split weekend - detour to Castro Valley (Facebook 9/23/13)

September 23, 2013 at 4:18pm

The annual Glendi at St. Seraphim's in Santa Rosa is locally famous for food, music, and enthusiastic dancing from across the Balkans.  Edessa was the band this year, so it was very hard to skip Sunday, and detour instead...

...to the Independence Day celebration at Holy Cross Monastery near Castro Valley.  Also food and live music, but a much smaller crowd - and a very different experience, with its own validity and constraints. 

After an introductory announcement in Bulgarian, most everyone headed off towards the church.  A voice passing by said quietly in English, "We're going into the church," and it sounded like an advisory.  No anonymity - we're all in this together.  The flag and its people get blessed.

Such a treat to do pravo and lesno - comparatively simple, and yet perhaps not so simple - with people who genuinely care about the steps, and about the music, too.

 images credit: via Peter Kopralev

dancing at the back of the line (Facebook 12/10/11)

December 10, 2011 at 12:42am

Dancing at the back of the line can be rewarding, but also has responsibilities and pitfalls. 

Last week at the Kolo Festival in SF, I was chastised (mildly), during a dance, for not providing the leader enough room to escape from inside the circle.  I responded knowingly, "Oops, sorry.  I must have spaced-out."

Tonight, at an annual folk dance party in the North Bay, someone decided to rescue the end from me, "because" I had forced the leader outside the circle.  "People like to see the leader waving the handkerchief."  He explained further, "The person at the back of the line is referred to as the 'traffic cop'".  And to prove authority, he added, "I learned that at the Kolo Festival!"

episode 11 - why Bulgarians don't go folk dancing (MySpace 6/03/2009)

This entry was written just prior to the emergence of the current Bulgarian-American folkloric groups, such as Antika Bulgaria in the Bay Area, which teach, practice, and dance according to their own standards and esthetics.  

This also ends the original "Where's the kef?" series on MySpace - additional hunks of material worthy of a full post just didn't emerge.  However,  I have appended some new material at the end that does add a bit of resolution. 

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 11 - why Bulgarians don't go folk dancing
DateCreated	6/3/2009 12:17:00 AM
PostedDate	6/3/2009 12:14:00 AM
Body	Last weekend I drove down to a small Bulgarian "folkloric retreat" in Ben Lomond. Food, wine, campfire, conversation, contemplation - some singing, but this year no instrumental music or dancing. Took a friend from Sebastopol with me. She is an avid folk dancer who particularly enjoys Bulgarian folk dances. On the way down, this friend asked me why the local Bulgarians never come to their folk dance sessions. I suggested that maybe the Bulgarians feel that the folk dancers' way of doing Bulgarian dances "has no soul". She was concerned - and demanded to know whether I had actually heard them say that. On reflection, maybe I hadn't. Perhaps I had just assumed. So I shared her initial question with someone at the retreat. It brought instant recognition and a smile, and comments, such as: The folk dancers way of dancing "feels too artificial," and Americans are "too concerned about doing the steps". Rewind to events in the previous weeks - Theodosii Spassov's Folk Project band, and the Kiril i Methodi celebration, both where most of the attendees were Bulgarians. Specifically the latter, where a middle-aged woman with short hennaed hair mysteriously arrived bearing a loaf of specially prepared bread, and danced solo amid the pravo line offering pieces to the dancers. Later, she led the line - not a virtuosic exhibition, but solid, and with excellent vigor, timing, and joy, and obviously inspired by the music - a perfect model for Americans to learn from. Yet, for many folk dancers, a simple pravo is a beginners' dance, not to be taken seriously, perhaps even boring - and appropriate for plodding through. One more comment from Ben Lomond (paraphrased), "You are not ready for complex dances until you understand how to move in the simple dances". And one more from me: If a group doesn't seem to share their values, why should they want to come join them?

Nonetheless, Bulgarians have often expressed an appreciation for the interest that Americans - and other foreigners - have taken in their culture.  After all, there may be only 8 million of them in the entire world.  And more than one American has heard a Bulgarian say, "Thank you for inspiring us to again take up the culture we had largely put aside as irrelevant".  

Yet as I described above, the way the Bulgarian dances are usually done within the "Balkan Dance" recreational culture does not inspire their participation.  I can recall a brief awkward moment at a Bulgarian event in San Francisco.  When the music started, the Americans present were more ready to dance than the Bulgarians, and quickly lined up and began Racenitsa in the American fashion.  One dancer turned to a Bulgarian lady, opened the line, and invited her to join - a gesture of friendship, and I think also showing that they would feel honored to have her.  The response was so frank it took me by surprise, "Thank you, but this dance means too much to me."

