NEEDS MOAR DJS ? (part 1)

In this post I ramble on about Sydney’s DJing culture at the moment, particularly in reference to its social dancing culture and basic demographics. It began as a huge post, but has split into two. The second one (NEEDS MOAR DJS ? (part 2)) spends a bit of time talking about why DJing sucks and why I like DJing. At some point in the future I’ll try to write about how we might (despite all our better instincts) go about encouraging new DJs in the swing dance scene. I’ll begin this discussion with a blanket statement: Sydney’s swing dancers like live music. I’ve written quite a bit about it in this post ‘Swing Dancing’ and Lindy Hop in Sydney: an Exercise in Speculative Fiction. But we also quite like DJed social dancing nights as well.

I think there’s a link between a scene’s age and its use of DJs. New scenes rely on bands for social dancing, and only use DJs to fill in after class or in informal contexts. Yes? Hm. That seems a long bow to draw. But let’s leave it for now, and move on to another spurious declaration. Older scenes develop fairly complicated and professionalised DJing cultures and DJs. They also produce better DJs, usually people who’ve been dancing for a while, but not always. In recent moments, though, some of the older scenes in America have returned to live music in a big way (Seattle), and scenes in cities like New York and New Orleans are seeing increasing attention to their live music cultures from local and visiting dancers. In these scenes DJing has taken a more supportive (though still essential) role. Sydney dancers traveling overseas to scenes like these are bringing this idea back to our city: live music is good. Their online discussion and interaction with dancers from those overseas scenes reinforces the radical ideas traveling dancers bring home to Sydney. The idea that ‘live music is good’ (and ‘cool’) is also circulating in other Australian scenes, and reinforced when Australian dancers meet up at events or talk online.
For an awful lot of dancers, the idea of what they should like (as propagated by teachers, influential individuals (teachers, etc), the programs of high profile events, etc) is more important than what they might actually like. For example, most people find themselves, mid-dance liking dancing to LCJO’s ‘C Jam Blues’. But most dancers who’ve been around for a while don’t like the idea of dancing to it. Because it’s too overplayed/slow/bigband/whatevs. This fascinates the part of my brain that likes to think about taste and cultures of taste and the influence of various digital media. It can really frustrate the other part of my brain that likes to DJ stuff I like, which doesn’t always coincide with popular trends (enough goddamn tuba-shouting-banjo for Ceiling Cat’s sake! For pity’s sake, give me a little classic big band swing for my lindy hop!) But, for the most part, it’s difficult to argue with this fad. Live music: it is good. It really is.

So there’s something of a tension between DJed and live music social dancing in Sydney. They often attract different crowds and are managed by different ideological, financial and political forces.

Let’s talk numbers.

Sydney lindy hop demographics. There are about 4.5 million people living in Sydney (and about 4 million in Melbourne). Sydney is the largest city in Australia, though not the fastest growing. DJing isn’t one of the largest pools of labour in the Sydney lindy hop community – there are only about thirteen of us. There are about fourteen teachers working regularly and occasionally with the two larger inner city schools, and many teachers are also DJs. There are a bunch of other teachers with the other schools in the outer suburbs, but I don’t know them at all really (I’d put them, conservatively, at about ten teachers). Unpaid volunteers number anywhere between fifty and one hundred across the two larger schools (this is a difficult one to quantify). I have no idea how many people take swing dance classes in Sydney. Sydney has hosted two or three larger annual events in the past (dropping to one this year) and a number of smaller workshop weekends. There is a great deal of cross-pollination with the Canberra scene, which is only a three hour drive away. No other Australian scenes are so close together – most are at least eight hours drive apart (I am blurring Geelong into the outer suburbs of Melbourne).

Sydney has lots of social dancing. Because we have lots of DJed social nights. We have three regular dancer-run DJed events: Swingpit, Roxbury, Jump Jive n Wail. JJW is mostly rock n roll, jump blues and neo swing, and it’s a gig managed by one professional DJing couple. It’s a majorly popular cross-over point between the rock n roll, rockabilly,’swing’ and lindy hop scenes. Roxbury and Swingpit are run by two different dance schoosl and are on fortnightly, on alternating weekends. Swingpit uses four DJs per month, Roxbury between four and six per month. They tend to draw on different DJing pools. Then there’s the new and irregular North Sydney after-class social dancing, which has one or two sets per month, give or take. DJs are also used for other occasional social dances – the (irregular) late night Speakeasy, band breaks for live music gigs run by dancers, and larger social dances run every now and then.


(Me, Ben and Kat, DJs for the SP performance ball this year. Not the most thrilling DJing gig; we may have been distracted by our own fun.)

Sydney’s complicated cultural architecture leaves us in a fairly tricky position when it comes to running DJed social dancing nights. Basically, we don’t have enough DJs to fill all our DJed social dancing spots. Our current venues use between ten and twelve DJ sets per month. That’s at least two sets per week. Of the ~thirteen DJs in our town, five DJ regularly and have solid skills. Only three of those DJ interstate, and only two or three would I hire for a big interstate event. We also have five DJs who DJ irregularly, but who would really rather dance. Two of the thirteen very rarely DJ any more (and haven’t in literally years). We have one or two or perhaps three or four who are really green. And then there are assorted blues DJs who don’t get to DJ anywhere any more at the moment, as our blues scene has pretty much collapsed.
When you look at the number of sets to be filled, those thirteen DJs don’t go too far. Some (like me) will do quite a few sets, but cap at about three per month. Most would rather DJ no more than once a month. Some are on complete hiatus.
At this point I simply can’t get enough DJs to fill the slots at Swingpit alone. This is partly because it’s November, and November is a busy month. Sure, people go nuts in December with parties and stuff, but in November people are really working their guts out at work. And Sydney can be an expensive town, requiring jobs that can be quite demanding. We’re also at the tail end of exchange season in Australia – there are about six large events in October and November, plus a round of christmas dances and festivals. So most of the DJs (and teachers and dancers) are kind of tired and burnt out. They just can’t manage DJing on top of everything else.

So we have lots of healthy social dancing nights, quite a lot of keen social dancers, but not enough DJs to do the DJed gigs. The obvious solution would be to put on bands instead of DJs. Bands pull numbers, and Sydney is busy proving there’s a clear market for live music events catering to dancers. So why don’t we just swap bands for DJs?

There are some financial issues at work. Neither Swingpit nor Roxbury could afford to put on a live band every fortnight. Both events are run on quite a tight budget, in part because they only charge $6 and $5 respectively for social dancing entry. That’s nothing. It’s hard to find a decent lunch for $5 these days, let alone a good night of fun dancing. An obvious solution would be to charge more for the social dancing nights, and to put on a band with the extra money. Two years ago I think you’d have had an outraged chorus of tightarsedness from dancers. But these days we pay anywhere from $10 to $40 for live music at venues with good dance floors.
Despite these brilliant(ly unthought out) arguments, there are a range of factors affecting the finances of these events which need to be taken into account. And even I know not to discuss these sorts of things in detail in public. :D
A shift to live music at our regular, dancer-run core social dancing events would mean a larger shift in the way social dancing events are run. Coordinating a band involves different skills and contacts than coordinating DJs. Bands need proper pay, and DJs are largely regarded as ‘hobbyists’ or volunteer labour. DJs are usually dancers and (preferably) know how dancers use music. Bands know music, but aren’t (in Sydney anyway) serious dancers, so they don’t know how dancers use music. More importantly, one gig for dancers a fortnight is not the most important thing in a band’s working life. They have other, more lucrative (corporate) gigs in their schedule. I think, however, the biggest and most difficult challenge in shifting from DJs to bands would involve prioritising music and social dancing, which organisations who make their money from teaching are not willing to do.

What if we did drop DJs completely and use bands instead? I’m not sure how things would go. I don’t think class-centred institutions like dance ‘schools’ could accommodate such hardcore ideological shifts. That’s a whole different way of thinking about dance and about profitable dance projects. An entire reshuffling of the social hierarchies and (commodified) knowledge values of a community. I think the modern Sydney lindy hop scene needs DJs, if only because it means that it doesn’t then need to reassess the value it gives music, and the knowledge and financial economy of the scene as a whole. Such a major change would involve a lot of ground-level effort, which Sydney isn’t really built for. Not at the moment. But even with an increased emphasis on live music for dancer-run events, there’d still be a place for DJed social dancing, if only on a smaller scale.

Let’s pause for a moment, and think about me.

What would I like? In a perfect world there’d be social dancing every week. Twice a week. At least. By social dancing, I mean spaces and events that are perfect for dancing. A decent floor that’s not covered in drunks and broken glass. They could be with live bands. That’d be cool. But I’d be ok with a really good DJed event as as well. So long as they were really good DJs. To be honest, in my perfect world, we’d have a DJed dance once a month that featured only really top notch DJing, was held in a dance-centred space (like a not-too-big dance studio) with an excellent, appropriate sound system, with a bar next door or attached or something so we could get drinks or noms. But the dancing would be the most important activity. And by good DJing, I mean mad crowd working skills and excellent solid swinging jazz. No neo. No rock n roll. No fucking novelty songs. Just 1920s-1950s classic swing and modern recreationist bands. Combined cleverely by a DJ who’s watching the floor. Four hours of that once a month, and I’d be happy. I’d complement that with lots of dancing to live bands each week. Unity Hall on Sundays. A Friday night band in a fun venue like the Camelot Lounge. Saturdays at different one-off events with different bands. A different band (or two) each week.

I’d be quite happy retiring some of our DJed social dancing sets. My DJ skills would slide a bit, but I do DJ interstate quite a bit, so I’m not really all that sad about it. And, by gum, I’d much prefer dancing to DJing myself! Right, now I’ve almost convinced myself that crying “DJ drought” is really my missing the point. Perhaps it might be more useful to rethink a (short sighted, isolationist) DJ-centred approach to social swing dancing culture. It seems a better idea to integrate live music more thoroughly into our everyday dance activities, to reduce our DJed dancer-run events and present entirely new types of dancer-run DJed events.

So, really, is it so sad to lose DJed social dancing? Hmmmm…..

I’m going to continue this discussion in another post, as this one is way too big already. The second part (NEEDS MOAR DJS ? (part 2)) will talk about the frustrating parts of DJing and this ‘DJ drought’.

[EDIT: This is one of a number of loosely-associated posts about music in Sydney lindy hop today. This list includes:

]

8tracks: 10 songs by women singers that warrant a second look. Or narrowed eyes, at least.

I’ve just done a new 8tracks:

(linky, image from Shorpy).

These are just ten slower songs with women singers. Singers who have voices that make me stop and pay attention, or versions of songs that I’m just not sure about. These are probably, then, songs warranting a little suspicion. A second look, at least. Or narrowed eyes.

I put them together randomly, beginning with the Madeline Peyroux song. I saw her live a few years ago in Melbourne at a fancy theatre and she was a) really late on stage, and b) complete and utter rubbish. She really irritates me, and she fuddles her way through this really great song. That is why she’s here. Because, despite all that, the song is good because the rest of the band makes up for her mess. I’ve never played any of her stuff for dancers. Shame on me if I ever do.
Nellie Lutcher is a gun. She plays the piano.
Same with Martha Davis. This song is buttery, velvety magic.
Peggy Lee. Nuff said.
Same with Dinah Washington.
Ella Johnson: I keep forgetting her, and I shouldn’t.
Mildred Anderson, falls off the note every now and then, but her voice is amazing.
Koko Taylor will kick your arse up and down the stairs.
Molly Johnson, doing an unusual version of Summertime. I’m not sure if I like it.

(title artist album bpm year length)

Weary Blues Madeline Peyroux with Dean Parks, Larry Goldings, David Piltch, Jay Bellerose, Lee Thornburg, Scott Amendola Careless Love 92 3:41

That’ll Just About Knock Me Out Nellie Lutcher Hurry On Down 113 2:31

Kitchen Blues Martha Davis acc. by unknown BluesWomen: Girls Play And Sing The Blues 80 1947 3:05

Careless Peggy Lee and The Four Of A Kind Complete Peggy Lee and June Christy Capitol Transcription Sessions (Disc 4) 81 1947 2:06

Stormy Weather Buddy Johnson and his Orchestra with Ella Johnson Walk ‘Em 72 1951 3:19

Hey, Good Looking The Ravens and Dinah Washington Dinah Washington:the Queen Sings – Disc 4 – Please Send Me Someone To Love 132 1951 2:43

Hard Times Mildred Anderson No More In Life 67 1960 4:15

I’m Lost Mildred Anderson No More In Life 55 1960 4:36

I’m Gonna Get Lucky Koko Taylor South Side Lady (Live in Netherlands 1973) (Blues Reference) 58 1973 5:25

Summertime Molly Johnson Another Day 137 2002 4:23

fankids gonna fansquee


(Curveball225 winning the yehoodi swing dance memes thread)

That about sums it up. Aren’t too many people who don’t google Skye videos. 90% of those discussions about competitions involve people trying to set aside their Love Of Skye so they can assess the dancing they’re watching. 99% of people have given up trying to set aside their Hero Worship Of Frida.
That was all running through my brain, and then I saw this cute post about heroes on Rantings of a Lindy Hopper.

