How awesome? This awesome!
Read a little more about her here.
Check out the photos from the Life Magazine photo shoot(s) here
Edit: I’m going to try to add all the clips featuring a dancer I can find to each of these posts. Try.
“Jitterbug History” features the Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers from 2.01, and Willamae Ricker (with Al Minns) is the third couple (thanks to Bobby again for the cast list.
I’ve just hurt myself doing some dance work, so I’m going to sublimate my anxiety with some research into newspaper coverage of the Big Apple dancers’ tour to Australia in 1938/39.
Nine black American performers came to Australia (eight of whom were dancers, one of which was Whitey whatsit, their manager). The group included Frankie Manning. They were part of a revue performance – a series of acts presented in one program – called ‘Hollywood Hotel’.
Here are some interesting articles (I’ll add to this if I can be bothered):
While the theme is ‘Women in the Business of Food’ Womenshistory.com.au I’m going to see just how many brilliant women jazz dancers I can come up with. One per day. Is it possible? Will I need your help?
Josephine Baker!
linky
There’s an interesting issue of Scholar&Feminist Josephine Baker: A Century in the Spotlight.
Look, just to be clear, the posts about getting your rags, emotions, feminist rage, fucking over the patriarchy, food and badass cooking are the heart of this blog. That means that every post about DJing or dancing or any of that other ‘objective’ ‘rational’ stuff is actually a post about vaginas or fighting the power or being a badassmotherfucker crocheter.
All right?
Right.
Andy’s got a blog, and he’s posted a list of classic lindy tracks where he actually includes an 8tracks set so you can listen to them. Excellent.
Tim recently tweeted “Enough with the CJam hate”, and it’s a reasonable request/plea. This is a post about overplayed songs. Songs that are solid lindy hopping favourites, that are also really good, and really good fun for dancing. But songs that are also played so often in the lindy hopping world they’re frequently met with audible groans.
This is a list of songs that I know will work. I was at an exchange, once, following the opening DJ, a good friend who’s been DJing for years, and he played pretty much every one of these songs, plus a few others. I remember saying “But what am I going to play when I fuck up?!” He sniggered. His set went off like the proverbial amphibian. I was forced to get creative.
While these songs are favourites or even too familiar for dancers who’ve been around a few years, they’re new to new dancers. And if you’re just getting into DJing, they’re very useful additions to your collection, and well worth the investment.
I’m listing these songs by the number of plays they’ve had in my itunes collection. So this is exposing my own preponderance for leaning on what I call ‘safe’ songs.
(title – artist – bpm – year – album title – song length)
C-Jam Blues – Lincoln Centre Jazz Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis – 143 – 1999 – Live In Swing City: Swingin’ With Duke – 3:34
This is fabulous recording of a Duke Ellington standard, slowed down a little from its 1941 release tempo of about 180bpm. It’s also a live recording from a show at the Lincoln Centre, and it features Winton Marsalis. I’ve spoken to lindy hoppers who were there, and they say it was beyond amazing. This entire album is really great (check it out here on Amazon), and there are at least seven extremely awesome songs on there which make great dancing. More if you’re flexible. The band is top notch and the song selections are great for dancing. This is great, classic swinging big band jazz. Perfect for lindy hopping.
This song has been played to death. It’s been played for far too many teachers’ demonstration dances in Melbourne, and it gets pulled out every now and then on the social floor. It is good because it:
This was my favourite dance clip for a long time:
It’s Frida (yes, again) dancing with Kevin St Laurent. There is much showing off direct link).
Check out (an) original recording here in this 1942 soundie featuring Ellington himself.
Main Stem – Duke Ellington – Never No Lament (The Blanton-Webster Band) (Disc 3) – 208 – 1941 – 2:51
This isn’t a song that I overplay, partly because it’s faster. I find that most of the most overplayed songs in Sydney and Melbourne and the large Australian events are down there in the lower tempo range. But this is an overplayed favourite that turns up quite often. Because it’s fucking GREAT. There’s a fabulous version on that LCJO album. But the best one is the Ellington 1942 one. Or the 1941 one. Depending. Don’t believe me? Here, be convinced:
That’s Laura Keat dancing with Todd Yannacone at Lindy Focus IX late 2010 in a Jack and Jill (direct link). Todd is a control freak lead, but then, he’s one lead even I’d follow very carefully, because he hears amazing things in the music and really shows you all those things. Laura – in excellent Laura form – pushes him juuuuust a little. I think this dramatic tension (not actual tension) adds to the excitement of this performance, with a song that kind of builds and builds and builds and builds until you think you’re going to explode.
So, Main Stem is an overplayed favourite. But should you DJ it? Of course.
Ok, so I’m guessing you’re figuring out that youtube plays a pretty big role in determining the popularity and overplayedness of a particular song? Yes. Just like music videos promoting a modern band’s latest release, a video of a good dance performance by popular dancers pimps the hell out of a good song.