So where do I fit in all this?  Sometimes it's hard to figure that out!  A case in point was at last year's Golden Fest in New York, with a gigantic American-style Racenitsa line, that was especially handicapped by large numbers of enthusiastic but clueless newbies.  No fun for me there, so I hung out in back by myself, moving and enjoying the music.  Eventually I thought, "what the heck," and started doing the American step by myself, shadowing the line.  Almost immediately, WHAM!  A small young woman latched onto my right, and started dancing with me. Her movements had a kind of timing I have long envied, but never quite grasped - so I flipped across, and put her in the lead.  Then she really took off - yes, inspiring, but I could barely match her new vigor.  And then the music ended.  "Where did you learn to dance?," she asked.  "I try to learn from Bulgarians."  She smiled, "That is always the best way.  You are not a high dancer, but you know what you are doing."  

And in that manner, she "put me in my place" - but not at all a bad place to be in - enjoying the music and the dance communally, on its own terms.  In that place, I believe there is room for all of us - even American beginners.   

episode 10 - hopping at the Hopmonk (MySpace 5/11/2009)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 10 - hopping at the Hopmonk
DateCreated	5/11/2009 12:56:00 AM
PostedDate	5/10/2009 2:28:00 AM
Body	Herdelezi Festival 2009... After 8 p.m., Brass Menazeri leads a procession of the multitude from the Vets Hall to the Hopmonk tavern two blocks away - some crew remain at the Hall to clean up. At the tavern, the sets indoors in the "Abbey" are jam-packed and jumping - VIA Romen (Russian Romani), and the Balkan All-Stars (other festival headliners doing southern Balkan Romani). Very different than the daytime crowd - looks like mostly Hopmonk regulars. Typical Balkan band in a bar - it's our music, but it's their scene. They are digging it on their own terms - dancing solo in every way imaginable. Perhaps tonight they sense they are getting the real deal. I'm not eager for solo, but what else can you do in a bar? I'm largely invisible, so I might as well relax, enjoy, and practice my moves. But I also want to interact - I want to line dance - because I'm still too self-conscious to seek out some Balkan-aware dancers and solo in a group with them. However, these kids know how to freely move to music better than I do - why should I impose my line dance trip on their scene? What the heck - so, who do I dance with? All of the few remaining candidates are either sitting it out ("Hi! It doesn't seem like a dance-friendly night, does it?"). Or they are up-front, blissfully writhing away solo with the rest - though in a more culturally appropriate manner. This includes my dance buddy "J" - who I've heard boast she can start a Balkan line even in the most jam-packed 20s-something bar. Late in the evening, I finally get her to lead a line with me (she first). The two of us move from the periphery into the crowd. Old enough to be the parents of most of them - at worst, we expect to be tolerated. Several Balkan dancers spot this first opportunity of the night, and the two of us are no longer making a spectacle by ourselves. But soon I feel that the people on my left are a bit out of sync - and I turn to discover that the line is now mainly composed of the young bar regulars. They actually WANT to do our stuff! Don't know what the appeal was - but can guess that it included a desire for group participation, and perhaps our movements were providing insights into how to groove to this new music. And that's how the remainder of the evening went. We started a line for each tune, using standard Balkan community dancing steps (but with a sharp execution), and they followed along. The only thing missing was hotshot youth leadership - to demonstrate cool moves and the opportunity for showing off and for flirting. If you could add that... Bingo! Modern Balkan dance scene! Next: - ? (might be continued) Previous: episode 9 - the Opa Cupa conundrum Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 9 - the Opa Cupa conundrum (MySpace 5/10/2009)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 9 - the Opa Cupa conundrum
DateCreated	5/10/2009 2:29:00 AM
PostedDate	5/10/2009 2:23:00 AM
Body	Some time earlier this year, I find myself upstairs at the Friday folk dancing, and I hear a familiar piece of music on the audio system. I immediately feel "at home". Seeing my interest, a friend says, "that's Ciganko - very popular, everyone knows how to do it". "Do" it? To me it's a catchy song and instrumental arrangement from the Balkans (Serbia?) - but these people are folk dancers, and are in the habit of associating music with step sequences. Start to play the music, and folk dancers will want to do the familiar associated choreography. Another example is Opa Cupa (pronounced "opa tsupa"). I think it's a great song - they think it's a great dance. Last fall at the so-called Kolo Festival in Sausalito, the band is about to start Opa Cupa. I get into the dance line, and then reconsider. "Are we going to do 'U Shest' or the folk dance 'Opa Cupa'?" U Shest is a widely known Serbian step-pattern that fits this music well, and can acommodate a wide range of ability in the same dance line. "I'm doing the folk dance," says the line leader, so I drop out. She does a fine job. Not hard, but the steps change according to the parts of the