Category Archives: lindy hop and other dances

hot male bodies

I talk an awful lot about women’s bodies, and women and the erotic gaze. I am, of course, working with the assumption that most dance performances are geared towards a male gaze, which Laura Mulvey introduces in her 1975 article “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”, and which caused such a stir Screen then devoted an entire issue to the matter. But I wonder if that’s what’s actually going on in dance performances? Are we really that dull? In this post I’m going to look at some hot male bodies, and see how we might go about fucking up shit in the modern swing dance world. High heel shoes: for all!


This idea of the male gaze was originally constructed as a response to mainstream narrative cinema, and argues that mainstream narrative films are constructed (from story to shot framing and mise en scene) for an imaginary, idealised male viewer. In this context, men and male protagonists operate as the active, subjective heroes (the people the viewer wants to be) and the women are reduced to bodies to be objectified, acted upon by others (the object the viewer wants to possess or act upon).

You can see how this approach would stimulate lots of discussion. It’s an inherently heterocentric reading: what about queer women watching these female, sexualised bodies on screen? What about queer men watching and wanting to possess and be the male subject? And is it really useful to use this fairly fucked up psychoanalytic approach to cinema which boils everything down to sex? Whether you dig Mulvey’s approach or not, she certainly started people talking – in loud and quite excited ways – about the way cinema constructs stories and images of bodies and people, and she invited us to critique assumptions about gender and power in cinema studies. Which can only be a good thing.

Now I don’t have much patience with psychoanalysis as a tool for analysing film and performance. I don’t think it works, mostly because it boils everything down to sex, and I think that this approach tells us a lot more about 19th century middle class Austrian men than about cinema. But I do think there are some interesting starting points, here. And I want to apply them to dance. Because that is what I do. I’m also interested in the way vernacular dances – on-stage and off – allow the audiences and performers to interact, in a way that cinema does not. In a dance performance, the sexualised body (be it male or female) is capable of physically, verbally and discursively interacting with the audience whose gaze they’ve invited. I think this adds a really interesting and exciting element to the fairly dull model of visual pleasure.

…I have to mention, much of this discussion draws – in a fairly long distance way – on Judith Butler’s talk about gender performance in Gender Trouble. If I had room, I’d go into that, and then into transgender performance, but I don’t think any of us could be bothered with that now. Another time perhaps.

It’s tempting to leap into a discussion about burlesque here. But I’ve done that already (in this post ‘My concerns about burlesque’), and I’m kind of over it. I want to talk about something new. I want to remind people that it’s not only women who are sexualised and men who are sexualising. Just as Mulvey was a starting point for discussions of cinema, I want to move on from talking about sexualising women’s bodies in dance (in the context of contemporary swing dance culture) and talk about sexualising men’s bodies.

I’d like to pause here, and note that I once delivered a conference paper on the sexualised male body in blues dance performance. I was squished, once again, into a panel that featured no other dance talk. In fact, I was after a woman talking about child rape and sexualised children and before a woman talking about literature by women who’ve survived rape. The crowd was all women, with one or two scared young men, and these were hardcore queer studies women, who were absolutely disinterested in men. Sexually, socially or academically.
At one point during my paper, as I began a section discussing the appeal of a young, well-muscled man performing a highly sexualised solo blues routine, I thought “aw fuck.” Needless to say, my lines about the pleasures of gazing upon Falty’s fine young frame and his own pleasure in his body and performance did not go down well.

But, then, this is the point of it all. We are not all watching cinema in the same way. Each text yields – encourages! – a range of viewing positions and ways of looking.

But let’s pause and consider the clip with which I tried to excite those angry lesbian separatists:

linky

The nice thing about this clip… well, hells, there are plenty of nice things about this clip. But the one I most prefer is the way solo dance is more accommodating of a queer gaze than partner dance. In fact, solo dance gives us a chance to side step heteronormativity. Here is a young, healthy man dancing for his own pleasure, and engaging with a range of discourses about gender and sex and sexualised bodies and audiences and performances. He is not anchored to a particular partner (and associated sexual preference). He is autonomous, sexually complete in himself. Which is pretty interesting, as women-as-sexual-object are pretty integral accessories to the heteronormative, hegemonic Man that patriarchy digs.

Despite Mike’s independent display, this is also definitely a performance for an audience – the audience in the room, watching, the audience behind the camera, the other dancers in the performance itself, who are following and imitating his movements. The last is especially interesting: here is a young, white man modelling sexualised dance movements for a range of women and men.

Fascinating, much?

Most importantly, though, Mike’s performance climbs and climbs and climbs, the tension increasing, the sexual show exaggerated and exaggerated until it suddenly tips over. His taking off his shirt is met with screams of delight and excitement, embarrassment, laughter, clapping – all the lovely responses this sort of display requires. It’s not until we see his grin that we are let in on the joke. He knows that this is exaggerated play, and we are allowed to see that he both enjoys the attention (as he should – this is the point of it all, right? Pleasure in being the object/subject as well as pleasure for the observer?) and has performed for us. He doesn’t quite slip out out of character, but it’s very clear that this has all been framed as performance. It’s not, for example, a real performance of sexual invitation. … is it?

[Note: understanding the difference between real sexual invitation and, well, just being there in your body, is something a lot of men have trouble with. They assume that all women are constantly available. If they are outside their homes (or inside them), wearing revealing clothing (or not)… hellz, just breathing. I feel the urge to explore the currently-raging slutwalk debate, but I don’t have the energy. But I would like to link to this article to suggest my concerns about the topic.