A Viper’s Moan – Willie Bryant and his Orchestra (Teddy Wilson, Cozy Cole) -153 – 1935 – 3:26 – Willie Bryant 1935-1936
Strangely, I don’t have a video of people dancing for this one. But I do have a a link to the song on youtube.
Again, this song is overplayed, and for good reason. There’s a version by Mora’s Modern Rhythmists, which also gets overplayed. I used that version to introduce people in Melbourne to the song, then when I had them hooked on the badarseness of it, I switched to the Willie Bryant version. It is beyond good. These days I play it when I want to build energy in the room. It always works.
Solid as a Rock – Count Basie and his Orchestra with The Deep River Boys – 1940s – 140 – 1950 – 3:04 – Count Basie and His Orchestra 1950-1951
There’s another version of this getting about with Ella doing vocals, but I don’t like it. This version has pretty much everything to guarantee its popularity:
To be honest, this is a song I like to rest as often as I can. I find it a bit tedious, mostly because it’s a bit boring. It’s not complicated enough to keep me interested. I also get a bit over the brass instruments and I think it could be a bit more exciting and have higher energy. But geez, it’s a popular song. I feel like a sellout when I play it, but it’s a guaranteed safety song.
Apollo Jump – Lucky Millinder and his Orchestra – 143 – 1943 – 3:27 – Apollo Jump
Another overplayed song in the friendly tempo range. This one was massively popular in Melbourne for a very long time. It has all the hallmarks of a winner:
It’s lots of fun to dance to. I have, however, seen it crash and burn on occasion. I’ve found it can come in a bit hardcore for people who are more rock and roll than lindy hop, and I’m often in the position where I have to play for both. Regardless, this is a good one have in your collection, if only because Lucky Millinder was in the Mills Blue Rhythm Band (arranging, I think, though I need to double check that), and the MBRB are fricking ace. The Lucky Millinder orchestra, doing this sort of song, is a lot more mainstream/accessible for your average lindy hopper today. Sister Rosetta Tharpe did some fucking great songs with this band, including Shout Sister Shout which is another of those overplayed winners.
Listen to Apollo Jump on youtube here.
For Dancers Only – Jimmie Lunceford and his Orchestra – 148 – 1937 – 2:41 – Swingsation – Jimmie Lunceford
Boy, is this one overplayed. I remember when Melbourne started discovering Jimmie Lunceford. Those were happy days. But this song does get overplayed. Again, it’s a big band playing classic swinging jazz in a moderate tempo with lots of energy. It’s a GREAT song. But I am very tired of it. I know this particular recording far too well to really enjoy it much any more. But again, it’s a song that will save you in a pinch. And it’s new to new dancers.
I had intended to continue with this post, but I’m finding it really dull. Overdone. Overcooked. Overplayed. But I think my main point is: often the overplayed songs are overplayed because they are really good. And they’re a good place for a new DJ to begin, giving you an idea of what will work with dancers. They’re also very good songs for dancers to have in their collection, because they’re lots of fun. I also find these sorts of songs a good place to begin when I want to expand my musical knowledge. Who’s in the band? Why is it such a good song? Who’s the arranger? Why is a live recording so powerful?
I’m sure the rest of you can come up with a list of other great, overplayed songs. :D
It’s funny how when people get older their muscles seems to disappear. So when you hug them, you can feel their bones through their flesh, and the flesh is softer than it was before. Like their bodies have given up on muscle and started concentrating on other things. And their skin has gotten soft, soft like thin, perfectly kneaded out dough.
But when you’re just new, when you’re a baby, you don’t have muscle either. You’re just flesh and new. And then you learn how to use your muscles, and suddenly you’re learning how to sit up or to roll over. Things that are really complicated and take months to learn how to do if you’ve had an accident or been injured. But when you’re a baby, and your muscles and body are just new, you learn how to do these things, each new thing, every week. Just by doing.
When you’re in the middle of your life, or later on, it’s difficult to learn new ways of using your muscles. Especially if you’ve never used them in a mindful way. That means that you really only use the muscles in your arms or your legs or your body to carry yourself around. You don’t stop and think about how you lift yourself up onto your feet, or how you bend to pick something up from the floor. When you use your muscles mindfully – when you understand how to lift your arm up over your head in the most economical way, not also lifting your shoulder or dropping your opposite hip – you are more in your body. You’re not thinking your way through the movement, you are in the movement, with each muscle group as it engages and releases.
When I am caught up in being anxious, I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop and make myself be right there in whatever it is I’m doing. I eventually end up trying to slow my brain down with repetitive, mindless movement. I do mindless things, repetitive things, over and over and over. Pegging out laundry. Folding sheets.
Sometimes I try to haul myself out of the rushing thoughts – all that anxiety – by doing something with just a little complexity. Crocheting the same basic stitches, around and around in a pattern that requires just enough thinking to keep me interested, but doesn’t let me get caught up in worry-thoughts. Or I sew. I make garments that are just complicated enough to make me concentrate. And the process requires careful planning – find the fabric, preshrink the fabric, cut out the pattern, mark the notches, pin it, stitch it, press it, stitch it, alter it. I listen to the radio with talking to take up any spare thinking. Each step slows me down, makes me pay attention, concentrate on what’s happening right then.
