The doc suggested I try some decongestants to help my inner ears clear up (they regularly fill up with goo after I get heinous cold). So we went old school and now I’m taking Sudafed during the day. I can’t take it at night.
Basically, it’s turned me into a speedfreak. I’m trembling, I feel like I’m just about to deliver a lecture all the time and I have a few anxiety issues. Well, not real ones (I’m actually feeling pretty mellow), but I’m trembling, my heart is thumping and… well, my nose is running.
The most interesting part of all this? I can breathe through both nostrils, no wucks. I hadn’t realised til yesterday that I haven’t been able to breathe freely through both nostrils with my mouth closed in years. It’s a bit weird. I can’t help but wonder how this will help my dancing. Will I become an oxygen-rich bio-machine? Will I run faster, jump higher? And then crash, as my system compensates for this excessive performance, systems going into fuckdown mode, body eating its own muscles to replace the energy used in brief bursts of supersonic, arsekickingly sweet solo jazz?
Thankfully, the doc also checked my blood pressure – it’s perfect. So perfect, she commented a few times. I think that my winter-padding led her to believe I was actually At Risk. But she, of course, is unaware of the fitness-inducing effects of the cranky poo.
Also, I have gotten back into the cranky poo. I now remember the first half. I will work on the second half today, now that I’ve done the prep for teaching this week. Then I will be a gun.
Then I will go back to the Big Schnapple and see if I can finally figure out the second half of that.
It’s kind of nice having a memory like a sieve – everything old is new again.
And while we’re talking endorphine-charged speedfreakin’ old-is-new badassery… the jitterbug contest from Keep Punchin’. If you look real close, you can see me:
Category Archives: lindy hop and other dances
oh goodness me: the new orleans jazz vipers
But I do like the New Orleans Jazz Vipers.
They play olden days music with a nasty olden days energy that gets me all excited. I can’t wait to DJ this stuff.
I couldn’t help but buy all their CDs from www.cdbaby.com. And I love shopping at CDbaby – they got these kids to me in about 10 days from the States, they send nice thank you emails, and they pimp indy music. There’re quite a few artists I like DJing who sell their gear through CDbaby – Gordon Webster, who’s a really great pianist and also a nice guy and a lindy hopper. I’ve had my eye on that CD for a while – that’s some sweet action for blues dancing. His other half (oh, how they’d hate me describing them that way), Solomon Douglas is also sold through CDbaby… I can’t think of any others just now, but I’ve bought a few CDs through them.
And I love love love these Vipers CDs. I also have my eye on a Tshirt.
round up
Enough of the random posts. Just join them all together and make one long stream of consciousness post.
Right now my stomach is feeling unsure. It began feeling unsure yesterday after I had chicken salad from the joint in Summer Hill. I wouldn’t have eaten there if it hadn’t been 4pm and I hadn’t forgotten to have lunch. I’d also walked to the hardware store (again – I freakin’ love that place) and then round the long way to the shops, mostly so I could look at the flour mill that’s up for redevelopment. I am fascinated by the fact that there’s a giant flour mill just down the street, and that it’s joined to another flour mill in Dulwich Hill by a special-duty train line. That one’s been made into flats, though. But I’m still really interested in it. It seems I’m not the only one into flour mills. There’s always someone leaning over the railing on the bridge over the railway, staring at the giant white flour mill (the one in Summer Hill). It’s a pretty good view – a long view, from a height. And it’s so freakin’ big. And you just know that the people having a stare are thinking about what they’d do with the site if they owned it. I don’t know why they’re bothering – it belongs to a gang of crows who’ve been terrorising the pigeons in that neck of the woods, and they’re not likely to cede it to a bunch of no-winged two-leggers who’d like a little light industrial inner-city living.
So yeah, my stomach feels a bit odd. I can’t decide if it’s dodgy chicken salad or anxiety. It could quite possibly be low level anxiety. This is the first day I’ve had to myself in the new house with no real jobs to do. I guess I need to go up to Ashfield to get groceries (we have none). I’d really like to get into the city to a) go to see some Art, and (more importantly), b) find that tapestry speciality place. But I’m apparently crippled by… that thing that makes it difficult to leave the house. I think I might chalk all this up to hormones, as I’ve actually been feeling quite wonderful ever since we got here. I really like traveling and I love being in a new city. I like all the walking. Plus Sydney’s fabulous weather is making me feel so good. I hadn’t realised just how draining Melbourne’s grey skies and nasty cold were until we left. I am remembering how nice it is to live in a warmer climate. But I’m not so struck on the increased humidity – I am also remembering its effects on my allergies.
