Layers of musicality

When I explain the abstract term “musicality” to my students, I usually break it down into three nested layers:

General feeling of the song. Is this a slow, drippy song, or a fast, sharp song, or a groovy, mid-tempo song? This level of musicality will determine the overall shape and styling of the dance.
Phrasing. What is the structure of the song and how does your dance reflect that? This manifests itself in the way we distinguish one phrase from the next, and how we note the change to a new phrase.
Texture. Where are the accents? Where are the drawn out notes? What are the lyrics doing? What’s happening with the rhythm and where are the riffs? This is the detailed level of musicality.

I find a lot of dancers get good at the texture dancing – using syncopations and patterns to texture their movements – but many don’t learn to mix that into a broader framework of structure and feeling.

How do you think about musicality? How do you capture as much of what you’re hearing into your dancing? And if you teach, how do you approach the subject? What exercises do you use to help your students to hear the music and be musical?

Shades of Gray

A minor controversy erupted last week as a member of the dance community, one who had been publicly expressing her opinion for some time, distributed an email that included some harsh criticisms of performances at the US Open. Those who were criticized, as well as their friends and supporters, spoke out against this person, attacking both her opinions and her character.

I don’t agree with what this person said, and I certainly don’t condone the way she said it. But the voracity with which people responded to her criticisms gave me pause. Yes, we need to state our opinions – whether popular or not (and especially if not) – with respect, humility, and an open mind to other viewpoints, but at the same time, whether we like them or not, I believe we should also exhibit tolerance and acceptance and allow dissenting or unpopular opinions.

The fact is that we are a community of diverse people, and with that goes diverse experiences, diverse perspectives, and diverse opinions. At the same time, we are a community of people who are often passionate about what we do, which means we often have strong opinions. And there are many who in part or in full depend on what we do for a living, which means we are sometimes prone to taking things personally. In the end, though, it’s this diversity of opinions, and the associated passionate discussions that we share about our craft, that keeps this community vibrant and alive and healthy.

I think it’s important to recognize, too, that we are a community built around an art form, and that means that most everything is subjective and there rarely if ever is an absolute right or wrong. I do my best to keep that in mind whenever I teach, and whenever I write these blog posts, and I try to foster an open forum where all opinions are welcome, as long as they are expressed nicely, with respect and an open mind. It’s particularly on my mind when I try to raise hot-button issues like swing content, as I did in my last post.

In our community we have some “experts” or “authorities”: people whose opinions are highly valued. For my part, I greatly respect those who have dedicated their lives to dance and our community, and who have won competitions and earned well-deserved admiration. I think they have a wealth of knowledge and perspective that can grow and enhance our craft, and therefore they deserve to be considered authorities. After all, if a person has been in the community long enough and had enough experiences, it gives that person a stronger foundation on which to build conclusions, and thus tested and validated opinions. But I also think there’s a danger to blindly accepting the opinion of any one expert as the only and absolute truth, especially at the exclusion of differing or even contradictory opinions. What seems right to you does not necessarily make other opinions wrong. (Of course, even the authorities disagree, so how does one choose “the right one” in the first place?) In fact, I find that oftentimes the differing opinions of the experts either complement one another or else are the same idea wrapped in different language.

At the same time, there’s something to be said for people who have some experience, but not so much that they have lost a more objective perspective. We’ve most likely heard the expression “We need a fresh set of eyes” at one point or another. This is a great attitude – a recognition that those who are immersed in something can lose perspective or objectivity – but it is also an attitude which is sometimes adopted up until that “fresh set of eyes” proposes an unpopular idea, at which point it’s easy to say that the person doesn’t have enough experience.

Thinking of our own community, we don’t all have to agree, but I believe we should hear out and respect others’ opinions, no matter what they are or where they come from. We should also present our ideas with respect for others, recognition that there are others who have been around longer and know more, and an open mind that acknowledges that the content of our discussions is frequently if not always subjective.