But nothing really helps me stop all that worrying like really pushing my body, physically, to the point where I’m too tired or adrenaline charged to think. And I have to really be there instead, making my legs lift and pound down, or my arms pull through the water. After that, I’m so tired I can’t worry. And after a few days of this, I’m calmed down again, and I’m not worrying. I’m really in my body again, and not cut off, rushed off in anxiety. I feel calmer, and happier, and I can enjoy the running or swimming or training in a more present way, that makes it easier for me to engage with the people and things around me.
Sometimes I worry that this obsessive exercising is unhealthy. But then, I think, other people have used simple, repetitive exercise – mindful movement for centuries, forever as a way of being calm. Of being present. It’s not really a surprise that repetitive movements, strengthening muscles and breathe, gaining understanding of how our bodies work is a key part of spiritual and religious experience as well as martial arts.
It’s not at all spiritual for me. These sorts of things are talked about in yoga, and I find it uncomfortably hippy or mystical. But the same discipline – being present – is central to learning to dance or performing an exercise prescribed by a physiotherapist. You cannot make a dance step really work until you have tried it a hundred different ways, both right and wrong. And understood the difference. Strengthening an injured muscle requires constant, repetitive and yet also mindfully correct and aware repetition.
Being in your body – being present and moving mindfully – is about paying attention. It’s about stopping up all the runaway thoughts about what you’ll be doing later or what you think you should be worrying about. When you move mindfully, or more importantly, when you prepare to move, you are right there in your body at that moment. You are drawing your attention to the muscles you need for the task at hand. And you’re letting the others rest or lie ready for the next task.
Following is about always being read to move, moving mindfully and always being in your body, in the movement, with the rest of your brain at rest, not thinking or worrying or rushing ahead. Following is about turning off muscles, letting them sink back to waiting or readiness, without tightening and working too soon or in the wrong way. Both following and leading are about turning off thinking, and about sinking into your body in a conscious, aware way. It’s not mindless exercise; it’s mindful movement.
This makes me wonder how it is when people do get older. And they’ve spent their life in mindful movement. When the muscles slowly shift from being active and present, to something else or not there at all. What is it like to try to engage them? Does making the movement become completely absorbing? I have heard that if you spend time working your muscles when you’re younger, you maintain better muscle tone when you’re older. This makes sense to me. And the idea of gradually losing that sense of embodied self is a little too frightening.
Despite my better instincts, I’m going to do another post about ‘assessing quality’ in music.
I did the first one under the title Assessing quality in music for DJing part 1: the good song and that was such a long, tedious post even I can’t bear to re-read it.
With that post I’d intended to kick off a series of three addressing three points:
I can’t quite bring myself to write two more posts. So I’m going to squash it all together and write just one. I’m trying to write more concisely, mostly because it’s good craftswomanship. Also because who the fuck wants to read a long long dull post that’s poorly written?
When I first listen to new music, I assess it in a few ways. I’m usually thinking of playing this music for dancers, or I’m thinking of this as music-for-dancing. So I don’t have all these thoughts about the latest Uncle Earl album. Music for DJing – for my type of DJing – needs to do a few things:
I’ll address the last point here. Mastering and recording.
I don’t know much about this stuff, and I’m usually just going by my own ear. Which is a bit of a problem as my hearing is steadily degrading. So I’m going to talk about this issue using my own words and the way I think about the topic. I don’t have the language or knowledge to talk about it any other way. So please be warned: this could be a heap of bullshit.
Recording
Firstly, recording technology and reproduction of music media has changed steadily since the 1920s. I start with the 20s because that’s really where my interest begins.
(Image stoled from here where they write “The Columbia Orchestra in Columbia’s New York studio. Date is unknown, but the conductor is not Charles Prince, probably dating this photo to some time after his departure in 1921”. Image is originally from the Library of Congress).
Things about early recordings:
Here’s a fun little video about making records in 1937:
(Direct link here).
All this means that when you listen to an early recording in particular, you hear a very well rehearsed performance (if these guys were professionals). You don’t get stereo. You often hear instruments in a frustratingly flat way – trebles are often too shrill, mids are muddy. You might be listening to the product of cutting edge technology of that time, but it will not compare to today’s technology.
Remastering
Many cheap CD versions of old recordings (ie from the 20s and 30s) are simply recordings of a record being played, often presented as poopy quality digital files. This means that you not only get the mess of an old recording, you also get the staticy, crackly, scratchy mess of a record and a shithouse digital file.
It’s better if a CD or digital version is taken from a master take – the original ‘master’ recording from which copies are made. It’s even better if that master has been carefully restored. Jazz nerds can crap on and on about remastering ad naaaauseum. Mosaic records have a nice example of that here.
