WIMMIN and lindy hop RIGHT NOW in my city.

I’m going to wade into the discussion about bodies and lindy hop any second now. Because Parrot and Cat and Lindy Shopper and Aries have not only had a rowdy back-and-forth about bodies and clothing in dance, with high emotion and all caps (oh, that was probably me with the all caps), they’ve also had a series of calm, caring private message conversations (as have I).

Because feminist talk is robust. We can be furious and loud and shouting, and then we can also apologise, we can have calm discussion and we can talk about how we feel without getting all shitty pants. We can work hard to understand each other’s points of view, and we can also maintain our commitment to an idea. This is how feminism works, my friends. We do consensus, but we also do disagreement and negotiation. We do shouting, and we also do quiet talk. And I am feeling quite proud that such intelligent, capable, motivated, ambitious, formidable Sisters can do all this and STILL come out of this being awesome. And I’m super excited by the thought that these women are all my friends and that I can send them an email or private message to check in and see if they’re ok, or to share ideas, or to get angry and motivated.

But before I write about the fascinating, engrossing ideas that have been prompted by this discussion, I have things to do. I have to plan these three lindy hop weekends, get some DJs for another exchange, do some jobs for One Billion (Jazz dancers) Rising (which is on next week, and you should come), sort out some admin for my dance class, learn to strap my newly-bung foot, and do some of my paid work. That’s an awful lot of thinking about dancing, right there.

Wait. Commercial Time.

Some very clever friends of mine have organised a dance for next Thursday (14th February) night at the Petersham Bowling Club. There’s a free class at 7pm (taught by one or two women – one could be me, the other is definitely Alice, who is SOLO JAZZ QUEEN), then dancing til late to three female DJs (who are me, Kat Galang (who is fucking A1 DJ atm) and Justine Kinkade (Juke Joint organiser, long standing DJ GUN)). There will be raffles with a bunch of top prizes, including dance classes, random things, and a bundle of CDs donated by a heap of bands (GOOD CDs).

THE IMPORTANT PART: all profits are being donated to the Taree Women and Children’s Shelter. ALL the profits!

I think this is the best idea for an event, and I feel so thrilled and honoured to be part of such an exciting project. This is a really stop shelf team of women organisers and talent, and I have to point out: our Sydney dance scene has a lot of amazing women doing quite innovative and top quality work. We have some totally quality men involved and doing great work as well, but Sydney’s lindy hop scene should feel very proud of the arse kicker chicks we have. Look, I just feel massive wub for my local dance scene, ok?

This is why I don’t have time to respond to what is, essentially, same old beauty myth rubbish. I’m busy fucking over the patriarchy over here, so I trust you guys to get business done over there.

But I will say that while I am doing all these jobs, my breasts are often exposed because I rarely wear a bra, YOLO, and I work from home. If I were to flash my tits at a kid, I’d probably lol, and they’d probably lol because HA HA! One of the best dancing nights I’ve ever had was in a friend’s lounge room. I danced so hard I popped three buttons off my dress and didn’t notice and nor did anyone else and the half dozen kids there were wholly uninterested (at which I was quite disappointed). But I was kind of traumatised because I kept standing on bits of lego in my bare feet.

This is the most important thing I have to say:

If women spend half their lives fucking about worrying about what they look like, they don’t have time for much more important things. Like DANCING LIKE SUPERHEROES and DJing and running events and planning gigs for charities and talking shit with their homies.

So, really, who gives a flying fuck what someone ELSE is wearing? Really, you have much more important things to do!

The Reconstructionists

This is such a fabulous project. Lisa Congdon and Maria Popova are creating the Reconstructionists:

The Reconstructionists, a collaboration between illustrator Lisa Congdon and writer Maria Popova, is a yearlong celebration of remarkable women — beloved artists, writers, and scientists, as well as notable unsung heroes — who have changed the way we define ourselves as a culture and live our lives as individuals of any gender.

Every Monday in 2013, we’ll be publishing an illustrated portrait of one such trailblazing woman, along with a hand-lettered quote that captures her spirit and a short micro-essay about her life and legacy.

The project borrows its title from Anaïs Nin, one of the 52 female icons, who wrote of “woman’s role in the reconstruction of the world” in a poetic 1944 diary entry — a sentiment that encapsulates the heart of what this undertaking is about: women who have reconstructed, in ways big and small, famous and infamous, timeless and timely, our understanding of ourselves, the world, and our place in it.