What do you think? Do you think all opinions are equally valid or are some more valid than others? Do you agree that winning awards makes someone an expert? Are there other ways of becoming an authority? Are there ways to ensure that we do a better job of being open and respectful? What can we do to resolve differences in a more civil manner?

The $64,000 Question

Every few years a controversy erupts in the swing community, something at a competitive event that riles people up and gets everyone talking. That happened once again at this year’s Tampa Bay Classic.

I first heard about this through the grapevine, not long after it happened, and I subsequently read Liza May’s account of what happened. After a few rounds of phone tag, I was finally able to get in touch with someone who was in the room, so I could find out what actually occurred from someone who was there.

I’ll spare you the details, but essentially what happened was that the Showcase couples competed Friday night, and on Saturday, the head judge convened a second judging panel to review video of the routines for swing content. Saturday night the Showcase competitors were called into a special meeting, where they were informed that their routines would likely receive swing content violations at this week’s US Open. Competitors were shocked and concerned, others were appalled and confused, and everyone was upset and angry that the head judge killed the mood of the event.

As a result, a firestorm erupted on Facebook as Mario Robau commented, and then Earl Pingel and Parker Dearborn debated with him about what happened, what it means for the competitors involved, what it means for judging in general, and what it means for the dance and the dance community as a whole.

While pretty shocking, it wasn’t nearly as bad or as severe as reports might have you believe. The Showcase competitors weren’t disqualified at the event, and no one told them they had to change their choreography. From what I heard from Showcase competitors, they were mostly upset that no one provided a clear explanation of what “swing content” is – and therefore what they should do to make sure they have enough of it in their routines.

And that, in my mind, is what this is ultimately all about: swing content. What is it? What is enough of it to call a dance “swing” or not “swing”? And even if you could say how much of it you need for a dance to be “swing”, how would you measure it?

Whether we like it or not, our dance is competition-oriented, meaning that it is competition that both sets the standard and simultaneously pushes the limits of our dance. One could argue that our dance has evolved so rapidly because our community’s top competitors have been seeking new music and new moves that expand our dance. At the same time, others argue that what’s being done is no longer swing – and that brings us back to the definition of “swing.”

I don’t consider myself a swing purist, but I also think that there are some things out there today on our competitive dance floor that aren’t swing. I took one of Mario’s intensives once, and personally, I kinda like how he defines swing. I’m paraphrasing here, but in his intensive he lays out the elements of swing that together make the dance: partnership, a slot, starting with even rhythms and ending with odd rhythms, the connection of the anchor, and a foundation of 6- and 8-count patterns. He then uses the analogy of a table to describe how he sees the dance: swing is the tabletop, held up by several legs – these elements of swing – and while you can remove one or two of them, eventually, if you remove too many, the table collapses and you no longer have swing.

In my mind, there are certain things that are not swing: excessive walking, finger spins, rolling around on the floor. These are not unique to our dance, or even to any dance, and when I see too much of it in competition, I can’t help but roll my eyes and think, “For goodness’ sake: dance!” But there’s a grey space between swing basics and “flash and trash” – where two people are dancing together to the music with some but not all of those key elements of swing – that leaves some of us thrilled by the display of innovation and others disappointed at the degradation of our dance.

The bottom line is that there is no universal definition of swing, and the definition – like the dance itself – is very personal, with each person having their own view. We may get a consensus among an authoritative body of judges, but my guess is that the definition will either be so narrow as to limit creativity and innovation (and thus cause a riot among competitors) or else be so broad that it says nothing (but appeals to everyone). This dance evolves – it originally came about and became its own dance by evolving away from its parent dance, lindy hop – and it will continue to evolve. Maybe a new dance will be born, maybe this dance will cycle back to its origins the way the lindy community did a few years ago when it had its revival, and maybe we’ll just keep pushing the limits of this dance while keeping it rooted in the fundamentals.

I don’t know how this will all play out, but I’m looking forward to seeing it either way.