It’s not so much that I’ve been shouting at innocent blokes, but more that I’ve been trying to rub my nose off my face and had trouble concentrating. It could be PMS, but I actually am pretty sure it’s allergies screwing with my mood. I’m trying not to take antihistamines as I seem to be on them every single day, but it’s not really making me feel nice.
I’m also at home because I’m waiting for tradesmen #62 000. Actually, it’s more like tradesman #9. Really. I am liking living in a house where the owner actually fixes things. The things we’ve needed fixed have been fairly inconsequential… well, except for the River of Effluent… but they’ve been fixed immediately.
1. windows painted shut? fixed (Charlie, from Greece – my favourite)
2. fence built? done (whatsit from Malta – initially my least favourite, but later one of my top 5)
3. forgotten bathtub spout? done (young fulla who’s name I can’t remember. ok)
4. garage door doesn’t close? not quite fixed, but at least a couple of blokes came to look at it (one of whom was Mal, whose parents were from Italy).
5. garage door still not closing? still not fixed (another bloke who failed to return and give me his life story, though he did provide a few interesting tips on the tensile strength of various metals).
6. sound proofing? quotes done (including…. can’t remember his name either. But he was Greek by descent and he lives in the outer suburbs but works in Marrickville. He recommends the cakes in Leichardt)
7 and 8. River of Effluent? dammed. (“Maria! Send tradesmen, please! The garden is full of effluent!” 2 young fullas of skip descent, up to their knees in human waste, giving our drains a good routing. White neighbour-cat carefully discouraged from helping)
9. Today it’s another sound proofing guy. Apparently the owner is going ahead with it (which is wonderful). He was supposed to be here between 9.30 and 10, but it’s 10.39 now. He and the garage door guy have failed to return.
Part of me is worried about all this tradesman action. I don’t want to use up all my credit now when I’ll certainly need it in the future… or will I? We have obviously moved up a rental bracket, to that wondrous place where wiring isn’t illegal and life-endangering (we have a trip switch! No plug points have caught fire! We have had electricity for at least three weeks!) and where plumbing is generally sound, barring the usual hiccups of a house that’s over 100 and recently had new pipes installed. No water mains have burst, filling our veggie patches with boiling water. No windows have broken, letting in arctic winds. And the stove works wonderfully. There are no mice (knock on wood), but I have seen one large cockroach in the house. I remembered why I actually wear thongs. After I dealt with it The Squeeze proceeded to sing ‘la cocka roacha!, la cocka roacha!’ around the house for about five minutes in a Tom Waits voice. It was entertaining, but perhaps too entertaining so close to bed time – it was difficult to sleep with the thought of Tom Waits serenading me in a Mexican cantina.
So I’m wondering if we’re tempting fate with all this tradesmen action.
This hasn’t stopped me asking if it’s ok to dig up the garden and plant zillions of herbs. Ordinarily I’d just do it, but the landlord seems pretty house-proud, so the rules are different. Our back neighbour (who lives in the back part of this federation home) is a chef, so he’s also quite keen on a herb garden/veggie patch. He is now My Friend, partly because I am still in post-move aggressive friendliness mode and will not allow otherwise. He is also the owner of aforementioned friendly white cat (Alby).
Alby is convinced he actually lives in our part of the house as well, and follows me around all day. He divides his time between sleeping in front of the front door in the sun, trying to climb into my laundry basket, romancing me with quite lovely accapella and playing in Rivers of Effluent. I am mightily allergic to cats, so there’s no physical contact, a lot of “No! Don’t go in there! Get out of there!” This has, of course, made me both the most interesting and the most appealing part of our neighbourhood.
The other day Alby was joined by Fluffy Tailed Black Cat from round the corner, and they both proceeded to play in the mulch and attempt domestic incursions. Alby failed (I think he’s a bit dumb – he’s very pretty, being white with pale blue eyes and a pink nose – but he’s not so smart. He’s also quite young), but FTBC had a little more luck. I was making the bed when a pair of large black ears was followed by a goofy black face over the other side of the bed. As I picked him up (physical contact! Aaaargh!) he let out a sort of ‘mrprrft’ purr-burp and kept up the chainsaw action as I clamped him under the armpits and hefted him outside.
I have also seen a giant orange and white tom with a mangled up face. Both Alby and I gave him a deal of distance as he marked out the new trees as his territory. We were both willing to concede him sovereignty.
On other fronts, I am working at Gleebooks doing functions (thanks Glen!). I like it a LOT. I was too late for sessional teaching this semester, but have lined up some contacts for next year. I have already DJed one set here in Sydney and am set for a blues set this Sunday. It seems there aren’t too many DJs here, which is a shame. But I’m really enjoying dancing, so I’m not sure I’m ready to DJ a whole lot. I will set limits.
Last weekend we went to Canberra for Canberrang, the Canberra lindy exchange. I bought a Tshirt and DJed one set. We stayed with an old school friend of mine and only attended two night’s worth. I think I prefer shorter events – Fri, Sat, Sun nights max. Any more is kind of too much. We went on the bus and it wasn’t too bad. It was also very cheap. On the way back it snowed and snowed and snowed and snowed. It was like Europe. With eucalypts and kangaroos. We had a good time, over all.
We have quite a few friends here in Sydney, and have already had interstate visitors. Next week we get more. And the next week The Squeeze’s matriarch arrives, so we will get our tourist on, big time. Which I’m looking forward to. I feel like the OPERA HOUSE is out there doing fun things without me every day. Then we have people coming up for SLX in September. Then my mother in October (perhaps). Then we’re down in November for MLX. Then it’s christmas, which we may spend in Melbourne, but we aren’t sure. So it’s all systems go. Sydney is apparently one of those cities people really like to visit. Partly because it rocks – there’s just so much to do. And also because the weather is nice. Which is where it pwns Melbourne.
I like Sydney, but I am a bit sad that there are so few fabric shops. I have seen two in Marrickville, and I have been given the sweet lowdown by a dress making Hollywood lindy hopper, and will get on into the city (Haymarket) to find more. Then there’s Cabramatta, but that’s miles away. At any rate, none are a short bike ride away, so it seems I will have to find new hobbies. Or rediscover old ones. I have also found a yoga studio quite near by, but it is some sort of arty made up bullshit yoga, and not straight out iyengar. I need to get on that ASAP as I miss yoga already. Also, I haven’t ridden my bike once. This means that I’m getting more exercise, but I am missing my bike. Poor blacky, stuck in the shed all day, bored and lonely. The Squeeze has been riding to work in the city and comes home with stories about having his arse kicked by the hills and making friends with other bike riders. This city is disturbingly friendly. Everyone seems so delighted that we’ve left Melbourne for Sydney – there’re lots of “How do you like it?”s and chats with strangers about cake. There are fewer conversations about the weather, but I suppose that’s because it’s so nice here there’s really nothing to say beyond “pwoar – another freakin’ beautiful day, hey?”
Alright, that’s enough blathering. I have to go…. well, not do anything, really, but I might as well think about doing something other than making internet. You know the rules: get out of bed, change out of your pajamas (or pa-yamas! if you’re Tom Waits a la cantina), leave the internet alone after a couple of hours. It is, unsurprisingly, a beautiful day, and there’re fabric shops to stalk.
more lovely swedish action
(From here).
That’s Hanna, Mattias and Sakarias. No girly girl action there.
I realise I’ve been spelling Sak’s name incorrectly. These guys are all members of the Harlem Hot Shots, and I think they’re the best of the post-revival (or revival) generation.
Speaking of no girly action…“>!.
While I’m at it, here‘re some of the Hot Shots doing some Tranky Doo/Keep Punchin’ Big Apple action. Sweeeeeet.
And finally, of course, Frida takes no prisoners:
more youtube ‘blogging’
Herrang is home to the bestest vernacular jazz dance camp/festival in the world. Last few years they’ve followed up the camp with a competition in Sweden – the Battle. I use a clip from a previous year for teaching and papers at conferences.
This year the lindy hop didn’t really blow my brain, but there is some sweetness in the ‘authentic jazz competition’. Mostly in the person of one Zacharias Larsson. This boy is a giant, young Swede – quite possibly the sweetest thing. And my personal jazz dancing hero.
Check out the first clip below. That’s Zach in the white shirt and beige trousers.
(From here).
For my money, he’s the only one really bringing it – less with the show pony, more with the dancing (though he’s certainly not shy of a little showing off).
Look, here’s some more – from the finals:
(From here).
Oh yeah, that’s the action. Try to look past the flailing in the foreground (sorry, friends, but that’s not very interesting stuff – better than anything I could pull, but still… I really am tired of girls dancing dancing sexy and twirling their hands about like belly dancers – HARDEN UP!).
And, finally, peer past (even more) flailing to see him pull some serious sweet action here:
He really is pulling some sweet dancing there. If we were to get all nit-picky, he’s definitely working the ‘authentic’ stuff – as in dance steps which have some historical weight. Technically, he’s a dream. Musically, he’s awesome. And aesthetically – as a package – he makes it all work. My favourite in that last one is the way he works it quite small until the music gets big, then he brings out the nice high kicks (a la cake walking goodness).
He’s not only a nice person and a fabulous dancer, he’s also a fully sick teacher. He and Frida have been long term dance partners (though she’s getting more into the American scene these days). Here’s a photo The Squeeze took in Melbourne in 2002:
That’s them at full stretch, kickin’ it lindy hop style.
trev got pwnd
But this image pwns all.
barbara morrison does sydney
Sparingly: Barbara Morrison rocks. Her music is very popular with swing dancers (though I’m always surprised that so few go see her shows when she’s in town – she’s a seasoned musicians who specialises in playing for dancers), and she’s doing a few shows in Sydney and one in Melbourne. She’s doing one special show for dancers with specially-priced tickets: only $30 for the first 100 tickets. She’ll be playing with the Brad Child Orchestra & John Harkins Trio. I met Brad Child last week at the Unity Hall Pub (where we’ll be this afternoon… quite soon… if you like jass) and he’s quite keen on the gig. I’m curious and looking forward to it.
From the site…
US Jazz/Blues Vocalist BARBARA MORRISON RETURNS BY POPULAR DEMAND in “MEMORIES of ELLA, SARAH & BILLIEâ€
The undisputed first ladies of Jazz Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan and Billie Holliday are being saluted by US acclaimed jazz/blues vocalist Barbara Morrison, who is returning by popular demand to Australian stages in August 2008.
“The Captivating Ms. Morrison just tears ‘em up!†(LA Scoop)
“A joy! At Carnegie Hall, Barbara Morrison delivered one song a la Esther Phillips and another with Ella Fitzgerald’s blithe scat singing.†(New York Times)
and “She can be as playful as Ella, as thoughtful as Sarah, as naughty as Etta. Barbara Morrison, has an international following with her big personality and delicious sense of swing†(The Jazz World Magazine).
Where and when?
Thursday, August 21 from 7:30 pm
Factory Theatre, 105 Victoria Road, Enmore, Sydney, Australia
jazz on a winter’s day
1. I am full of snot because I forgot to take my antihistamine yesterday and our house is full of moving dust.
2. I got up late because we went dancing at the Roxbury. Yes, we had a night at the Roxbury. It was wicked fun – a crowded, pumping room with lots of dancers and lots of fun. There’s a lot of dancing in Sydney, and a lot of dancers. So far we have been out dancing four times (in two weeks!), and had to beg off a fifth because we were wrecked from house hunting. It wasn’t just a heap of fun because there were so many dancers there, it was also a heap of fun because there’s such a range of dancing styles on the floor. There’re two major schools in Sydney, one which is an off-shoot of a Melbourne school, another which also has an interstate presence and which teaches ‘Hollywood’ style. I have to say that there were some leads there last night that blew my brain – they were so good I just thought ‘just follow, just follow – don’t muck this up with any fancy business’.
They weren’t just technically good dancers, they were also socially ‘good’ – they’d smile and respond and interact with their partners and did nice things like say “thanks for that dance!” and ask for another with enthusiasm. They were also more musically interesting – not just dancing the same old boring steps in the same old combinations, regardless of phrasing or energy or the structure of the song generally. And then they were great because they did things like include interesting jazz steps, experiment with the connection and really make me pay attention.
First night in town dancing I was suddenly struck by how obstructive my own bad habits are to my following. And when I danced with someone who ‘felt’ like a Melbourne dancer (yanking me in on one, rather than using a more mellow lead in), I suddenly thought ‘oh, this is why I have this bad habit of running in one, rather than waiting to be led – I’m trying to protect myself and avoid yank’. But that same protective rush is also impeding my following – it’s like I’m interrupting and yapping on without listening to their idea; I’m finishing their sentences. And in turn this makes it difficult for us to actually have a proper conversation where we’re both contributing equally.