But all this makes it clear that we cannot compare male and female sexualised performance in a cultural vacuum. We need to remember context. And for me, that is patriarchy.]

Well, the point of my using this clip here is to say, well, fuck. That conference paper failed. Can you see how it went down awfully in that session? Right. Framing is everything for this sort of show.

So let me show you three other clips. They’re all blues dancing performances. Two are partner blues, one is solo blues. But to frame that one as ‘solo’ blues is a little misleading. The most successful of these types of solo blues ‘battles’ or competitions rely, utterly, on engagement between competitors, and between competitors and audience. Visual play, but also aural and oral engagement. Between dancers and audience, but also between musicians and dancers. There is no solo in solo blues competitions. Not if you’re doing it right. This is not a self-contained performance of sexual immanence. It’s a battle, a demonstration, a performance of sexualised movement which requires interaction. Demands it. This is the call; you bring the response.

I’ll begin with that other solo performance, then. This is the solo blues final from the Ultimate Lindy Hop Showdown in New Orleans, 2009. I’m most interested in the first minute of the competition. You might be interested in the rest, to compare the male and female performers/performances, but I just want to talk about the men, here. Though I have to note: it is rare to find men in solo blues comps. And their style is very, very different to the women’s. And don’t get me started on the whole not wearing shoes thing.

linky

That particular dancer is Dax Hock. He’s been a professional dancer and performer for years, and, obviously, possesses the mad skills. I like the way he engages with the other (women) performers, and the way he displays his body (and mad skills) to the audience. This is at once a highly sexualised male body, but also a very professional demonstration of performance and dance skills. He won that competition.

As you watch, listen as well. Listen to the audience’s response. To the band and consider the way Dax engages with both. This, to my mind, is where the real skill lies.

There are so many things to talk about in this performance. The references to Snake Hips Tucker, a frightening, mesmerising performer. The moments where Dax spreads his legs ridiculously wide, from the hip, suggesting invitation and echoing a woman’s spread legs as invitation for penetration. In a man, this is transgressive: he invites the gaze, the penetration. But it is also aggressively hegemonic masculinity: admire the phallus (down here!). This is sex talk. With the body. He makes eye contact with the audience, with a suggestive/aggressive invitation to admire him (a cocked head, a nod, the eye contact). He repeats this when he turns to address the other competitors, but his more blatant hip thrust (and display) is less a marker of sexual invitation as an invitation to compare sexual/dancing ability in competition. It’s derision dancing at its finest (I’ve written about derision in dance in regards to race and violence in blues music here, and there are links to references there).

The comparison of male and female sex/groin/performance is interesting as well. A man asking a woman to compete with him for the audience’s attention… is he asking the women to compete with him for the male gaze? For a male/female gaze? Really, I think this is where the term ‘queer’ really comes in useful: he’s inviting women to participate as equals (well, as not-quite-equals) in a performance/display/competition to be both sexual object and subject for a male/female/straight/gay/bi queer gaze. He’s fucking up gender norms here.

But it is the music that makes it all wonderful. The song is shouting ‘sex!’, but it’s also shouting ‘humour!’ and ‘laugh!’ and ‘shout!’ and parody and engagement… so many things, so many different points from which to engage with it, that it defies that heteronormative, male gaze narrative. Which is how blues and jazz roll, really. Slippage. It has it. And Dax, wonderfully, extends that aural invitation with his body.

Do note, here, that we are looking at two young, fit, healthy white male bodies. Not too transgressive, huh? But perhaps it is…?

Let’s move on. Here’s something different. Another competition from that same ULHS 2009. This time it’s partner blues. So we see heterosexuality on display. Or do we? As with most of these sorts of dance competitions, I always wonder if the men are really engaging with the other male performers and with the men in the audience (who are also ‘dancers’) more than with the women they dance with.

linky.

So let’s look at the point where Peter dances with Ramona. They’re the second couple, entering at about 0.24 (and yes, Todd’s exit, facing them, his back to his own partner, legs spread, does invite some discussion of phallic competition, yes?). The point I like most is at 0.29, where he breaks them into open position – they’re not touching – and he proceeds to perform for her, and ultimately for us within the frame of their heterosexual pairing. Yes, this is for her (and she responds), but ultimately, we all know that this is for us, the people watching and judging. How are we to assess his performance? In part through Ramona’s response to him. She likes it? He must be hot/good. But we’re also invited to see how his sexualised display (more hips, more pelvis) invites her creative response.

With all this to-ing and fro-ing between Peter and other male competitors and the audience, I’m seeing a whole lot of queer, right here. Particularly when you think about the dance partnership as a professional, working creative partnership. It is always implied, but a professional dancing relationship like Ramona and Peter’s, is not necessarily sexualised. So while Peter and Ramona present as a nice, straight couple, they don’t work that way on every level. So they become available for a little queer co-opting.

The best part of reading on the slant like this, is that I’m pretty sure the men involved wouldn’t be comfortable with my reading them this way. Straight man panics! omg! they might think I’m gay! I’d better butch up! And NSFW!! there’s nothing queerer than the hypermasculine, right? SFW Right? And I have a feeling they’d be equally uncomfortable with the thought of straight and queer women and straight and queer men (let alone transfolk) finding this queering hot.

