distance runners or gymnasts. They wear form-fitting clothes that won’t impede their speed. They’re a long way from the zoot suits and silly cheap black and white shoes of the 1990s. And the ‘swing dance’ scene of Sydney today.
When I look at that ‘swing v rockabilly’ poster, I wouldn’t count any of those bands as ‘good lindy hopping bands’. They’re really rock and roll bands, but with mo brass. Most of them are quite good bands – lots of fun, lots of energy, good live shows. But not as musically accomplished as bands like Glenn Crytzer’s Blue Rhythm band. Crytzer’s band combines the exciting, rough-edged ‘authenticity’ of street jazz (and Meschiya Lake contributes in a big way to that feel in this clip) with solidly ‘authentic’ hot jazz instrumentation, arrangements and feeling. Here, let me show you what I mean:
This band feels like a real progresion – musically, technically, stylistically – from what’s been popular with dancers lately. Old school music and dancing. Street jazz ‘honesty’ and emotion. Exciting, committed musicians really connecting with dancers. Crytzer’s been engaged with the lindy hop scene in a big way (I’ve written about this before in Bands For Dancing), and his band is really top notch, swinging hot jazz. Also: uber exciting fun.
In contrast the Velvet Set are trotting out almost exactly the same set lists as swing DJs were playing twenty years ago. Crooners. Covers of ages-old neo swing songs. I don’t particularly like neo swing for lindy hop (because it doesn’t swing, and because it’s a bit naff), but I respect neo swing bands writing their own songs, improving their skills and really bringing their best to music they love. Here, check it out:
I don’t mean to badmouth the Velvet Set. They really are filling a niche in the market – there are plenty of dancers in Sydney who really like this stuff. They like the crooners, the covers of neo songs. Either because they were there in the 90s when this was the swing scene (this 2001 clip kind of gives you an idea of that scene), or because it moves them now. I think neo swing is accessible for many dancers – especially those from the rock n roll scene and new to lindy hop – because it’s a lot more like modern rock music and a lot less like proper swinging jazz. Swinging rhythms and hot jazz can be quite alien for new dancers, and neo swing has a clear, unswinging beat that sounds a lot safer. And people really like that pin-striped, zoot suit look.
This is quite interesting, because 1930s and 40s Australia really didn’t have the sort of ‘pure’ lindy hop culture that the US did. The sort of dancing these modern ‘swing dancers’ do, with its emphasis on 6-count steps like pass-bys, under-arm turns and so on (rather than the swingouts and more varied, complex counts and rhythms of lindy hop) actually look a lot more like the ‘swing dancers’ of the 1940s in this 1944 newsreel (thanks to Bobby White for reminding me of this).
This means that we nerds harping on about lindy hop – Harlem or LA – style, are actually less historically accurate (for our geography) than the ‘swing dancers’ at the Swing v Rockabilly gig. But then, a bunch of modern day middle class Sydney kids pretending to be working class black New York kids from the 30s is kind of dodgy, historically (and ideologically) speaking anyway.
To sum all that up, we’re looking at two different ‘swing dancing’ cultures in Sydney, the lindy hop one and the one more closely associated with rock n roll and neo swing. There’s lots of cross-pollination (usually lindy hoppers visiting ‘swing dance’ events), but they are distinct musical and dancing styles, and overall equate to a large Sydney dance scene which has always had strong links to the live music scene. It’s just that only one really gets into 1930s and 40s swinging jazz music. And that other likes it with a backbeat and a well-stocked bar. All this means that Sydney has a labouring DJing culture, a scene obsessed with live music, and lots and lots of social dancing nights – run by dancers and by local venues putting on bands.
Sydney’s interest in live music also means that we’ll turn out in force for visiting musicians from interstate or overseas. And by force, I mean a few hundred dancers – both hardcore lindy hoppers and ‘swing dancers’ of the more rock and roll variety. Sydney is a great town for live music, and that has bled into the dancing community, something that didn’t really happen in Melbourne, for instance, until very recently.
I might not be a fan of neo swing, but I do realise that having a vibrant partner dancing scene is a very good thing for lindy hop. And an interest in live music is good for musicians, and good for dancing.
[Edit: if you’re still struggling with the zoot suit thing, I wrote a post called zoot suit riot (riot) about it.]
[EDIT: This is one of a number of loosely-associated posts about music in Sydney lindy hop today. This list includes:
