Home of Happy Feet...and French Canadian Ninjas
The Savoy Ballroom, once a mecca for lindy hoppers, and formerly about six miles north of where I now sit, used to be known as "the home of happy feet." Sugar Sullivan says it didn't matter if you were black or white at the Savoy. Once you climbed those stairs, only one thing mattered: can you dance?
Last night and today I danced with guys from Australia, Hawaii, Ukraine, Korea, and Montreal. There are people in the ballrooms and classrooms speaking Swedish, French, German, Japanese, Russian, and what I believe may have been Urdu. On the dance floor, we are not white or black, Asian or Latino, Christian or Muslim or Pagan or Jew. Only one thing matters.
I went to a class this morning called "Ninja Technique for Lindy Hop." There are no class descriptions either in the printed program or on the web site, so the only way to find out what that meant was to show up. The French-Canadian instructors are members of a dance troupe who call themselves "The Ninjammerz," and this turned out to be some of their techniques and moves. It was a useful class, a lot about mixing up your six- and eight-count moves, and how to lead the changes clearly.
However, because this is a major world-class event, and it's assumed everyone knows how to dance, there is no beginner level class track. Hence, this class was listed, and taught, as "intermediate," which meant that for the less experienced dancers present, it was the only game in town. What that meant for me was a bunch of leads who were less than sure about leading, and had a hard time following the class. So I took my inflated sense of my own dance level back downtown to the classroom where the "intermediate/advanced" level classes were being held, and learned some of "Nick and Carla's Favorite Things." Now, I'd never met Nick and Carla, so I wasn't sure I wanted to know what their favorite things were, but again, no class description, so I had to check it out for myself. It was a moves class, not my favorite thing in the world, plus I was starving by this time (despite a wrap sandwich for brunch and a snack of fresh fruit), so I dropped out after a bit and went out for a milkshake.
Time now for a shower and collapse until tonight's dance. (There's another class this afternoon, but I know my limits.) It's the big night tonight--performances, competitions, the Frankie95 worldwide choreography, which I've been busting my ass to learn. It's a swank formal gala--the words "black tie" have been dropped. But we all know, no matter how well-dressed you are, only one thing really matters:
Can you dance?
Last night and today I danced with guys from Australia, Hawaii, Ukraine, Korea, and Montreal. There are people in the ballrooms and classrooms speaking Swedish, French, German, Japanese, Russian, and what I believe may have been Urdu. On the dance floor, we are not white or black, Asian or Latino, Christian or Muslim or Pagan or Jew. Only one thing matters.
I went to a class this morning called "Ninja Technique for Lindy Hop." There are no class descriptions either in the printed program or on the web site, so the only way to find out what that meant was to show up. The French-Canadian instructors are members of a dance troupe who call themselves "The Ninjammerz," and this turned out to be some of their techniques and moves. It was a useful class, a lot about mixing up your six- and eight-count moves, and how to lead the changes clearly.
However, because this is a major world-class event, and it's assumed everyone knows how to dance, there is no beginner level class track. Hence, this class was listed, and taught, as "intermediate," which meant that for the less experienced dancers present, it was the only game in town. What that meant for me was a bunch of leads who were less than sure about leading, and had a hard time following the class. So I took my inflated sense of my own dance level back downtown to the classroom where the "intermediate/advanced" level classes were being held, and learned some of "Nick and Carla's Favorite Things." Now, I'd never met Nick and Carla, so I wasn't sure I wanted to know what their favorite things were, but again, no class description, so I had to check it out for myself. It was a moves class, not my favorite thing in the world, plus I was starving by this time (despite a wrap sandwich for brunch and a snack of fresh fruit), so I dropped out after a bit and went out for a milkshake.
Time now for a shower and collapse until tonight's dance. (There's another class this afternoon, but I know my limits.) It's the big night tonight--performances, competitions, the Frankie95 worldwide choreography, which I've been busting my ass to learn. It's a swank formal gala--the words "black tie" have been dropped. But we all know, no matter how well-dressed you are, only one thing really matters:
Can you dance?