Here, a short aside. There’s nothing new about straight women imagining straight male pairings as gay. Queering them. Camille Bacon Smith writes about it in her book Enterprising Women, in relation to Spock/Kurk slash. Personally, I enjoy the thought of Sam and Dean Winchester as secret boyfriends. And I’m not alone. But for me, the real pleasure lies not so much in what they actually do together in this imaginary sexual(ised) relationship, but in the thought of their queering – their fucking up – the heternormative world. I like imagining that Dean and Sam have whole lives beyond the television episodes we see. And this enriches what I do see on screen.

I mean, to make alternative readings of women and women’s sexuality work, we have to have alternative masculinities as well. It’s the subversion, the transgression, the rule breaking and naughtiness that I find so appealing. I especially like the way we can read against the grain this way and no one can stop us.

But let me give you one final clip. This one is another partnered blues performance. But it’s not in a competition. So there’s display, but not the same sense of competitiveness.

linky

This one is interesting for the fact that this is a white woman dancing with a black man. There are all sorts of discussions about the young African American man as hypersexualised ‘buck’ to be explored here (check out Donald Bogle’s work on stereotypes of black American identity for a starting place). But I don’t have the references to hand. But I do think it’s cool to see the way this performance subverts that mythology. Here is a young black man with seriously mad dance skills. He has brilliant control. We can see culturally specific as well as gendered movements and bodily awareness at work here. But they are working together as partners. The difference in style is what makes this work. The humour – the parts where we laugh or smile at the jokes – defuse the sexual tension, but at the same time heighten it. It’s the adrenaline and chemical high of laughing that makes us feel good, and we’re more likely to read sexualised subtext as sexualised if we’re feeling good. Or so the theory goes.

This is my favourite partnered blues dance performance. I like the humour, it reflects the things I like about a lot of blues music. I love the use of solo and traditional jazz steps. I adore the use of tango rhythms and styling, as tango was massively popular at the same time as blues music in the 1920s. This is recorded music, not a live band, but it’s a modern performance – Winton Marsalis – covering Jelly Roll Morton’s song ‘New Orleans Bump’. Marsalis himself suggests an engagement with race and ethnicity (though he never seems to gain any sense of reflexivity about gender and sexuality!). And Jelly Roll Morton? Well. He’s all about braggadocio and sexualised masculine performance.

There’s lots more to say about all these. But I think I want to end here, pointing out that my favourite parts of all these are:

  • The male bodies (rather than female) presented for an eroticised gaze.
    Men are presented (and presenting themselves) as sexual objects as well as subjects. I think that this transgression is a useful model not only for other male dancers, but for women dancers as well. As I said on FB, these guys make it clear that the sisters need to put their shoes on and get their action in gear.
  • The invitation to play and to laugh is central to the sexualised display.
    Laughter is about rule breaking. It interrupts power and control. It is power and control. For many women, their greatest fear is being laughed at or ridiculed because they aren’t sexy/beautiful/young/skinny/white/whatever enough. I think that we can gain some sense of self power to engage with the humour in an assertive way. Combining humour and dance is very difficult. It requires a great deal of skill and confidence. Why not model our dancing on the example set by men, and then twist it, queer it, to undo the traditional gender and power dynamics?
  • It’s all about breaking rules.
    I really, really like performances which break rules. I don’t like to see people hurt or humiliated. I do like to see assumptions about what is ‘proper’ tipped upside down. I do like to be surprised. Patriarchy is boring. Heteronormativity is dull. I want to be entertained. And these are performances. If I’m going to stop dancing and sit down for 3 minutes (or longer), you need to make it worth my while.
  • It moves us away from the boring, stupid idea of sexualised performance embodied in boring second rate burlesque. Yes, ladies, there are other ways of being powerful, sexually, than just presenting your body like a big present for male audiences.

Do, please, go on and seek out other images of men dancing that subvert the hetero stuff. There’s plenty about, from both present day dancers and historic dances. Why not start with these:

[EDIT: I would really like to engage with the race stuff in the final clip, but I don’t feel I’m properly up to date on the literature, so I’d just be bullshitting my way through. But race is absolutely central to this stuff. Contemporary American swing dance culture (accommodating all the related dances) is dominated by white, middle class young people. Dancing dances that developed in black working class and working poor American communities in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. This has to be addressed, if we are talking power.]

References

Bacon Smith, Camille, Enterprising Women: Television Fandom and the Creation of Popular Myth, Pennsylvania Press: USA, 1992.

Bogle, Donald, Uncle Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies and Bucks: An Interpretative History of Blacks in Films, Viking Press: USA, 1973.
(this topic is introduced in the chapter ‘Origins of Black Body Politics’ of Jackson’s book)

Butler, Judith, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity, Routledge: USA, 1990.

Jackson, Ronald L, Scripting the Black Masculine Body: Identity, Discourse, and Racial Politics in Popular Media, Suny: USA, 2006.

Mulvey, Laura, ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,’ Screen 16.3 (Autumn 1975): pg 6-18.

LOLMulvey image from alibosworth

LOLFreud image from you are doing that wrong

-> both c/o LOLTHEORISTS

LOLButler image from thrownoverboard

I hate the capitalist system, or DJing blues

Last night I did a blues set for the first time in a while, and it was the first time in ages that I feel I did a decent job. It was easier this time because we weren’t in the huge, high-ceilinged, cold room, but in a smaller, lower-ceilinged, darker room where the couches were right in there. I like an L-shaped room for this sort of thing, but only if the couches are in the little ‘leg’ of the L and the dancing in the main part. We also had a better sound system – one that used a proper mixer rather than just plugging straight into the speaker (!!!).