Link round up: competition and lindy hop


Giselle Anguizola & Chance Bushman vs. Hyunjung Choi & Soochan Lee, ULHS 2011 prelims

I don’t have time/brain to make this a proper story right now, but there are some interesting bits and pieces about judging dance comps floating about at the moment:

Bug’s Question of the Day (on FB), Friday 11 Nov 2011 9:38am:

As a judge, if you knew a dancer had a long standing condition that prevented him/her from making nice lines, or having proper posture, would you consider that during a prelim or final? Some examples of long standing condition might be bow-leggedness, back problems, etc

(with only 9 comments)

The September edition of the Yehoodi talkshow (September 18, 2011) features an interesting discussion about the 2011 ILHC competition and the “top 5 lindy hop showcases of all time”. Here, one of the key points seems to be how judges (or audiences) assess competitors’ performances in reference to their previous work. In other words, how or should you judge competitors you know are brilliant dancers but aren’t bringing their A-game in this moment? There seems to be a tension between ‘dance skills’ (eg straight up technique, fitness, understanding and use of musical structures, lines, etc etc) and ‘performance skills’ (eg a clever, crowd-pleasing choreography, mugging (or not) for the audience, etc). A general idea raised here (and elsewhere) was that dancers who put in lots of time and work on a routine were more deserving of a win than dances who just threw it together at the last minute. My thought was a lot like Manu’s, but I’ll be blunter: quit your bitching and bring your shit. If you don’t have it, practicing for weeks will bring you closer, but you’ll still get pwnd. It’s a competition; it’s not designed to be fair and equitable.

There’s an interesting post over at Wandering and Pondering about ILHC 2011: Frida & Skye Déjà Vu (31 August 2011). This raises some of the key contentions taken up elsewhere: that Skye and Frida don’t actually prepare their routines. The implication in other places is that this somehow makes them less deserving of competition wins. I say: there are different ways of preparing for a competition. If you’re as fully sick as Frida and Skye, you’ve spent your whole lives preparing, and you’re never not preparing. Your competition is an extension of your social dancing. Your ‘routine’ is a series of moves and ideas you’ve been working on for a while, but strung together to suit a song you know very well. In this scenario, you don’t micromanage everything from costumes to facial expressions. You just get your mad skillz and bring your hot shit.
[And that’s why you PWN ALL]

This of course takes us to the heart of the matter: different dancers value different things in a competition dance.

This Wandering and Pondering post Back in the Day (10 October 2011) lists a whole heap of routines Jerry loves. This gives you an idea of his ‘dance values’ and the stuff he likes to see in a competition.

That post was responding to another Bug’s Question of the Day on FB people’s favorite competition videos from 2000-2004.

There’s a longish discussion about Camp Jitterbug 2010 over and Wandering and Pondering, mostly in the comments of the Camp Jitterbug 2010 Roundup post (1 July 2010) which was picked up at Follower Variations, and led to a talk about how to talk about dance critically (as in actively engaging with a dance rather than just dissing or lurving it). I have to note here that my comment about Frida and Skye linked here was misread. I was being quite sarcastic: I thought Frida and Skye’s 2009 ILHC routine was quite amazing. The thing I liked most about it was that they went with a slower song at a time when everyone else was going CRAZY FAST. I really liked that they took a slower song and showed that they can dance orsm at any tempo. You can’t hide your fuck ups in a slow song. I think this might have led to the mixed responses to this routine at the time – peeps were digging on the faster music with the higher energy and this 1943 Roy Eldridge song ‘Jump Through The Window’ felt slower. It’s also a 40s song when most peeps were still trailing along behind Naomi and Todd and the rest of the Silver Shadows who were bringing the hot, fast action in 2005.

I think this last little chunk of linky lays out the way musical and performance tastes and trends change over time. I think 2005 was a turning point for lindy hop competition in that we saw hot, fast, early (as in late 20s, very early 30s), often small group music replace slower, bigger, later recordings. The Silver Shadows pwnd all. And ULHS set the balls-to-the-wall agenda which has really dominated lindy hop since. Not to mention stripping the weight off every competing lindy hopper in the world. But Jerry does a much more thorough job of outlining these changes in his Back in the Day post than I can.
I want to say, though, that this is a story of American lindy hop competition culture, and the Australian story is very different. Mostly, we’re lagging a few years behind the US, and we still haven’t reached the highest international standards when it comes to dance quality in competitions. Australian competition dance as a whole isn’t really representative of the Australian lindy hop dance trends and quality any way – there are plenty of very good Australian dancers who don’t compete at all. But enough! More links!

Finally, Bobby has written three posts on judging dance competitions. He is the king of clear, simple language, so he’s worth reading just for that refreshing break from too-long sentences and cluttered adjectives. :D The first post On Judging (Introduction): A Few Questions was written on the 28th September 2010, the second On Judging, Part 1: The Basic Competition Blueprint was written on the 18th January 2011, and the third On Judging, Part 2: Watching and Note-Taking Technique was written on the 10th November 2011. Again, it’s interesting to see how people develop these ideas over longer periods of time.
This post is sweet for its discussion of the nitty gritty of judging, stuff I know nothing about, because I don’t compete (though I’m happy to speculate). I think the thing we can all take away from those posts is: Sylvia Sykes, queen of ALL.

That’s about all I’ve got to say about competitions and ‘dance values’ in competitions right now, so I’m going to end with some unrelated dancespam. Sylvia Sykes, pwning all:

Dancing with Maxie Dorf, old timer balboa king, in 1993.

Sylvia making Nick’s tricks possible in 2007 (note Frida’s inability to clap whilst watching. International symbol of pattern-matching dancer watching mad balboa patterns).

I was going to finish off with a brilliant clip of Sylvia and Manu competing in a jack and jill together because it clearly demonstrates dancers’ respect for Sylvia and Manu’s general awesomesauce, but the user had taken it down. Boo!