What about you? How do you define “swing”? How do you feel about the direction of the dance and its “swing content”? Would you like to see more swing in competitions? How much more? Post your comments below.

One more thing: Happy Thanksgiving! And best of luck to those competing at the US Open this weekend!

What is "better dancing"?

Lately I’ve been thinking more about what to teach in order to help my students become better dancers. This, of course, leads to the question: What does “better dancing” mean?

If we think about what “dancing” or “partner dancing” means, I think we can all agree that we want to be someone that everyone enjoys dancing with – someone with whom people feel good dancing, with whom people want to dance again and again. Sure, there’s a lot involved in that – partnership, musicality, technique – but it is a good North Star towards which we can orient our learning. (And also a goal that is both noble and, in some ways, measurable.)

In our effort to become “better dancers” we set lots of different goals for ourselves. It’s good to have goals, both immediate and long-term. In fact, it’s not only good, but I would argue it’s necessary if you want to improve. After all, if you’re not working at getting better, then you’re just doing more of the same, which is only maintaining the status quo. If you want to change something, you have to actively do something about it.

But equally important is knowing what to do to reach our goals, and what to do is wholly dependent on what your goal is. If you know what you’re aiming for, then you can set some concrete long-term goals and determine some specific and immediate steps to get you there.

Sometimes we set broader, long-term goals, like “be really musical” or “be a champion dancer” or, sometimes, “dance like [so-and-so].” Sometimes we work on more specific and immediate goals (which are often suggested by our instructors), like “stand up straighter” or “relax my arm” or “practice this footwork variation.”

Yet I sometimes find that there is a disconnect between our immediate focus and our ultimate goal. As a teacher, I ask students in private lessons what their ultimate goals are, because I believe that should inform the more specific “homework” I give them. For every goal there are certain steps I would recommend to getting there. So if you want to be a better dancer, you should first think about what that means to you.

So, what do you think it means to be a “better dancer”? What are your goals and how do you plan on getting there? What are you working on now and how will that get you towards your goals?

Dancing without soul

Earlier this month, I went to my favorite event, Boogie by the Bay. The reasons I like this event are many, but the most important one is that I always leave the event feeling better about dancing. The event this year was a particularly good refresher for me, shifting my perspective and maybe even my dancing itself.

One thing I particularly enjoyed this year was the music. I tend to really like the DJs at Boogie – not all, admittedly, but most, especially the amazing Beth Bellamy. You can’t please all of the people all of the time, but what I like about her most – other than the fact that I like her taste in music – is that she plays a great variety of music, mixing genre and tempo so that every song is something different from the previous. With such a wide diversity of great music out there, few people explore that range and few do so in a way that keeps you dancing.

I also have to give a shoutout to Arjay Centeno, who very pleasantly surprised me with his set. It was like the “groove and soul” hour, with an amazing mix of soulful songs, new and old. Motown, old soul, classic R&B, modern R&B, neo-soul, top 40 with a beat – it was all good. I talked with several people who expected a faster, more club-heavy experience from Arjay, but loved his mix (and I hope the NextGen committee keeps him for next year!).

But his set, along with much of the music I enjoyed that weekend, made me wonder: Where has the soul gone from our dancing?

I moved to California last year, so maybe it’s just the trend here, but it seems like there’s more and more fast top 40 dance music (and endless covers and remakes of said music) and less blues, classic R&B, Motown, or anything with real soul (as in, deep feeling and emotion). Where’s the Al Green? Aretha Franklin? Sam Cooke? Eric Clapton? Susan Tedeschi? Where is the drippy music, the groovin’ music, the music that is best served with a glass of whiskey, or the music that two people should really only dance to in private?

I’ve written before about the important role music plays in shaping our dance, and this new shift in music has me thinking – and somewhat concerned.

Is it just me? Is it just the places where I dance? Are you guys hearing good blues, soul, and R&B where you live? Do you miss it? Is this just a trend, since fast dance music is popular on the radio? Or is WCS moving in a new indefinite direction?