The space made a big difference to me, but it was even more important for the dancers, who could actually get into the songs emotionally. I saw a lot more movement with emotional commitment, or at least movement that was dancing rather than just moving about on the dance floor. There also seemed to be better communication between the partners, which was also nice to see. Once again there were too few leads, but this lead to lots of talking and fun-having by the women standing about on the side lines, which was a relief. But I’d still like to see more women leading to forestall this problem. Guess we need some good role modelling, huh?

Speaking of role modelling, in this post I’m going to explore the themes of the lyrics and delivery of the songs I played, as well as how they worked in the room. They are all pretty hardcore, politically speaking.

Here’s the set I played:
Friday 6 May 2011, 9.50-10:50

I’m Feeling Alright – Big Mama Thornton – Ball N’ Chain – 111 – 1968 – 3:00

Sleep in Late – Molly Johnson – Another Day – 87 – 2002 – 2:48

Built for Comfort – Taj Mahal In Progress & In Motion (1965-1998) – 98 – 1998 – 4:46

Ballin’ the Jack – Mona’s Hot Four (Dennis Lichtman, Gordon Webster, Cassidy Holden, Nick Russo, Jesse Selengut, Dan Levinson) – Live at Mona’s – 111 – 2009 – 5:27

Reckless Blues – Louis Armstrong and his All Stars (Velma Middleton, Trummy Young Edmund Hall, Billy Kyle, Everett Barksdale, Squire Gersh, Barrett Deems) – The Complete Decca Studio Recordings of Louis Armstrong and the All Stars (disc 06) – 88 – 1957 – 2:30

Come Easy Go Easy – Rosetta Howard acc. by the Harlem Blues Serenaders (Charlie Shavers, Buster Bailey, Lil Armstrong, Ulysses Livingston, Wellman Brand, O’Neil Spencer) – Rosetta Howard (1939-1947) – 90 – 1939 – 3:03

Moaning The Blues – Victoria Spivey acc by Henry ‘Red’ Allen, JC Higginbotham, Teddy Hill, Luis Russell – Henry Red Allen And His New York Orchestra (disc 1) – 97 – 1929 – 3:07

I Ain’t No Ice Man – Cow Cow Davenport with Joe Bishop, Sam Price, Teddy Bunn, Richard Fullbright – History of the Blues (disc 02) – 89 – 1938 – 2:51

Amtrak Blues – Alberta Hunter (acc by Doc Cheatham, Vic Dickenson, Fran Wess, Norris Turney, Billy Butler, Gerald Cook, Aaron Bell, Jackie Williams) – Amtrak Blues – 95 – 1978 – 3:24

Back Water Blues – Belford Hendricks’ Orchestra with Dinah Washington – Ultimate Dinah Washington – 71 – 1957 – 4:58

Cherry Red – Big Joe Turner, Joe Newman, Lawrence Brown, Pete Brown, Frank Wess, Pete Johnson, Freddie Green, Walter Page, Cliff Leeman – The Boss Of The Blues – 96 – 1956 – 3:25

Sweet Home Chicago – David “Honeyboy” Edwards – Sun Records – The Blues Years, 1950 – 1958 CD4 – 112 – 3:01

Knock on wood – Ike And Tina Turner – The Ike & Tina Turner Archive Series : Hits & Classics Vol.1 – 119 – 1998 – 2:31

Hound Dog – Big Mama Thornton – Very Best Of – 76 – 2:52

Backlash Blues – Nina Simone – Nina Simone Sings the Blues – 78 – 1967 – 2:32
Things are Slow – Barbara Dane – I Hate the Capitalist System – 91 – 4:17

3 O’clock In The Morning Blues – Ike and Tina Turner Putumayo Presents: Mississippi Blues – 64 – 1969 – 2:40

Sugar Blues – Preservation Hall – The Hurricane Sessions – 61 – 2007 – 5:02

I came in with that Big Mama Thornton song because it usually works: loud, high energy, lots of fun, hi-fi. But that wasn’t quite right in this darker, more mellow room. I was a bit nervy, though, and felt a bit out of practice, so I went with something I’d tried before.

Followed up with Molly Johnson because it’s a good change. It went down a lot better than the Thornton, but I still wasn’t happy. The floor filled up, though.

Taj Mahal after that, and that worked well. Though it still felt a bit loud and shouty, it did go down quite well. I do like the way he’s singing about being built for comfort, not speed:

Some folks built like this,
Built like that,
Don’t you howl at me, don’t you call me fat!
You know I’m built for comfort, I ain’t built for speed.
Oh, sweet papa Earl, got everything sweet mama need.

Then a song by Mona’s Hot Four, which I adore. It went down surprisingly well for something which is quite long, quite emotionally intense (though not as serious as some). It was nice to move towards a banjo/piano/group impro sound. Also, I really dig that Gordon Webster (piano)/Jesse Selengut (vocal) combination. ‘Balling the Jack’ is a dance, but it’s also a sexual euphemism.

Because people seemed to be ok with the more serious, intense sound, I decided to slow it down and head towards some saucier, slower old school stuff. This Armstrong modern All Star stuff is good for that. I overplay this song in blues, which is kind of ok because there really isn’t a repertoire of ‘favourites’ or ‘overplayed’ songs in Sydney blues yet. I think dancers need something familiar when they’re only beginning to get into social dancing, and the Sydney blues scene is really only just finding its feet again. Reckless Blues is sung by a woman, about being a woman who takes risks. Romantic/sexual ones by implication (and the feel of the music), but the broader theme is that this is a woman who does as she likes.

Then Rosetta Howard. This is where I really wanted to be. I don’t get to play this sort of scratchy blues here in Sydney much, mostly because we tend to use venues with fucked up sound systems. But this is my blues dancing and DJing happy place. Check out the band in that song. Wowsers!
‘Come Easy Go Easy’ is about having money that comes easy, goes easy – spending money freely, whether it’s your own or your man’s.

Then, finally, I get to play Moanin The Blues for dancers! Best song ever! Of all time! It went down a treat, which was very nice. It is, of course, about a man who’s no good, and gets a good telling off. But it’s also a song about sex. And being really good at it.

Now you talk about the black snake blues,
Well you haven’t heard no moanin’ yet,
ooohhh yeah
aaaall day long
And when you hear this moanin’,
This moanin you will never forget.

aaaaiiiii oooo
mmmmm- mmmmmm
(moaning)
Well I know I can moan,
I don’t see how I lost my happy home.

Well it was on a Sunday mornin’,
I didn’t feel so good
I felt like a cow when she has lost her cud,
I began a moanin’
all day long.

And when you hear me a moanin’
You can bet sweet mama feel good.

aaaaiiiii oooo
mmmmm- mmmmmm
(moaning)
Lord I know I can moan,
I don’t see how I lost my home.

Well I’m the only one in my family
to take a biscuit to pieces
put back just how it was,
Oh, when I’m moanin’,
all day long.
Yes, I can kick my leg high,
and you oughtta see me do the bug.

aaaaiiiii oooo
mmmmm- mmmmmm
(moaning)

After that I had a feeling the dancers had kind of used up their scratch song skills, and would need a change of pace. So I played this last one (I Ain’t No Ice Man), and had considered following up with Butterbeans and Susie then going to C W Stoneking’s duet stuff, but aborted at the last minute. That Stoneking stuff really isn’t very good, and it would look particularly bad next to the Butterbeans and Susie stuff, which is very good.

The lyrics to this song are fairly standard blokey bravado about sexual prowess, but in this context, where I’m focussing on women vocalists and women’s feelings about sex and men, it changes the implication. Less all about men, and just one man’s contribution to a wider discussion about sex:

I ain’t no iceman,
I ain’t no iceman’s son
I ain’t no iceman,
I ain’t no iceman’s son,
but I can keep you cool
until the iceman comes

I ain’t no woodchopper,
I ain’t not woodchopper’s son,
I ain’t no woodchopper,
I ain’t not woodchopper’s son,
but babe, I can chop your kindlin,
until the woodchopper comes.

Baby, I ain’t no stoveman,
I ain’ no stoveman’s son,
Baby, I ain’t no stoveman,
I ain’ no stoveman’s son,
but I can keep you heated up,
baby til the stoveman comes.

Baby, I ain’t no butcher,
and I ain’t no butcher’s son,
I ain’t no butcher,
I ain’t no butcher’s son,
But I can promise you plenty a meat,
baby til the butcher comes.

I ain’t no milkman,
I ain’t no milkman’s son,
I ain’t no milkman,
I ain’t no milkman’s son,
But I can promise you plenty a cream,
baby til that milkman comes.

So I changed it up completely. Sort of. Alberta Hunter is a good transition because she was there in the 20s, singing that sort of old school blues, so her delivery is just right – a mix of extremely dirty and sly humour. But this is a hi-fi song with a bit of a grooving feel. It also feels like the song wants you to move around the floor. Which is appropriate, considering it’s about the Amtrak rail. But that’s a contrast to the previous few songs, which make me feel like standing on the spot working some action.

Amtrak Blues is about a woman whose man has left her, and who’s feeling really bad….mostly:

Some body come here and help me
help me, cause the man I love is gone,
Some body come here and help me
help me, cause the man I love is gone,
I’m so confused and worried,
I can hardly carry on.

Trouble and dark days,
Can’t last always,
So I’ll keep on strugglin’,
I know I’ll see brighter days
(aside: please help me, somebody! Help me!)

My two sisters told me
other people tried to tell me too
(oh lord, yes)
I said my sisters told me

Oh, they said
You don’t change your way of living,
that very man’s gonna be the death of you.

I know he’s ornery, he’s selfish
He’s the type of man that just don’t care,
I know he’s ornery, he’s selfish
he’s the type of man that just don’t care
oh, he’d pawn the holy bible, just to get his Amtrak fare,

I love him, yes I love him
Oh I love him, and I don’t mind dying
I love him, yes I love him
love him, and I don’t mind dying,

I ever run across him,
Gonna crack his head and drink his blood like wine

In typical Hunter style, if she ends up finding the man who’s left her, she’ll have her revenge. The song is really good because Hunter adds lots of ‘help me, help me’, and ‘oh lord, lord, help me!’ so you really feel her suffering. The tension builds, until the final line, which is perhaps doubt a Hunter addition. But the musical tone is a bit higher energy – this isn’t a slow, dragging dirge. We feel her suffering, but then the final line tips it all on its head, and we realise it was actually a song about how horrid he is, so that we feel for her, and when, in the final, climactic moment, she declares she’ll break his head and drink his blood like wine, we want to yell out “YES!”


Back Water Blues was perhaps not quite right here. I think I was too deep in my headphones and previewing to properly judge the mood in the room. But people were into the hi-fi, the more modern sound, and they were ok with the more intense feeling of the song. This picture of Dinah Washington is perhaps the least appropriate possible for this song, but it’s a great pic…

Back Water Blues is a Bessie Smith song, about the flooding in the south, and how it affected the poor and black folk of the area. There are quite a few songs about flooding, and they really took on greater significance after Hurricane Katrina: things hadn’t changed much in a hundred years. This one really is a sad song, despairing. It’s a woman singing about the awful things that have happened to her:

When it rains five days
and the skies turn dark as night,
When it rains five days
and the skies turn dark as night,
Then trouble’s takin’ place
in the lowlands at night.

I woke up this mornin’,
can’t even get out of my door,
I woke up this mornin’,
can’t even get out of my door,
There’s been enough trouble
to make a poor girl wonder where she want to go.

Then they rowed a little boat
‘Bout five miles ‘cross the pond,
Then they rowed a little boat
‘Bout five miles ‘cross the pond,
I packed all my clothes,
throwed them in
and they rowed me along.

When it thunders and lightnin’,
and when the wind begins to blow,
When it thunders and lightnin’,
and when the wind begins to blow,
There’s thousands of people
ain’t got no place to go.

Then I went and stood upon
some high old lonesome hill,
Then I went and stood upon
some high old lonesome hill,
Then looked down on the house,
were I used to live.

Backwater blues
done call me to pack my things and go,
Backwater blues
done call me to pack my things and go,
‘Cause my house fell down
and I can’t live there no more.

Mmm, I can’t move no more
Mmm, I can’t move no more
There ain’t no place for a poor old girl to go

Then I played that neat version of Cherry Red, which I should have played after Amtrak Blues. Same ‘moving’ feeling, a little higher tempo, hi-fi. Brilliant musicians: Big Joe Turner, Walter Page, Freddie Green, Pete Johnson, etc. I like the way Turner invites his woman:

Now you can take me,
Pretty mama,
Jump me in your Hollywood bed,
And eagle rock me baby
‘Til my face turns cherry red.

The eagle rock is a dance step, but I like the way it also works as a metaphor here. And I like it that he’s inviting a woman to take him; he’s inviting a (sexually) assertive woman.

Anyway, that song went down really well.

Then I changed it up again with that version of Sweet Home Chicago, which has a nice guitar sound, and again, that walking feeling. It’s a familiar song, but not a version most people would hear. I like the way the vocals match Joe Turner’s: big, shouty, kind of intense.

By now people were kind of getting tired. So I chucked in Knock On Wood to change things up. I love early Ike and Tina Turner. Tina’s shouting matches the previous two. I could perhaps have gone with something a little less soul and a little more blues from their repertoire, but this one has the familiarity factor. It went down well, upped the energy in the room, and got all the women standing about up and dancing together.

Hound Dog. Even I’m a bit sick of this. But it’s a good transition. More shouting women. This time, a bit slower, and more in that proper blues vein.

Backlash Blues, because this is a good transition from soul to blues. It has that same walking feeling. I almost went straight to this from Knock on Wood. I think I should have. But it’s a bit lower energy than Hound Dog, so we would have dropped down too quickly. And I wanted just a bit more fun/familiar/energy stuff before I switched gears down to more intense, slower blues.

I also love this song because it’s hardcore 60s politics. I remember some guy in Melbourne once telling me that this song isn’t political at all. Dickhead. I mean, a) Nina Simone, hardcore activist, and b), the title – Backlash Blues! Here are the lyrics (which I think were co-written with Langston Hughes, or at least borrowing his lyrics):

Mr. Backlash, Mr. Backlash
Just who do think I am
You raise my taxes, freeze my wages
And send my son to Vietnam

You give me second class houses
And second class schools
Do you think that alla colored folks
Are just second class fools
Mr. Backlash, I’m gonna leave you
With the backlash blues

When I try to find a job
To earn a little cash
All you got to offer
Is your mean old white backlash
But the world is big
Big and bright and round
And it’s full of folks like me
Who are black, yellow, beige and brown
Mr. Backlash, I’m gonna leave you
With the backlash blues

Mr. Backlash, Mr. Backlash
Just what do you think I got to lose
I’m gonna leave you
With the backlash blues
You’re the one will have the blues
Not me, just wait and see


Then something new for me – Barabara Dane, singing seriously hardcore 60s politics. I LOVE her voice, and play one of her songs for lindy hoppers a lot (with Lu Watters’ Yerba Buena Jazz Band). This song from the album ‘I Hate the Capitalist System’ is a perfect transition from Backlash Blues. Almost exactly the same rhythm/beat, but a bit lighter and more humorous with some cool organ action in there. It’s a proper blues song, with serious politics, but also that 60s folk music politics. And Dane’s voice. YES. This song went down really, really well, which is very pleasing, as I like it a lot.

Then some slower, more intense Ike and Tina Turner, because I wanted to bring it down a bit again. And then I closed with Sugar Blues, which is slower, and quite intense, but a bit funny as well, so the next DJ could go anywhere, really.

Overall, it was a fun set. It’s a pleasure playing blues, because the music can be so subversive. Women singing about sex, men singing about finding assertive women attractive, labour politics, race politics, being poor, being angry, the effects of flooding on the poor…. It’s the sort of stuff that blues music does well. It’s the emotional balance to swing, which is all about partying. Blues songs are about feeling shit, and then singing a song (and telling a story) to share your feelings, garner support from your friends, and then stomp those blues til you feel better.

trollday

Thursday is, according to the word on the twitters, #trollday. I’m not really sure what that means. At first I thought it meant that we should post troll-y things on teh twitz or on our blogs or on the faceplants. In the sense that they should be deliberately inciting furious debate.