[EDIT: Doh. I forgot add some links about ILHC 2011 from Jo’s blog. I like her posts because they give you an insight into her thinking about her own competition dancing (well, that’s the first reading; it could all be a clever PR plan :D ): Highlights from ILHC, ILHC 2011 – solo charleston, ILHC 2011 – strictly lindy, advanced and open and ILHC 2011 – classic division. Do also look for her posts on the inaugural European Swing Dance Championships.]

Dance competitions and policing public space

(tent image from here, police image from here)

I’m really interested in the discussion of official versus community policing of public space in Chris Brown’s article ‘The Occupy Movement and the Battle for Public Space’. One point I took from this was Brown’s juxtaposition of the formal, highly ordered occupation of public space by the police and ‘official’ entities with the informal, collaborative and negotiated management of public space by community groups. I think that both types of management of public space happen in all sorts of communities, and that they’re really just two points on a broad spectrum of behaviours. I want to spend the rest of this post taking this idea and applying it to dance competitions. Competitions which can be at once ‘officially’ managed public spaces and also collaborative or informally managed public spaces. At the same time!

I’ve always been interested in the way dancers regulate the social dance floor (which I’ve always thought of as ‘public space’ or public discourse). One of my favourite topics is derision dance. Or using dance to deride someone (using the dictionary definition “contemptuous ridicule or mockery”). This can be as simple as directing a crude gesture to your opponent, but it is often more complex, involving layers of imitation, impersonation and subtler mockery. This last type is what really fascinates me. I wrote about derision dance and layers of meaning in what again?! I’m still crapping on about dance, power, etc; I used derision as a tool for understanding blackface in blackfaces and performing identity. again. (again using the idea of layers); and I talked about cake walk as an example of derision in hot and cool.

I keep coming back to the idea of dance as a forum or tool for deriding or subverting authority or an opponent because it’s a contribution to public discourse which doesn’t use words. I get a bit frustrated with work on public discourse which prioritises the written word, as there are all sorts of dodgyarse power dynamics happening there. Not all of us have literacy and linguistic competency on our side; class and race and ethnicity are pretty important factors here.

Of course, I’m not alone in talking about bodies in public space. That’s why I like that Chris Brown article. It describes the way non-verbal occupation of public space is regulated by official and community powers. When I think about dancers regulating the public space of the dance floor, I think about official ‘laws’ or guidelines like a sign forbidding aerials in a particular room for safety or heritage-building reasons. Or a more experienced or authoritative dancer telling an idiot lead to stop tossing follows into the air. But I’m also quite interested in the unspoken, unofficial and less overt management of public space in dance communities. It’s a little too far along the spectrum to ‘official’ to really illustrate my thoughts, but I want to begin with (and probably end with – as I’m off to the beach in a tick) dance competitions.

I’ve just been watching this clip from the studio we use of ‘The Crossover Popping Battle – Finals’:

There are all sorts of cool things to say about the way the studio uses Youtube and faceplant, where I found the clip, and which is so central to the studio’s promotional and community development work. But I’m not going to do that here. I want to start with the dancing itself.

… suddenly, I’m realising that this might be beyond me right this second. I want to do a close textual analysis of what is happening on the dance floor. There’s lots to be said about the mise en scene of the film itself as well. I think this type of close analysis of the dance-as-public-text requires a certain about of specialised knowledge. If you can’t read bodies as a dancer, you can’t really understand the power plays. More specifically, if you can’t read popping, you can’t really understand who’s the more proficient dancer, the intertextual and historic references in each movement, the etiquette for this sort of battle type competition. To add a few extra layers of meaning, this is a battle hosted by one particular dance studio, so you’ll see institution-specific action and ideology at work here. Not to mention the fact that these kids are from all across Asia, speaking a number of different languages as well as English. I’m a white Anglo-celtic girl living in Sydney and I only speak English. I’m going to miss most of the more nuanced physical gestures and postural moments. So my analysis is really only a beginning place, and I couldn’t possibly see all the detail at work here, least of all because I’m not into popping.

This is a pretty important point. I can’t see all the regulation and management of this public place – this moment of discourse – at work here. So I’d be bound to make mistakes. But because I am a babby, I’d probably be excused quite a few mistakes. So long as my participation improved. These guys are really friendly and welcoming, and I know I’d be cut a fair bit of slack. But eventually, even the most tolerant teachers and peers lose patience with social ineptitude and rudeness in a public forum.
Interestingly, the dancers at this studio encourage new dancers to enter battles almost from the very beginning. I’ve sat in on a casual battle, and a lot of leeway is granted for new dancers. In contrast, there’s a real sense in Australian lindy hop that only the ‘best’ dancers enter competitions, unless the competitions are for ‘up and comers’ or ‘amateurs’. Of course, definitions of ‘best’ vary between cities, and don’t match up comparatively. And, really, the most successful dancers have a very strong sense of self worth and faith in their own abilities. They really believe they are – if not the best dancers – in with a shot at becoming the best. That’s just how competition works. If you don’t really believe you have a chance, you won’t work hard in preparation, you won’t devote time and effort to the project, and you won’t bring your A-game in the final moment.
So this means that we don’t see lindy hoppers developing performance and competition skills in a relaxed, welcoming and informal setting as very new dancers. I’ve noticed the dancers at Crossover develop a real sense of self-awareness and understanding of lines and visual presentation far earlier than most lindy hoppers. They work with mirrors right from the get-go. They spend a lot more time looking up and making eye contact (particularly in battles). In brief, ‘their movements go right to the end of their finger tips’, whereas a lot of lindy hoppers don’t even really know they have hands.

So, when you go to a battle with these guys, there’s rarely an explanation of the ‘rules’, beyond the very basics. This confused me when I first saw them in action. How was judging decided? How long did dancers have to perform? How did they decide who danced in what order? You’ll find rules for competitions on websites before the event, but mostly you just have to figure them out. And of course you won’t be in the competition if you haven’t at least acquired even that much cultural knowledge.
The same sort of thing happens with lindy hop competitions. Though most of the more popular recent comps have far more implied than stated rules. In fact, there was a conscious movement away from prescriptive rules in the US at some point in the early 2000s (I can’t really remember the details, sorry). Most Australian competitions followed this American trend largely as following a trend (rather than as a critical engagement with existing competition culture) a few years later. The exception is Hellzapoppin’, which was deliberately developed as a lindy hopper-run and regulated competition advertised as having ‘no rules’. Though of course it does have rules, and these are listed quite clearly.