Here is one entry that seems especially appropriate for this blog:

When 23-year-old Sister Rosetta Tharpe (March 20, 1915 – October 9, 1973) first walked into the recording studio in 1938, she likely didn’t dare imagine that she would one day be celebrated as gospel music’s first superstar. The godmother of rock and roll. “The original soul sister.” But that’s precisely what the talented singer and electric guitarist went on to become, bridging the spiritual lyricism of gospel with the secular allure of rock and roll arrangements.

Lemon parsley sauce

Make this and serve it with roasted veggies, some greens and poached eggs, or with salmon.

  • 1 bunch flat leaf parsley
  • 6 anchovy fillets
  • 2 tbsp capers
  • grated zest 2 lemons
  • 1/2 cup lemon juice
  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • ground pepper

Whizz everything except the olive oil and pepper in the food processor. Then add the olive oil gradually as you whizz, til it’s mixed in properly. Then add some pepper.

If you’re a vegan or a vegetarian and you don’t eat anchovies, I’m not sure what you can do. Or what can be done for you. You’ll need to up the salt without them. And, well, look. Just don’t bother. Don’t bother. You need anchovies.

Honeysuckle Rose

‘Honeysuckle Rose’ is one of my absolute favourite songs. It shouldn’t surprise you that it was composed by Fats Waller, with lyrics by Andy Razaf. Waller was super talented. Duh.
There are sixty billion different versions of Honeysuckle Rose. Sixty billion.

This is one of Waller’s:

linky

But I want to look at this one, by Basie’s band in 1937:

linky

I love love love love it. There’s something about that bigger band, and Basie’s different piano style that adds to the song.

I was just listening to this version by Jonathon Stout and Glen Crytzer’s bands battling together with this song as the framework:

linky

I’m not an expert, but this sounds like an adaption of the Basie arrangement. And then they add a bunch more layers to the song. The dixie ‘joke’ in the middle is gold, and a really good example of the difference between swing era swing and that earlier moment in jazz, before swing stormed the world. I’ve written about this performance a bunch of times, and you can follow up some links to the musicians’ own ideas about the song via links in my post bands for dancing.

hot as fuck: bands

It’s 45*C in Sydney.

Things that dancers just need to get over wrt live bands:

  • Long songs. Just deal, yo. You don’t have to dance the whole thing. And you don’t have to dance two songs with each partner.
  • Songs that start slow, then get faster after the intro. It’s not that big a deal.
  • Fast songs. You don’t have to dance the whole thing, and you don’t have to dance every song. Get some fitness, get some small dancing happening, get over yourselves.
  • A band’s songs all ‘sounding the same’. Geezus. They’re a BAND not a DJ. They got a thing going on: get used to it.

Things that bands need to figure out if they want to play gigs organised by and for dancers:

  • Dancers like songs that are about 3 minutes long. This is because they’re usually used to dancing to CDs. Technology enforced this 3 minute rule. Suck it up. You can play your long songs, yo, but if you play lots of really long, really fast songs, the dancers will eventually all sit down. SCIENCE, BRO.
  • Not everyone in the band needs a solo. Unless your band is made up of the Esquire All Stars, you’re probably not that good. Sorry, mates, but that’s how it is. This isn’t a democracy: it’s jazz. Even if you are that good, I’m not convinced you’ve always got something to say.
  • Dancers aren’t seated audiences. They’re not listening to the music the way seated audiences are. They’re riding their adrenaline, and their appreciation for your art is going to be tempered by their physical abilities. This means:
    • If you play all super fast songs, and all super long songs, your dancing crowd is going to die. Work the tempo wave, yo.
    • Dancers are jocks, pretty much. They’re not going to appreciate that complicated, noodly bit of low-energy, finger-fiddling bit of solo that goes on for four phrases. Stop that. It’s wankery. Get your head up, look at the room and not at your fingers. Work the crowd.
    • Engage the crowd. Yeah, you’re an artist. But right now you’re playing for dancers. Make some eye contact. Pay attention to what you see, and learn to understand what you see. The communication between dancers and audiences isn’t verbal. It’s non-verbal. Dancers learn to dig what you’re doing, so you learn to dig what they’re doing. Then we can all be a TEAM.
    • Long bass solos are boring. Sorry, Ray Brown, but four phrases of subsonic twiddling = dull dancing. Stop it.
    • Dancers are unlikely to clap your solo. Sorry mates. But they’ll let you know they’re listening with the way they move.