Then I thought it meant that we should be responding to troll-y posts by other people, getting full of the righteous fury. Or shouting “troll!” and pointing at said troll. This is where we all (once a-fucking-gain) shout at Andrew Bolt. Geez, am I the only one who’s had a gutful of that fuck? Surely not.

I’m not really keen on that second approach to trollday. My most successful methods for dealing with trolls in public forums has involved:

a) Posting a streaker to derail the flamefest started by a bit of trolling. I’m not sure how well-known streaking is beyond the British empire, but there’s a long tradition of streaking at major public sporting events here in Australia.

The effect of a streaker is, essentially, to stall the normal course of events. Posting a picture of a streaker in the middle of a nasty online shitstorm is a very effective tactic. It’s difficult to continue a thought when you’re looking at someone’s bits in the middle of a sports match.

b) My other method for dealing with trolls is to ignore them. I delete comments on my blog if they’re nasty. I unfollow twitterers who repeatedly say things that upset me or give me the shits. I unfriend sexist fuckwits on faceplant. Just like I hang up on prank callers and I walk away from dickheads in conversation (though I admit – I will give a dickhead a serve in a conversation. If I’m feeling my oats.)

I’ve found this approach very useful. For a while there on the Australian swing dancing discussion board I was getting some pretty nasty hate mail/private messages/etc. The moderator(s) were utterly useless on this front. So I had to deal with it myself.

You know what I did? I deleted them, I blocked them, I ignored them. Suddenly, no more harassment (sexual, verbal, you name it). And by geez did it make them crazy with the rage! But you know what? If an idiot can’t figure out why I’m cranky with their genderfail, I’m not going to buy into their attention-seeking rubbish by helping them get their learn on by responding to their inanity. That’s their issue. And there’s a pill for that.

I’ve heard some talk lately on teh twittz about ‘echo chambers’, and how not following people you disagree with (or who post opinions you disagree with) is like being in an echo chamber, where you only hear your own opinion echoing back at you.

You know what? I’m ok with that. Because it’s not like there’s a shortage of opinions with which I disagree everywhere else in the mainstream mediasphere. Or on the streets of my city. Or in the conversations of people I meet. I quite like the thought of setting up my own little counter public sphere (thanks Nancy Fraser and all the sisters who’re down with that action). I like the thought of fostering debate and discussion which is both respectful and supportive of feminism, socialism and all the other isms I dig. Because, despite the impression Paper Giants was trying to give, Ita Buttrose and mass-circulation ‘womens’ magazines do not represent me and my ideas about women and feminism*.

After all, the best response to a bit of trolling is to ignore it.

Easier said than done. I’ve had no end of trouble trying to convince people in online arguments that women have a right to, oh I don’t know, make their own decisions. Look however they please. Wear what they like. Think their own thoughts. Express those thoughts. Be treated with respect in public discourse. And do all that action on the dance floor – bring their jazz steps (or not), say no to rough or disrespectful dance partners**, actually lead rather than follow.

This has resulted in far too many late nights until I realised that there were better solutions. Yes, the ‘ignore them’ thing works online. But in the world of bodies, the best way to convince some dickhead that women can be excellent leads, is to get my arse up on the dance floor and be the best bloody lead that I can be. The best way to convince people women can DJ is to get up and DJ. And to keep doing all these things until you get good at them. Or as good as you can be. I figure, eventually, I’ll be dancing in an echo chamber – there’ll be just as many women leading as men, all around me on the dance floor. Wouldn’t that be nice?

So, on this trollday, I suggest we embrace the echo chamber, and rather than rising to the LOLBolt bait once again, we turn our attention to the interesting, clever people amongst us who do have things we should be reading or listening to.

* Right here, I have to say: if the only way you have of defining a woman’s power/lessness is through sex, sexuality and childbirth, you’re doing it wrong. Cleo, its publisher and its content do not represent my idea of woman-positive discourse.

** Here it is: if some guy has hurt you in the past or looks rough, say ‘no thank you’ if you don’t want to dance with him when he asks. Say ‘no thank you’ to dance invites from drunks at live gigs. Say ‘no thank you’ if the guy asking you has been rude or unpleasant to you in the past. Say ‘no thank you’ if you JUST DON’T WANT TO DANCE.

Jazz Appreciation Month: American Folk-Blues Festival 1962 session

linky

I know I don’t have to say it, but I will: there’s no jazz without the blues.

An extremely awesome performance by some extremely awesome blues musicians:

Helen Humes : vocal
Sonny Terry : harmonica
Brownie ‘Kazoo’ McGhee : vocal, guitar
Willie Dixon : vocal, bass
T-Bone Walker : vocal, guitar
Memphis Slim : vocal, piano
Jump Jackson : drums

I really like this clip. I might even have considered leaving my man for Willie Dixon : “you know, if it’s good to me, must be good to you.” Yowzers.
The call and response stuff within the band feels like partner dancing to me.
The bit of dancing at the end is neat, and I really like the type design (the original white stuff, not the shitty bit someone’s put over the top).

..I’ve included this clip not just because I _love_ it, but because this festival was important for bringing American blues to Europe, where it influenced people like the Stones, Eric Clapton, etc.