As a DJ, I might purchase a cheaper version of a song (usually by digital download) with dodgy recording quality if I don’t have access to previewing. I might risk it on a new artist if I just want to hear what they did. But these days I tend to have a more general idea of what’s about – I don’t need to take a punt on Ellington; I know what he did. So I don’t often buy those very cheap, bottom end CDs with shitty quality digital files. In fact, I’m now regularly going back through my collection to replace shitty quality files.
So when I look for ‘sound quality’ in digital files, I want:
‘Quality’ in context
If I’m just listening to a song at home, I can hack poor quality recording and limited remastering (if they’ve done as much as they can). But when I DJ, I need more. Because DJing never ever happens on the perfect sound system. There are always challenges: room size and shape, sound equipment, crowd size (a large crowd absorbs sound and reduces echoes).
But each room and each sound system is different. So a song I mightn’t risk at one venue, I will play at another because it will sound fine. My very best DJing experience was at the Famous Spiegeltent, where I could play anything I wanted and it sounded great. That sound guy had mad skills – he perfectly balanced the oldest, scratchiest songs. Unlike other sound guys I’ve worked with. There’s one here in Sydney who tends to up the bass because (and I quote) “it gets them up and dancing.” I’m quite capable of getting them up dancing myself, thanks buddy. In his case I always try to do a thorough run through of all the types of songs I might play (30s small band, 30s big band, 50s hi fi big and small bands, contemporary small and big bands) just so he understands the difference, and so I can hear him balance each song.
‘Quality’ and the dancers
When I first began DJing in Melbourne in 2006 there was a marked resistance to ‘old scratchy’ songs at the main social dancing venue. The music at this event was usually a combination of neo, supergroove and shithouse modern reworkings of swing songs (crooners, mostly) by people like Michael Buble and that actor guy. It was utter rubbish. I still can’t listen to Van Morrison without feeling a bit nauseous. There were one or two (literally – one or two) DJs who played other things. But they were, for the most part, finding it a bit of an uphill battle.
So I couldn’t just come in with a set of solid, big band classic swing from the 30s and 40s. Not only was the style unfamiliar for most dancers (argh), but the quality was challenging. I solved the problem by playing a mix of musical ‘qualities’ – moving from hi fi to lo fi and back again – and a range of musical styles. I am forever indebted to bands like the Campus Five for their excellent reworkings of classic swinging jazz.
I could have just played what I wanted. But that would have alienated the dancers, shat off the event organisers and generally done terrible things for my DJing reputation, ensuring no more sets for me. Ever. So I was sneaky instead.
Today, six years later, music in Australia has really changed. Most scenes see a lot of classic swing, in fact, the ‘chic’ music is more pared-down NOLA or hot jazz combos. Every now and then I get a ‘why can’t you play some RCR/Buble/whatevs’ and I have to stifle irrational rage. Eight years of dancing to that rubbish before DJing has fostered a deep and abiding hatred for dancing to it.
But when I do a set, I still pay attention to the dancers. I find that a set of solidly lofi stuff in a mixed room can be a bit challenging. It does sound dynamically a bit flat if you’re used to modern bands and hifi recordings. So I will drop in something hifi every now and then to change things up a bit. It’s a very useful tool – a bit of hifi to shift the mood. But I still won’t play neo/crooner/rubbish.
I have also heard the argument that new dancers find it difficult to ‘find the beat’ in older lofi music. I think this is partly bullshit. Old school swing often has solid, driving rhythm that’s impossible to miss. But the band as a whole swings, and this is more challenging for dancers who’re familiar with neo or modern music which might accent the back beat or not swing at all. If a DJ only uses poor quality lofi recordings, then they are going to be difficult to dance to. But that’s the DJ’s problem, not the actual song’s.
Summing up…
So, in summary, once again, this is a fairly in-depth issue, one I’m not really able to address concisely as there are so many factors at play, most determined by my own personal ideas and preferences for DJing and dancing.
But I will say, clearly, that a DJ who’s playing for lindy hop should definitely and without a doubt have a thorough understanding of classic swing. Swing music from the 30s and 40s. Because that’s when this dance really got cooking. And also when the musicians were fucking HOT.
If I’m preaching, I’d say that DJs should have a solid collection of this stuff as well – they should DJ it and listen to it regularly. Keen lindy hoppers should do likewise, simply to better understand the musical structures and rhythms that developed with lindy hop. You can’t know lindy hop without knowing the music it was danced to in The Day. Modern bands are great, but they’re recreating music of a particular style and period. And you’re doing yourself a massive favour by checking out the Original And Best.
Having said that, I am eternally grateful for modern bands creating classic swing and other hot jazz styles. These guys are so useful in a set, and they’re the guys we dance to when we go to see live bands. And at the end of the day, live music is the reason for dancing.
The question should not be ‘should a follow compromise their improvisation to ‘follow properly’?’ but ‘how can each partner improve their fitness, posture, physical awareness and communication skills to best contribute to a dance with their partner?’
It seems a perennial issue in contemporary lindy hop. And one almost as stupid as the idea that we are in terrible danger of losing ‘female skills’ (to which Melissa responds with satisfying narkiness). I think it’s fairly fucked that ‘good following’ should necessarily involve or imply all those ‘female skills’ that patriarchy values: submission, temerity, passivity, following, suppression of creativity or difference, docility.
I think the idea that a female follower (and I am talking about women, because most followers in Australia are female) should somehow moderate her creative self expression by ‘just following’ a leader is utter rot. I am even infuriated by the suggestion that a follower should be asked to ‘change’ her dancing to suit a leader’s leading. To my mind, skilled following is demonstrated by consistent, practiced and thorough dancing. Where the follow takes to every dance and every partner the same good, sound posture, good, active core and other muscles, a lack of unnecessary muscle tension, nice, clear weight changes and a nice bounce (or pulse) which she may choose to moderate to suit her leader’s.
Much more importantly, a good leader should be continually adjusting their leading – the moves they select, they way they change their weight, the way they make the music visible – to suit the follower. This is how I try to lead. I feel that because I have the power to choose the moves, I owe it to the follower to accommodate her abilities, interests and mood. This is what I owe her.
I am enraged by the fact that many extremely awesome women – who are also followers – question their abilities and judgements about dancing and movement because of misinformed notions of ‘good dancing’ dominating their scene’s discourse. Simply put, most followers are far beyond most leads with comparative experience in their scene, in terms of dancing ability, understanding of the lead-follow dynamic and even comprehension of musical and movement structures. This is a provocative statement, and one I will stand by.
There is almost always a shortage of men of a higher dancing ability in a scene, and there is often a sense of competition between women dancers for the attentions of male partners. On the social and competitive dance floor. This competition is seldom articulated, is demonstrated more through the oblique social manoeuverings that characterise women’s power dynamics more generally, and to speak about these issues at all is to jeopardise your future possible partnerships. Or to at least believe that commenting upon this status-driven and deriving state of affairs will affect your desirability as a partner.
Again, bluntly put, women lindy hoppers have been convinced that the uppity woman will be punished. The uppity follower will be dismissed as a ‘poor follow’ and ‘miss out’ on dancing with the ‘good leads’. Who usually represent their scene’s dominant notion of ‘preferred’ masculinity/leading rather than actual, solidly capable leading and dancing. The uppity follower, I’d argue, will suffer the consequences of a heteronormative, patriarchal culture.
What to do, then, when a male dancer – or a female dancer – suggests to a woman follower that she ‘ease off’ in her improvisation or moving in any way other than as ‘led’ by her partner (or as her partner would like to have led)?
Let’s consult the best follower in lindy hop today, and perhaps the best dancer in lindy hop today. Frida Segerdahl.
(Direct link or the same performance from another angle and camera.)
This is a jack and jill competition, where dancers are partnered randomly, and with people who aren’t their usual partners. They might never have danced together before.
Here Frida dances with a lead who is not in any way near her ability (though not to disparage his skills. He has them. Though his are not as many nor as good as Frida’s). Frida follows Mikey almost perfectly. She does exactly as he leads. She even amends her lovely delayed swinging timing to suit his more abruptly on-the-beat rhythms. She holds when he holds. She changes her weight as he does. She spins faster than should be humanly possible. And yet she also finds time, in what is a fairly rushed and crowded lead, to bring the extremely good shit.
How? How does Frida both decorate and develop Mikey’s led moves, without ‘failing to follow’?
Now I will look at one clip I chose at random from a youtube search for ‘frida segardahl’.
At 0.11 she adds some shoulder movements that do not impair or affect Mikey’s led movements. They do not ‘interrupt’ his lead. But they are not movements that he has led. They are, in fact, adding a level of musicality to his fairly simple leading.
This is a very simple example of a follow ‘not doing as she is led’. Here we see Frida’s sense of humour in a few small movements, and we see her personality. He ‘hears’ her movement with his body, he almost seems to follow her, but I suspect he’s too frightened to actually join in. She almost relaxes him with this, but he can’t quite relax enough to respond.
At 0.15 she adds a little difference to the timing of his led movement. Just a little. Just a little syncopation. It is perfectly suited to the music – this is the end of the phrase, and more importantly, the end of the introductory section of a New Orleans revivalist type song. This is when the musicians often improvise. Her movements make his simple step interesting, and her subsequent exact matching of his timing complement his steps demonstrating that she is listening to him. Even her more definite commitment of weight and clear weight changes – which are beyond his – are a way of acknowledging his lead and yet also adding more.
A lead with little understanding of the music or of dancing would see this as an unacceptable deviation from his lead. He might be embarassed that ‘his’ steps weren’t more perfectly performed as led.
By 0.22 Mikey’s grin suggests that he has realised that this might be excellent fun. That Frida is with him, 100%, following, and that he can trust her to follow. But that she is also prepared to and able to add a little to embellish his leading.
At 0.30 Frida adds a bounce and slightly different timing to her rock step. This is not quite as Mikey leads. But it is technically very exciting because it adds excitement to her dancing, a boost of energy to get her through his very tight and quick leading, and a little flair that does not interfere with his lead.
At 0.39 Frida adds a wide-legged leap into the air behind Mikey’s back which he hasn’t (intentionally led). Yet she marks the end of the phrase, hits the cymbal in the music – a higher, sharp note – with a higher, sharper movement. This is a lovely moment, because here Mikey repeats his earlier ‘swivel’ or ‘twist’ from the end of the first section, as the music repeats that particular combination of notes and rhythms. Frida’s addition is an improvisation in a musical sense, adding in and contrasting as a wind or brass instrument would do in that section of a New Orleans type arrangement. She adds rhythmic complexity and levels, but also adds visual levels and complexity.
To do this requires extensive skill, musical knowledge and timing. To do this behind a leader’s back is a ‘risk’. Many leads really, really dislike this type of improvisation. But Frida does ‘face saving’ work – she doesn’t embaress him by teasing him or ‘screwing up’. She is not actually led into this move; she adds it, slotting it into the connection without disturbing it.
I think, though, that Mikey’s high arm hold is perhaps too high to really convince Frida that she should come ‘down’ with him. His high, tenser arm suggests a higher movement. I am certain this is not intentional. But Frida has taken a look and a feel and made something of it.
At 0.50 there is an awkward moment where Mikey does not lead clearly and Frida has to hunt a little for the lead. But she makes it ‘work’ by aproximating his movements based on what she sees him do when what she feels is not clear. She is not doing exactly as ‘led’, but she is doing as a decent person and a decent partner would – she makes it ‘work’, saves face for Mikey and adds a little musical flavour that almost suggests it was deliberate on his part.
At 0.54 she adds slightly more lift to her step, raising her shoulders and bending her leg, lifting it up a little higher than Mikey actually leads. This matches the music so perfectly you’d swear she knew the music intimately. But she might or she mightn’t. She is just that good a dancer.
She then balances this ‘up’ with a gorgeously low, angled knee at 0.55. Again, he hasn’t explicitly led this. He’s led her down, but she has angled her knee just so, and balanced her earlier ‘up’ movements with a ‘down’ composed of similar angles. She makes a fairly ordinary sugar push into something musically and technically interesting and balanced.
She is not following exactly as she is led. She is bringing her personality to this dance. She is improvising. She is also doing things that require a phenomenal degree of fitness and bodily control, as well as musical knowledge and social nous to preserve the partnership. All within a fairly tight, restrictive, very ‘led’ connection.
This type of ‘following’ continues, until at 1.24 we see something really nice. They hold still for a few moments, and he allows his personality to seep out – a point to her feet to acknowledge her skills (and hip bounce), and then he swipes his hair back, a signifier of cool masculinity, matching and complementing her bravado and also her feminised hip movements. This is the sort of moment that lindy hop does best.
It’s also a phrase or so before the mood of the song changes. It’s a climactic moment, musically, and a climactic moment in their partnership as he openly acknowledges her work and she openly, clearly waits to follow exactly when and how he’ll lead them both out of the pose.
The following few bars she follows precisely, with little addition, demonstrating that she really is with him, following exactly what he’s leading. This at once demonstrates her following skills, and also her acknowledgement of his leading ability and status as lead. The excellent follower understands that improvisation is really only improvisation and not chaos when it returns to the ‘order’ of the lead-follow partnership. It is a mark of humility on her part, and it also serves to save face for him.
Here, I argue, is evidence that a follower – a woman – should never, ever, EVER suppress her personality while dancing, she should NEVER, ever, ever ‘just follow’, perfectly.
It also demonstrates that brilliant dance skills – posture, fitness, muscular control and awareness, musical knowledge and intuitiveness – makes this dancing possible. In fact, the addition of self, the creative contribution to the dance is the mark of a most advanced follower.
And the willingness to accept this and work with this is the mark of a most advanced lead.
NB: When I DJ, I don’t think about all this shit. I just do it.
A little while ago someone on teh twittz was talking about song quality, and I didn’t quite get the chance to write about it then. But I’d like to now, because it’s interesting. It’s also a massively controversial topic, or at least a topic that every single DJ and every single dancer has an opinion about. If you’ve ever been with a group of dancers trying to decide where to go and eat, you’ll understand…
I had intended to cover all aspects of this topic in one post, but I’m rubbish at doing things succinctly. So I’m going to have to do it in parts. I’m not sure I’ll get to them all, but I’d like to talk about song quality in terms of :
I’m going to talk about first one here in this post, because it’s the biggest one, and it’s the most controversial and also the most subjective. I talk about the second one in the post Assessing ‘quality’ in music for DJing part 2: scratchy.
Firstly, a sort of get-out clause: when I say ‘quality’, I’m usually using the term fairly loosely, and with plenty of provisions. It’s quite a subjective word, and is used in lots of different ways by lots of different dancers and DJs. I use it in different ways myself.
I’m going to talk about how I think about quality of a particular song in terms of DJing for dancers live, while you’re there with them on the dance floor. Not DJing over the radio or by other broadcast. I also want to note that when I’m just sitting around the house listening to the stereo or playing songs on my ipod, the ‘quality’ of the song isn’t at all important.
When I first add a song to my laptop’s music library, I consider a few key elements when I’m assessing ‘quality’. The most important one is Is it ‘good for dancing?’
Most importantly, the song must make me want to dance. Not every song I love makes me want to dance. This usually means that they don’t swing (in a rhythmic sense). Or that they’re not a style appropriate for dancing.
I love 50s southern gospel, but it’s often not great for dancing, particularly if it is intended as religious or sacred music. I have a category in my music library called ‘kissing songs’, which are songs that are between about 90 and 120bpm, often have vocals, have quite romantic lyrics, can be very beautiful, wonderful songs, but do not make me want to dance. Unless that dance is with The Squeeze and we literally have our cheeks squeezed together while we cuddle. I don’t DJs those songs for dancers. There was discussion on SwingDJs recently about ‘beautiful swing ballads for dancing’ which I read as a discussion about these ‘kissing songs’ which has made me rethink my position. A little bit.
I think this definition of quality is perhaps the most personal or specific to each DJ. We each have different ideas of what constitutes ‘good dancing’, and a large part of this definition is determined by our own experiences as dancers. So our own individual ideas of what constitutes a ‘good dance’ or ‘fun’ or whatever it is we look for in a dance, as dancers shapes the way we assess a song as a DJ.
I also feel that this is why it’s really important to dance as much as you can when you start DJing. But also to continue to dance as much as you can once you’ve been DJing for a while. That last one can be tricky, as sitting on your clack DJing makes it a little difficult to dance.
Not only will you see musical trends in the contemporary scene come and go, but your understanding of music as a dancer will change as your dancing changes, and as you experience dancing to more DJs and bands and with more and more people. Your experience of different dances and dance traditions will also shape your experiences of music on the dance floor. I do feel (and this is a fairly contentious point, and one I almost hesitate to write) that a very new lindy hopper – someone with only one or two years dancing – really isn’t going to do the best job as a DJ. They simply haven’t experienced the rhythms and structures of swing music in their bodies, as a jazz dancer. So they don’t really understand why a particular song might be a bit shit for dancing.
The follow up point to this is, of course, that there is no point at which you can say – as a dancer and as a DJ – that you have ‘learnt everything’ or ‘know everything you need to know’ about music. Most of us dancing lindy hop today do not come from a culture where dance is a part of everyday life. I don’t mean something that you do ‘every day’ in a distinct block of time, but something that permeates your everyday life – from skipping rope as a child to singing in church telling stories in a particular way.
This means that most of us will never quite catch up, musically. DJs and dancers should be always looking for the next learning experience, and always open to new things. As The Squeeze says, “Don’t deny knowledge!”
This is why I’m always very sceptical of dancers who think they’re too good or know too much to attend a particular dance class, or who think they’re too good a dancer to participate in a level assessment exercise at a dance camp. Not only is it an arrogant declaration (which everyone present sees) that they are ‘the best’ and ‘know everything’, but it’s also declaring that ‘learning is done’, or that that person can only learn in particular circumstances, which they control.
I feel that even the most poorly taught dance class teaches you something. Not just how not to teach, but also real things about movement and dance. About understanding how your body works, and how variety and difference in types of movement affect dance.
As an example, I’ve always liked dance classes where you rotate partners because you can guarantee you’ll feel one version of the move that’s ‘wrong’ and that you can’t really recognise ‘right’ until you know what ‘wrong’ feels like. Dancing only with one or two other people in a learning environment (which can include the social dance floor as well as a class) will limit your understanding of how a movement works or feels.
I guess I can sum all that up by saying that my assessment of a song which is ‘good for dancing’ is the product of my experiences as a dancer. I am not trying to make authoritative rules about what constitutes a ‘good song’.
When I’m listening to new music, I look for these things in the song itself (ie not the recording quality or digital sound file quality, but the actual song):
If I can find the beat quickly and easily, if it makes me want to tap my feet, if it makes it difficult to sit still, if I find myself imagining moving to the song, if I have that intensifying of emotion that is a bit like the music has gotten into my body and made me feel its rhythms emotionally, then it’s a good song.
This is one of those things that makes it useful to have a wider range of dancing experience. I have to be able to imagine dancers making use of what they hear in the song. Do the rhythms and timing and structure match up with how we move in lindy hop or balboa or blues or whatevs? Is it complex enough to keep more experienced dancers interested? Is it simple enough to make it easier for new dancers to join in?
One song mightn’t contain both these qualities, but it should have something that makes it possible for me to imagine people dancing to it.
This is a problematic definition. Because, of course, it depends on my own experience of other dancers. Who have I seen dance? Do I have the experience to understand what I’m seeing?