These rules are just a little different to other more prescriptive events like the ASDC and rock n roll or ballroom competitions. The inaugural Western Sydney Swing Dance Competition had quite strict, ballroom/rock r roll type rules, but I found it really difficult to discover much about the competition beyond this flyer. I ended up messaging the organisers on faceplant to find out more, then had a fairly long list of rules emailed to me as a pdf (which you can have a look at here). I found these rules really difficult to understand, in part because I’ve done very little competition, but also because I’m not a part of the rock n roll or ballroom dance scenes, which are far more tightly structured and formally organised than the lindy hop scene. I simply don’t have the language tools or cultural knowledge to navigate this sort of text.
The Crossover competition, though, is far more familiar. Rules for larger battles are often discussed in an informal way on faceplant, but more usually discussed in person. But learning the rules of competitions is more a matter of enculturation. The competitive space is as highly regulated as the WSDC, it’s just that the regulation is managed in a different way.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the past analysing lindy hop competition footage in close detail (‘lindy hop followers bring themSELVES to the dance; lindy hop leaders value this’ is probably the best example of how I approach this). It’s a very common practice for most lindy hoppers, and learning how to read dance (whether in footage or in person) is an ongoing process. Dancers are also on the lookout for different things. Leaders and followers often read a dance clip in quite different ways. I look for gender stuff. Someone else might be looking at shoe types. A DJ might be listening for new songs.

I’m going to get completely off-track here with a reference to a very famous dance clip.
This is a still from the Big Apple scene from Keep Punchin, featuring the Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers:

I’ve heard (second-hand, unfortunately), that Frankie Manning described this scene as a dance competition. In fact, the MC in the film introduces it as “The Big Apple contest”. Frankie explained that not only were couples competing against each other, but that individual partners were competing against each other. I’m not sure whether I’ve gotten that story right – it does come to be second-hand. But it’s an interesting idea. Competitors are working in pairs, focussing their performance on each other, as well as on those around them.
This is a bit like the Crossover battles (as far as I can tell – I’m not 100% sure about this next bit). In these battles competitors may enter as teams of two, but they dance alone, focussing their attentions on a particular member of the opposing team. There’s lots to say about focussed competition, and about how dancers in these battles turn their aggressive (yet never violent) competition on when they begin dancing, and then off when they move off the floor. I’m particularly fascinated by the way the non-dancing team member stands in a decidedly ‘I’m not dancing’ pose; they turn off their competitive dance energy, often by not making eye contact with their opponents. That’s some pretty basic non-threatening body language right there.

Right, back on-track, now…

It was quite interesting to see the new competition format for the Harlem 2011. Solo Jazz Contest held in Lithuania. It looks a lot more like the Crossover popping battle than other solo jazz comps in the lindy hop scene. How?
Firstly, here are some screenshots from those clips to illustrate my points:


(Harlem 2011, one of the rounds)


(Crossover popping battle, final)

  • The three people sitting in the middle at the back are the three judges. We see this in the Crossover battle. They don’t write things down or discuss the competitors in detail, they just point to the dancer they think should win (or cross their arms to indicate indecision). In every other lindy hop competition the judges walk around the floor with clipboards, staring intently at competitors and writing things down before going out to another room to discuss the competition and arrive at a collaborative (or comparative) decision. Sometimes there’s an audience appreciation component. ULHS has a very strong audience appreciation component.
  • Competitors can dance as long as they like to the song before ceding the floor to their competitor. This is very unlike most other competitions in the lindy hop scene. The ASDC gives each couple one minute from the beginning of a recorded song to do their thing, followed (or preceded) by an ‘all-skate’ where they share the floor with other dancers. The more organic ‘jam format’ gives dancers a phrase (or two) of music each, and each couple or dancer must enter and leave the floor at the beginning/end of that phrase. Failing to do so is read as a failure in basic musicality. The Crossover format assumes that a dancer will dance for as long as they need to bring their best shit. Failing to cede the floor is perceived as a failure to judge their audience, the tone of the competition, and a display of egotism. This is where my understanding of the format ends – I don’t know how dancers know when they should bow out, or when everyone knows too much is too much. This format was also used by the Harlem 2011 competition, and it’s interesting to watch all the clips and see how competitors, audiences, judges and MC negotiate an understanding of these rules. Collaborative meaning making or what?!
  • Audiences cheer and yell out and otherwise engage with competitors, indicating their approval, admiration, disappointment, awe and so on. This participation is often very important for a dancer making a joke, referencing an historic or iconic move or dancer, or engaging in a little derision, mockery or impersonation. Dancers are focussed on their opponents, but they rely on the audience audibly signaling their engagement with the performance. This all means that the best audiences for these sorts of competitions are also dancers.

There’s so much more to say about this. I’d like to go through and carefully analyse what’s going on in the Crossover clip, and to compare it with various lindy hop and solo clips. There are interesting things to say about the placement of DJs in the competitive space. Or how competitors in a pro or invited jack and jill comp sit in a line at the back of the competition space (they are often actually formally judging each other). This demands comparison with the way lindy hop couples line up in order along the back of the competition space waiting to enter the jam, and are far more actively engaged with the dancers currently on display. And of course, I want to talk about the way the competition space is delineated by these lines of competitors, by the audience, by lighting, by the dance floor itself.
All of these things relate to how the physical competition space is regulated and negotiated by the community, and also by official forces. The ultimate authority is the individual or organisation running the competition. Yet one of the greatest delights in watching street dance (or vernacular dance) competitions is waiting for the moments where rules and authority are deliberately contravened, or at least stretched. When judges request a rematch. When competitors physically touch each other (forbidden!) When competitors touch the audience (doubly forbidden!)

I’d also like to talk about how conversation is managed, both formally and informally. There’s lots of lovely stuff written about all-male and all-female conversation and how formal turn taking dominates all-male talk and interrupting and collaborative meaning making (eg women saying ‘oh no!’ and nodding or saying ‘yes’ regularly interrupt but do not disrupt the speaker) characterises informal all-women talk. I think of dance as discourse, and occasionally use this idea of dance as conversation to explore dance as discourse. It’s not a unique idea – dance teachers use this idea all the time. But while I might have begun thinking of dance partnership in particular as conversation with formal turn taking, I’m now a lot more interested in a model of high level partner dancing as more like collaborative, overlapping conversation. And of course, I extend this idea to include jazz music, with its sections of structured unison, its layers of individual, interrupting parts, and its moments of solo improvisation. I probably like New Orleans stuff because it favours layers of improvisation instead of carefully choreographed unison and demarcated solos.