Jazz Appreciation Month: Billie Holiday and friends

Am I nuts? Why, yes, I probably am. Ryan Swift has drawn my attention to the fact that it’s Jazz Appreciation Month over at the Smithsonian. So I’m going to see if I can come up with a different song or artist every day of this month. I struggled with the Women’s History Month thing (though in a good way – stretch and learn!), so I might need your help. I’ll try to make it women musicians, but that might be difficult. Also, as Loggins says – “why not just list all the people who inspire you? Do they have to be all women?”

Because men can be inspiring too. :D

I’m going to start with a song I overtweet, overlink, overuse. Billie Holiday doing ‘Fine and Mellow’ with some of her friends, live on telly in 1957.

linky

Fuck that shit. I’m not wearing no fucking high heeled shoes.

[EDIT: this is a post responding to a series of arguments provoked by Sarah’s post. Some she makes herself, some have been made by other people.
EDIT no2: if you’re just new here (and I’m suddenly getting a lot of traffic), you might be interested in reading about my general philosophy of following here. Might be.]

I began to think about writing this post back when I wrote Women talking about their own bodies and how this issue was trolled or women dancers wearing high heels and talking about it. I did write something longer and with cleverer arguments. Then I just gave up. So this is shorter and blunter and proper ranty.

Now, I’m going to make this very clear, right here in the introduction. I’m playing the ball, not the woman. Sarah Breck is a great dancer, in heels, out of them or doing her own genderbending action. I don’t question her dancing ability or knowledge about dancing. And I’m not telling her she shouldn’t wear heels. But I am, sure as shit, challenging the arguments about gender norms and fashion she makes in her recent blog post. Here, I’m going to respond to Sarah Breck‘s original comment that women should wear heels while lindy hopping. She opens her post with:

Growing up in the Lindy scene I have heard so many times how women should wear heels because that’s what women are suppose to do. We are women and women wear heels. Now I loved that traditional ideal but I never could get past the FEELING that being in heels gave me. Every attempt I had made to wear heels I felt off balanced; unstable; and constricted in my movement.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I should just stop there. Because that is some crazy, fucked up shit. Women supposed to do what? Love that traditional what? Yeah, I know. But you’d be surprised by just how influential this sort of attitude is in the lindy hop world.

So here it is. I’m delivering the smack down.

1. I am suspicious of any argument that I should look like this lady to the left while doing anything. But particularly dancing.

2. I am extra suspicious of any argument that begins ‘women (not men) should do X’. I am absolutely calling bullshit on any argument that then continues ‘because they look better’. I think we owe it to ourselves to immediately question this sort of bullshit gender essentialism. My first response to any suggestion that I should do something because a) I’m a woman and b) it looks better is to do the exact opposite.

3. I’m utterly disinterested in doing something simply because it is fashionable. And dancing in heels is, first and foremost, a fashion choice – choosing to wear something to look like everyone else (or to look like the ‘cool’ people). I like jazz because it fucks up shit. So I choose not to wear heels just because everyone else is doing it. I choose to argue against wearing heels because it is suggested that they will make men (or anyone else) like you more. That shit is wrongtown.

4. As Frankie Manning said, “Get in shape to do lindy hop, don’t do lindy hop to get in shape.” The argument here is that lindy is such a demanding dance it requires a high level of fitness and muscular strength and control to perform at an advanced level (and even at a moderate level, I’d argue). So I run and cycle and swim and do strength training so that I can dance at my best.
Sarah argues that women should learn to dance in high heels by dancing in high heels. This smells a) like bullshit and b) dangerous. If a dancer (male or female) wants to dance in heels, they should first develop mad core strength, excellent glutes, badass calf muscles and so on and so on before they step into a pair of heels.

5. If someone asks you to suffer so you can look a particular way, be just like everyone else, or otherwise conform with someone else’s ideas of how to be a desirable woman, you should immediately shout NO! Because that is also wrongtown.
Wearing heeled shoes is bad for your feet, for you body and for your badassery. There is no evidence to support the argument that wearing heels is anything other than bad for you unless you are actually incredibly fit and strong and capable of holding your perfect posture in all conditions. Most dancers are a) not incredibly fit, b) actually dancing on some sort of undiagnosed or untreated injury. Wearing heels is just plain bad news.

6. And finally, an historical argument. Women lindy hoppers today should wear high heeled shoes, because that’s what women lindy hoppers wore then? Hm. I call bullshit, again.
There’s ample evidence and many photos of women dancers from the 20s, 30s and 40s wearing all sorts of shoes. There are some correlations between race, class and gender and what dancers are wearing in footage from films (ie white women dancers tend to wear heels; black women dancers who tend to be presented as ‘servant’ type characters tend not to wear heels), but these are not consistent, and this is cinema – it’s not real life. We should also be suspicious of recreating fucked up gender/class/ethnic stereotypes. This is the 21st century. Let’s make good discourse, not reproduce fucked up shit from the past.
There’s actually quite a bit of anecdotal as well as primary source evidence to support the idea that while they wore heels sometimes (especially if they were west coast white girls), many lindy hoppers didn’t wear heels while dancing badass a) because it impeded their badassery and b) they were often all about rebellion and being unconventional.

SO

Wearing heels is all about boring reproduction of boring conventional gender roles. It stops you being totally badass (ie you can’t dance hardcore or do scary aerials or otherwise rock ON). And if you’re not going to be badass – if you’re not aiming to be the best you that you can be – what’s the point?