A nice thing about dancing in a really diverse scene with lots of leads who take very different approaches is that I have to pick up my game and I feel inspired and really interested in actually dancing. Another nice thing is that it’s really nice to watch the floor. In fact, it feels like we’re at an exchange – even The Squeeze is dancing a lot. We’re possibly going dancing again tonight (a big band squeezed into the Unity Hall pub in Balmain this afternoon) and while I’m a bit hesitant as we have more house stuff to do, he’s all “yep, we’ll be there!”
There’re actually quite a few live bands to see in Sydney. In fact, there’s not much of a DJing culture at all here, and most people are into live music for their dancing. This is really very nice – we’ve only seen one band so far, but it’s always exciting to see new musicians. The year we went to SLX (the Sydney Lindy Exchange) the exchange coincided with the Manly Jazz Festival – now that was special.
3. Which is a nice segue to my next point. Right now I’m watching Jazz on a Summer’s Day, a 1960 film made about the Newport Jazz Festival. FXH recommended it in his comment to this post, but I’d mistaken it for another film. Any how, I ordered it on our Quickflix account and I’m watching it right now, while I wipe my nose and The Squeeze has a long, deliciously decadent lie-in (the first he’s had in about a month). It’s a great film, the music is really fabulous and the visuals are really neat – lots of crowd footage, scenes from the yacht race and of course, really, really amazing footage of musicians. 
Newport looms large in my mind for a number of reasons. Firstly, because there are so many freakin’ amazing albums featuring performances from the festival.
My most recent purchase in this series was the Mahalia Jackson live in 1958, and that really is fully sick. Beyond that, there’s the Count Basie at Newport album, and of course, the Ellington at Newport in ’56. Both of these are really neat. What makes them so neat is the fact that these were really big stars live in front of a massive crowd at an outdoor festival.
Beyond these, Newport is also an important character in a film I’ve always loved, High Society. Louis Armstrong stars in High Society, and the protagonist Dexter is played by Bing Crosby. Dexter is set up as a patron/organiser? (I can’t remember which) of the Newport Jazz Festival, and the entire film is set in Newport. There’re some interesting class things going on in the film, the one that always catches my interest being the way Armstrong is set up as the ‘narrative’ of the film in the opening scene as he and his band arrive in town in a coach (a nice contrast with Samantha’s sports car). Armstrong also sings the really great song ‘Now You Has Jazz’ with Bing Crosby, a song which is popular with dancers (and good fun for dancing). There’s a sweet scene where Armstrong and the band introduce the very straight, very white crowd of Newport socialites to jazz. They play the one song then it’s back to straighty-one-eighty unswing, unjazz for the rest of the party. I really like the idea of a black man (and such an important man in the history of jazz) introducing a bunch of straights to jazz at a Newport society house party. The crowd are apparently completely unaware of the festival and its significance – oblivious to the world beyond their high society manners and conflicts. Crosby’s role is kind of problematic, set up as he is, as the ‘patron’ for the festival.
It’s interesting to watch High Society in reference to Jazz on a Summer’s Day, and in the light of the festival’s history more generally. And I’m very grateful to FXH for getting me onto this film in the first place.
lindy hop 80s style
I know it’s wrong to just post youtube clips, but I had to. This is some dancing from the 80s – I’m sure I recognise some famous doods there, but I’m confident enough to specify. But you HAVE to watch through to see two chicks dancing together – they rock.
In a similar vein, here’s some more 80s lindy. This time it’s the Harlem Hot Shots (Swedish superstars) doing a fully sick recreation of very famous routine(s). These guys are really tight, pulling out shit that’s tres chic with the kids today… and to think, some of those kids were all ‘I only dance smooth’ five years ago. Sigh.
FYI: here’s the original routine referenced by the Hot Shots:
…and of course, the Hellza routine:
camp jitterbug 08
The Camp Jitterbug clips are always really nice – some wonderful editing (evidencing a dancer’s understanding of tempo, rhythm and, well, wonderfulness), and this is teaser for this year’s DVD:
My favourite part of any competition (and CJ is a comp weekend), is the solo charleston. Here’s this year’s final:
That girl in the final there, that’s Sharon – she’s Australian. I especially love the dynamic between competitors and between competitors and crowd in this type of competition. There’s a real to-and-fro – the dancers dance better with encouragement. And you can hear the crowd’s response when they like something – not just louder, but an increase in intensity. And of course, this type of competition requires dancers know something about phrasing – they send themselves in at the end of a phrase and have to get themselves out. And of course, with a live band all this communication and creative reciprocity is even more exciting.