But enough! I must swim!

zoot suit riot (riot)

All that talk about neo swing in that last blog post has had me thinking about zoot suits.

There’s lots of bullshit ‘scholarship’ around about zoot suits. The best thing I’ve ever read about them was a book chapter called “The Right to the City in Los Angeles: Discourse and Practice of a Chicano Alternative Public Sphere” by Raul H. Villa in the book Masses, classes and the public sphere edited by Mike Hill and Warren Montag (2000) (on Google Books).

One of the worst things I’ve ever read was Stuart Cosgrove’s article “The Zoot Suit and Style Warfare” in Angela McRobbie’s edited collection Zoot Suits and Second-Hand Dresses: An Anthology of Fashion and Music (1989). I know it’s a bit of a big call, picking on Cosgrove. But that article is wrongity wrongtown. In so many ways. I haven’t read it in a while, though, so I could be completely mistaken. I just remember it being scarily inaccurate. McRobbie’s talk about second hand dresses in the 80s is a lot more useful.

What is a zoot suit?
This article ‘The Zoot Suit Riots’ (from Manong: The Story of Raymond G. Perla
Photographs and storys from the Manong Generation) isn’t such a bad place to start for a description of the actual item of clothing. Basically, they were really big suits, using lots of fabric, which were popular with some latino/chicano youth in Los Angeles during the second world war. Using lots of fabric was kind of shocking in a time of wartime austerity. Of course, race and ethnicity are the most important parts of this story.

What did a zoot suit look like?

This is a picture of Edward James Olmos in the 1981 film film Zoot Suit:

That film was strange sort of musical. You can find interesting bits of it on Youtube – search. But that’s an 80s version of the zoot suit. Here’s a cool photo of some bloke with Katherine Dunham in 1943. He’s not wearing a zoot suit, but he’s in a pose which looks a lot like a ‘pimp walk’, a key jazz step associated with zoot suits, pimps and swaggering cool. He may have mad skills and be super cool, but he’s not wearing a zoot suit.

Here’s a funny photo of Spike Lee (left) and Denzel Washington (right) in Lee’s 1992 film Malcolm X:

Even better, watch them strutting, pimp-walk style in one of the early scenes of the film here. Malcolm X’s autobiography has some interesting things to say about young black American men and zoot suits. Spike Lee’s film is interesting because so many hardcore totally legit and awesome lindy hoppers were involved in its production, including Frankie Manning and Norma Miller. The dance scene from the film was really influential in the burgeoning swing dance scene at the time. Enjoy the dubbing:

linky

Lee specifically intended to have the film pay homage to the greatest lindy hoppers of the original period: the Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers, Frankie Manning, Norma Mmiller and so on. The dance scene from Malcolm X itself echoes iconic music and dance film sequences from the original swing era. You have only to compare that dance scene with the Jitterbug Contest from Keep Punchin’.

…but anyway, I was talking about zoot suits. Yeah, yeah, Malcolm X is good stuff. But it’s not really getting to the heart of the matter. Where are those Chicanos Villa talks about his fascinating story about Los Angeles?

That’s Cab Calloway. But by the time this photo was taken, he was majorly famous. So he’s not really representing subversive public spheres… or is he? Look, I can’t really explore that here, but it’s worth thinking about Cab Calloway, ethnicity, race, the Cotton Club and performing identity.


That’s a picture of Mexican star Tin Tan in 1945. I found it here on this interesting page about zoot suits. That page is actually part of a research guide discussing the play and film Zoot Suit. The play Zoot Suit premiered in LA in 1978 and was released as a film in 1981, “the first Chicano written, performed and directed feature length film in history” (to quote the site).

It’s also interesting to read Ephemeral New York blog post about vintage clothes in New York in the 80s. Forties and thirties fashion was kind of getting a reboot in the 80s (you can see it a bit in films like Desperately Seeking Susan and Pretty in Pink).

Wait. What has all this got to do with lindy hop today. WHY are the white ‘swing dancers’ in Sydney STILL wearing zoot suits?

Ok, so it’s the 80s, right. You’ve looked at that stuff I’ve just linked. Now, in the 80s, lindy hop starts getting a bit of a revival. Young American, British and European (Sweden!) dancers start hunting down living dancers from the 30s and 40s. You can watch a really cool interview with Al Minns, where he talks about the Swedes’ approaching him. In 1989 the band Royal Crown Revue is formed by Eddie Nichols, punk and son of a jazz singer.

Neo swing is getting started. It has its roots in punk, ska, rock and roll. That’s where I remember it starting – my friends’ punk bands were support acts for visiting American bands like Royal Crown Revue, Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, Brian Setzer, Squirrel Nut Zippers, etc etc etc.

Ok, now it’s the 1990s. The film Swing Kids is released in 1993, Swingers in 1996. Lindy hop has gone mainstream. At least in America. In 1998 Gap release this ad for khakis. If Gap are using swing dancing for ads, you know it’s mainstream. I start dancing lindy hop in Brisbane in 1998, only a little while after classes started there. But it’d been in Sydney for a little while already. It’d only just started happening in Melbourne. We have the rock n roll and latin dance scenes to blame for lindy hop’s popularity in Sydney and Melbourne, and the influence of immigrant Brits.

Yeah, yeah, ZOOT SUITS?!

In 1997 the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies release a song called ‘Zoot Suit Riot’. It supposedly has something to do with the zoot suit riots.

linky

Who’s your daddy? Yes I am.

I’m sure LA lindy hoppers watching that video can see lots of famous names and people. But when I watch that clip, all I can hear is the song, and all I can see is the first dance performance I did in public. ARGH. MY EARS.
And at the time, all those bright suits and big hats and black and white shoes had indy cred. That stuff was cool.

[EDIT: This is one of a number of loosely-associated posts about music in Sydney lindy hop today. This list includes:

]

[Edit 18/11/11: A nice little article about a Vintage Zoot Suit Auctioned for nearly $80K was posted to Yehoodi this week.]