As an aside, in a recent conversation with a friend I noted that there are some dancers who are so technically and rhythmically (and so on) beyond me, that I can’t see where there weaknesses are. So I can’t look at Frida Segardahl’s dancing and see the errors in her dancing that are beyond my own ability. I can only assess her dancing by what I know about dancing. Which of course means that I’m going to fall very short of really understanding what she’s doing. I’m probably going to be full of wrong.
So when I choose songs that are suitable for more experienced dancers, I’m really only working from my experiences. As a DJ, you do get to know music and begin to understand what you see on a dance floor in a way you don’t if you’re just dancing, but I feel it as a definite limitation in my DJing. If I were a better dancer, I could be a better DJ.
But let me be clear. I do not want to suggest that a terrible DJ is a terrible dancer. There are plenty of really awful DJs who are fabulous dancers, for all sorts of reasons. There are plenty of excellent DJs who are ordinary dancers. And of course excellent DJs who are also excellent dancers. I do, however, want to retain the idea that a DJ must have some level of dancing proficiency to really do a good DJing job. And that the more dancing experience and skill a DJ has, the more useful this will be in DJing.
Hmm… as I write this, I’m finding it difficult to really figure out where I stand. So I’ll just say: my DJing gets shit when I don’t dance much; the more dancing I do, the dances I learn, the better my DJing becomes; the best thing I can do for my DJing is to pay really close attention to the dancers on the dance floor while I’m DJing, and to understand how what I see might feel if I was dancing.
Basically, are the musicians skilled? Is the arrangement pretty good? Is the band actually working together as a team? These are the sorts of questions that have led to my preferring older bands to new. I know it’s a stupid old fuddy duddy point, but I do feel that the old school doods were better than most modern day musicians. Not all of them. There were some real duds getting about then. And there are some fabulous musicians around today. But the day to day realities of living in the 1930s and being a professional musician were quite different.
Having said that about technical ability, I will overlook some technical weaknesses if a song or a musician has a little something that overcomes their limitations. So I really like the Midnight Serenaders, even though there are some problems with their songs. But there’s something about the bouncing lightness of their delivery that makes me feel bouncy and light inside. The female vocalist isn’t really all that amazing, but she has a confidence and musical relationship with the rest of the band that I really like.
I really like the Firecracker Jazz Band, even though they can be a bit rough and ready round the edges. They really feel like a bunch of firecrackers, all up in your face. Their songs are energetic, exciting, and each musician really feels as though they’re bringing everything. I don’t know I can know these things, or where I get this feeling from. It could be the way a guitarist touches and releases the strings, or the way a trumpeter sustains a note without the slightest tremor – or adds a quivering tremor to heighten emotion.
Again, these are all quite subjective readings of the band and the recording. They probably tell you more about me than about them. I guess this is why DJs develop a particular style, that you can pick from a mile off. I tend to favour high energy songs – songs that really kick me in the guts. This is because I’m DJing for lindy hoppers most of the time, and my favourite type of lindy hop has lots of energy and fun. I find it really difficult to adjust my sets to include less upenergy songs, even though I have masses of them in my collection. I like a sense of humour, I like a song (and a dance) to have a joke at the ready, a bit of sarcasm and irreverence.
My favourite sets are to loud, shouting rooms full of adrenaline-crazed fools. I wonder if it’s because DJing is a bit like getting a bit emotional hit yourself. You sort of feed on or absorb what the dancers give off. When you stand in a room full of dancers, if you’re engaged with what they’re feeling, you feel that way too. It’s just how crowds work. So perhaps I DJ this way because I want to feel that way? Who knows. And I’m not sure I want to think about that :D
All this assessment of songs when I first buy them or add them to my collection is really just a preparatory step. I have so many zillions of songs, I really have to sort them in some way before I begin DJing. Not all DJs do this. But I don’t listen to music often enough when I’m not DJing to keep all the relevant information in my head.
I do have some fundamental facts glued into my brain: I know what to expect of Count Basie’s big band in 1939. Or of Benny Goodman’s sextet in 1939. And so on. I also have an idea of how a song will work because I’ve played it for dancers before in lots of different circumstances. Or because I’ve DJed similar songs before, or seen how a particular type of room responds to certain songs in other circumstances.
But I like to sort my music a bit before I DJ, so that I don’t have to clutter my brain with yet another shitty version of Honeysuckle Rose. And as I collect more and more music, I like to be able to get rid of lower quality recordings or remasterings of familiar songs. Or to make sensible decisions when purchasing new versions of songs.
So, to sum up, assessing the ‘good’ of a song is entirely subjective. This is why when I’m booking DJs for gigs, I don’t bother to think about whether they play songs that I would consider ‘good’. I look for DJs who can work the crowd, filling the dance floor and making them crazy. I look for DJs who are professional and easy to work with. And I do look for DJs who use sound files of a high quality and understand the importance of a good quality recording. Or of juggling sound equipment and the acoustics and mood of a room to make lower quality recordings work.
At the end of the day, a good DJ has a playlist full of good songs. But a brilliant DJ makes a crowd crazy with the way they observe the crowd.