‘Swing dancing’ and lindy hop in Sydney: an exercise in speculative fiction

This is a story about live music in Sydney, and how lindy hoppers and swing dancers use it and find it. I’m really going only on anecdotal evidence, backed up by my own supposition and thinking. I don’t have a lot of hardcore facts about the history of Sydney lindy hop to back me up. So I’ve tried to avoid talking about anything besides the 2008-2011 period, and to keep my comments about stuff I don’t know anything about to a minimum.

Sydney’s swing dancers like live music.

Perhaps the most important factor in attracting a dancing crowd to a live music gig is a sympathetic venue. This means venues actually letting dancers dance, and then understanding that they can cater to both dancing tight-arse dancers and drinking, non-dancing punters. The Unity Hall Hotel always hosts a group of dancers on Sunday. The Camelot Lounge hosts some of the best live jazz in Sydney (from interstate and local artists). Venue 505 has initiated its own dancer-centred gigs showcasing some astonishingly good Sydney musicians. The Sydney Festival always attracts a zillion dancers, particular events like the Trocadero Dance Palace and Spiegeltent. In contrast, while the Sydney Jazz Club hosts some of the finest jazz bands in the country (and from overseas), it uses venues with smaller dance floors, rubbish food and lame, ‘old people’ vibes. RSLs. Outdoor parks. Yacht club function rooms midday and mid-week.

Our live jazz music (music suitable for lindy hop or ball or blues or whatevs) scene is healthy: lots of good bands, made up of jazznick elder statesmen and young guns. The older jazznicks largely cater to a rapidly aging jazz fan base, neglecting a potentially lucrative market. This is a shame, as Sydney is home to some of the country’s finest (older) musicians. I can go on and on and on about the Ozcats. Or the Unity Hall Jazz band. But these musicians and bands have a weak online presence, relying on face to face promotion, flyer drops at events, local radio announcements and the powerful Sydney Jazz Club old school social network: word of mouth. Nanna power. Sydney lindy hoppers use a combination of online talk (mostly through faceplant) and face to face talk to decide which bands to go see and when.


(The Cope Street Parade)

Younger jazz bands and musicians – many of whom have been associated with the Sydney Conservatorium of Music – are an interesting group. They’ve made good use of online tools. They have faceplant pages, myspace pages, a presence on sites like Reverb Nation, their own websites and occasionally twitter accounts. Faceplant is by far the most influential of these tools, but really only in concert with other media (a solid website or myspace page, soundclips or videos on faceplant itself). A group of these younger musicians are involved in a number of bands showcasing different types of early 20th century American folk music – from sacred singers (you can find the Surry Hills Sacred Harp Singers on faceplant) to bluegrass and hot jazz combos. They’re also launching a record label, Yum Yum Tree Records.
These musicians have strong relationships with younger lindy hoppers who travel or who are otherwise plugged into the modern lindy hopping world, via faceplant, youtube and other online social media. The Cope Street Parade has a core group of keen dancers following them to their (pretty much) weekly gigs. Cope Street’s popularity can no doubt be attributed to their musical style. They have much in common with popular American ‘street jazz’ bands like the Careless Lovers, Smoking Time Jazz Club, the massively popular Tuba Skinny and The Loose Marbles. This sort of music has been hugely popular with American and European lindy hoppers lately, and many of the younger Sydney dancers in particular are on board with this trend.


(image lifted from this site)

Pugsley Buzzard also has a keen fan base. His month long residency earlier in 2011 at The Mac in Surry Hills attracted dancers even with only a carpeted space for dancing. He’s also performed at the Sydney Lindy Exchange a few times, is booked in for the Sydney Swing Patrol christmas party next week, and has played for dancers at Canberrang this year. He is, sadly, relocating to Melbourne.


(The Velvet Set)

This brings me to the neo swing or ‘swing’ bands which cater to a slightly different audience. Bands like the The Velvet Set offer neo swing and crooner jazz rather than proper swing, but are very popular with ‘swing dancing’ crowd, some lindy hoppers and the rock n roll crowd. That’s what I want to talk about, but I think I need to talk a bit more about Sydney lindy hop and swing dancing demographics first.

I wonder if Sydney’s interest in live music is in part an indication of some of the troubles this scene has had over the last two four years. Sydney is an old scene – the oldest in Australia, founded in the mid 1990s or so. But its numbers and cultural complexity have fluctuated. Numbers had been down, with more experienced hardcore lindy hop dancers suffering some teaching fatigue and newer dancers not sticking around til they become hardcore. But our numbers have picked up in the last year. This means that Sydney is essentially a ‘newer’ scene and an older scene: a mix of very enthusiastic newer dancers and experienced dancers in a range of age groups.
It’s really not been until the last couple of years that we’ve seen Sydney dancers traveling to interstate events in significant numbers, though they have always travelled overseas, often in quite large numbers. There’s always been one or two or a handful at interstate events, but the last two years in particular have seen whole squads traveling to Melbourne, Perth, Adelaide, Canberra. All this travel within Australia has seen personal relationships developing between Sydney and interstate dancers. Relationships fostered by faceplant in a really important way: this is where people share videos and email addresses, encourage each other to visit again and finally get to talk to people they’ve only danced with. Interstate travel has also been important for making Sydney dancers aware of the limitations of their very small pond. They may be big fish at home, but they’re meeting and seeing and dancing with some much larger fish from much larger ponds. This sudden reality check can break a dancer’s confidence, but it can also spur a sudden interest in improving dancing skills. Competitions are, once again, a space where these sorts of realisations occur.

There are three (or four – I’m not sure exactly; the western suburbs are a mystery to me) major teaching entities in Sydney, and there isn’t a whole lot of interaction between all the schools. Two of these schools, catering for inner city and inner suburb areas – have plenty of students in common, which I think is a really good thing. If you provide diverse learning environments for students, you stimulate their interests and you create a market for mo social dancing and mo classes. Win! Only these two schools run DJed social dancing nights and have a real connection with other cities’ scenes and large events. The other schools are quite isolated, in terms of international lindy hopping culture, and I think this has had a detrimental effect on their dance skills and (dare I say it) musical taste.

But to get back to the whole neo swing thing, Sydney overall has a much stronger link with neo swing and rock n roll than Melbourne or other cities. There’s a hardcore lindy hopping/balboa crowd, but there’s an even larger group of dancers who are often older, began dancing in the 90s, or have much stronger links with rock n roll dancing and music. Many of the people guys often think of themselves as ‘swing dancers’ or ‘doing swing dance’, but I wouldn’t call them lindy hoppers. They may take the odd ‘swing dance’ class from lindy hoppers, but their first love is rock n roll (or rockabilly)
The younger ones are a lot more interested in looking good than the average lindy hopper. Many of them have stronger links with the goth or hardcore vintage fashion scene than with a dance scene. Dancing might be part of their social lives, but only part. Lindy hop tends to absorb your whole life, to become your lifestyle. This ‘swing’/rock n roll crowd have hardcore retro/vintage outfits, ride or drive vintage motorbikes or cars, and bring much more money to the bar. I suspect that their interest in looking good impedes their dancing ability. Rock n roll is easier than lindy hop, and guys can stand around looking good while they manhandle their (ALWAYS female) partners through endless spins. I am being quite harsh here, but while they look very good, this scene is not really all that when it comes to mad dance skills. Although, if you’re looking for a hot partner for a quick shag, this is a much better place to look than your average lindy hop scene.

The best attended live music events are in that neo swing/rock n roll vein.

This Swing V Rockabilly poster is a good example of the sorts of things I’m trying to explain. The ‘swing’ guy in this poster (on the left) is what I associate with late 90s lindy hop – zoot suits, black and white shoes, wallet chains, hats. Very Hey-Pachuco! It kind of makes me cringe, because I associate it with the scene when I started dancing in Brisbane, and which I tend to associate with the neo swing scene, which was much more closely linked to ska and punk than jazz. Sure, it’s lots of fun – it was lots of fun – but the dancing was a bit rubbish, and it’s a bit dated. Lindy hoppers kind of got game these days.

Hardcore badass top shelf lindy hoppers look a bit more like this:

This is a photo by Bobby Bonsey, which I found here. He’s taken some really lovely photos of dancers. He’s also a badarse dancer. I particularly like this one of Chance and Giselle competing. I think that Bobby’s photos really capture the feel of American lindy hop today, which is much more athletic and physically exciting than 1990s Australian lindy hop. Lindy hoppers today look a lot more like the Whitey’s lindy hoppers – sinewy, fit, athletic. Like long distance runners or gymnasts. They wear form-fitting clothes that won’t impede their speed. They’re a long way from the zoot suits and silly cheap black and white shoes of the 1990s. And the ‘swing dance’ scene of Sydney today.

When I look at that ‘swing v rockabilly’ poster, I wouldn’t count any of those bands as ‘good lindy hopping bands’. They’re really rock and roll bands, but with mo brass. Most of them are quite good bands – lots of fun, lots of energy, good live shows. But not as musically accomplished as bands like Glenn Crytzer’s Blue Rhythm band. Crytzer’s band combines the exciting, rough-edged ‘authenticity’ of street jazz (and Meschiya Lake contributes in a big way to that feel in this clip) with solidly ‘authentic’ hot jazz instrumentation, arrangements and feeling. Here, let me show you what I mean:

linky

This band feels like a real progresion – musically, technically, stylistically – from what’s been popular with dancers lately. Old school music and dancing. Street jazz ‘honesty’ and emotion. Exciting, committed musicians really connecting with dancers. Crytzer’s been engaged with the lindy hop scene in a big way (I’ve written about this before in Bands For Dancing), and his band is really top notch, swinging hot jazz. Also: uber exciting fun.

In contrast the Velvet Set are trotting out almost exactly the same set lists as swing DJs were playing twenty years ago. Crooners. Covers of ages-old neo swing songs. I don’t particularly like neo swing for lindy hop (because it doesn’t swing, and because it’s a bit naff), but I respect neo swing bands writing their own songs, improving their skills and really bringing their best to music they love. Here, check it out:

linky

I don’t mean to badmouth the Velvet Set. They really are filling a niche in the market – there are plenty of dancers in Sydney who really like this stuff. They like the crooners, the covers of neo songs. Either because they were there in the 90s when this was the swing scene (this 2001 clip kind of gives you an idea of that scene), or because it moves them now. I think neo swing is accessible for many dancers – especially those from the rock n roll scene and new to lindy hop – because it’s a lot more like modern rock music and a lot less like proper swinging jazz. Swinging rhythms and hot jazz can be quite alien for new dancers, and neo swing has a clear, unswinging beat that sounds a lot safer. And people really like that pin-striped, zoot suit look.


(img lifted from this 1944 newsreel)

This is quite interesting, because 1930s and 40s Australia really didn’t have the sort of ‘pure’ lindy hop culture that the US did. The sort of dancing these modern ‘swing dancers’ do, with its emphasis on 6-count steps like pass-bys, under-arm turns and so on (rather than the swingouts and more varied, complex counts and rhythms of lindy hop) actually look a lot more like the ‘swing dancers’ of the 1940s in this 1944 newsreel (thanks to Bobby White for reminding me of this).

This means that we nerds harping on about lindy hop – Harlem or LA – style, are actually less historically accurate (for our geography) than the ‘swing dancers’ at the Swing v Rockabilly gig. But then, a bunch of modern day middle class Sydney kids pretending to be working class black New York kids from the 30s is kind of dodgy, historically (and ideologically) speaking anyway.

To sum all that up, we’re looking at two different ‘swing dancing’ cultures in Sydney, the lindy hop one and the one more closely associated with rock n roll and neo swing. There’s lots of cross-pollination (usually lindy hoppers visiting ‘swing dance’ events), but they are distinct musical and dancing styles, and overall equate to a large Sydney dance scene which has always had strong links to the live music scene. It’s just that only one really gets into 1930s and 40s swinging jazz music. And that other likes it with a backbeat and a well-stocked bar. All this means that Sydney has a labouring DJing culture, a scene obsessed with live music, and lots and lots of social dancing nights – run by dancers and by local venues putting on bands.

Sydney’s interest in live music also means that we’ll turn out in force for visiting musicians from interstate or overseas. And by force, I mean a few hundred dancers – both hardcore lindy hoppers and ‘swing dancers’ of the more rock and roll variety. Sydney is a great town for live music, and that has bled into the dancing community, something that didn’t really happen in Melbourne, for instance, until very recently.

I might not be a fan of neo swing, but I do realise that having a vibrant partner dancing scene is a very good thing for lindy hop. And an interest in live music is good for musicians, and good for dancing.

[Edit: if you’re still struggling with the zoot suit thing, I wrote a post called zoot suit riot (riot) about it.]

[EDIT: This is one of a number of loosely-associated posts about music in Sydney lindy hop today. This list includes:

]