musical arrangement. There are enough experienced people in the crowd to support the mis-steps of the newbies, and despite not looking particularly Serbian, the whole thing looks good and comes off pretty well. Fast forward to Herdeljez in Sebastopol last week. The Sonoma Academy high school opens the program with a mixed Bulgarian and Romani set - with Opa Cupa near the end. What is going to happen THIS time? I back out as I see the line is being formed by folk dancers. But this time they have trouble finding the right steps. Another line forms alongside, tries, but also can't seem to find the groove. Most of the Academy kids are in one of these lines - and they seem at a total loss for what to do. Then I notice several Voice of Roma stalwarts have started an U Shest line - yeah! But they back off, likely for the sake of diplomacy. The music sounded pretty good, though. No obvious problem, unless you were watching what was happening with the dancing up front. Later, I heard the back story. VoR had coached the band and the singers, and the rest of the students had been taught... U Shest. Next time you are at a festival, and you hear that the band is going to play Opa Cupa - which dance are YOU gonna do? Next: hopping at the Hopmonk Previous: episode 8 - a Devetorka lesson Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 8 - a Devetorka lesson (MySpace 5/09/2009)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 8 - a Devetorka lesson
DateCreated	5/9/2009 2:07:00 AM
PostedDate	5/9/2009 1:49:00 AM
Body	Another Friday at the international folk dance club weekly session... I'm waiting for "E" to arrive, so we can go downstairs and practice our tupan and kaval music thing. Small turnout this evening, and "B" is about to start teaching. An amazing person. She is far older than most everyone, yet still youthfully light in step, an excellent dancer, a joyous dancer, and a very good teacher. On the blackboard are the dances to be taught. Among them "Devetorka". From the name, it's Bulgarian or Macedonian to a nine-beat rhythm. Do I know it? "B" obliges by playing the record cut she will use, and then demos the basic step and a couple of variations. Ah, yes. The basic step is a common nine-beat line dance that's done at live music events. I tell her, "Yeah, two forward and one back" - the direction of line movement in measures. She responds with a "yes-but" - stresses and insists that the first two measures are quite distinct. For one, they start on different feet. O.k., but I counter that for practical purposes, the first two measures are the same. We are both right. But good-golly, here it is again... this disagreement is iconic. Though I am not a real dance teacher, I actually teach this dance very often in the trenches - meaning, in the dance line - to the "clueless newbies" who are sometimes in the line next to me. My usual aim is to try to get them to walk in time with the music, and I temporarily simplify my own steps to better serve as a model. "Walk-walk-walk walk, walk-walk-walk walk, back-two-three walk"... or something like that. Forget the left-foot right-foot niceties - just learning to move in sync with the line and the music is a powerful achievement. In this setting, being on the wrong foot is so trivial compared to being off rhythm. This is not rocket science - once you are moving in time, you may be able to find the proper "footedness" on your own. When "TK" leads dance lines at live music scenes, she often starts by walking in time to the rhythm. "How democratic! What a wonderful teacher!," I initially thought. But when I offered my compliments, she related that walking in time to the music was the way some dances are started in her native part of Bulgaria. Whoa! So real Bulgarian dancing with Bulgarians can sometimes be more accessible than Bulgarian dancing taught by American folk dance teachers. But no wonder. Next: episode 9 - the Opa Cupa conundrum Previous: episode 7 - different strokes Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 7 - different strokes (MySpace 8/04/2008)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 7 - different strokes
DateCreated	8/4/2008 11:42:00 PM
PostedDate	8/28/2008 2:17:00 AM
Body	On some Fridays, I visit the Arcata folk dance club - not to dance, but to practice Balkan music with "E". When I showed up two weeks ago, I encountered some hot activity in progress - a lively and enthusiastic mixed-age crowd, more so than what I'd seen in recent years. Great. Based on the movements and the recorded music, my guess was that they were learning a Croatian-style choreography originally created for the stage. The effect seemed intended to communicate "big fun!". Not strictly "folk dance". But still, I stood there admiring, wondering if I should join in. The steps were a little challenging - but heck, challenges are good for you.  And lord knows, I needed the exercise. But, somehow, it didn't turn me on. Just then, an older guy with a big paunch - someone new to the group, who had been gamely following along - spoke up in loud measured tones that suggested radio experience, "This dance seems like it was made up by a child." Ooo...faux pas! The teacher saved the moment with a cheerful, "Yes, a 40 year old child!" Cultural mis-read, yet also with an uncanny aspect of emperor's new clothes. The guy was absolutely on to something. "Happy peasant" choreographies tend to portray peasants as - flirtatious, virile, fun ... and also, well, sort of child-like. Furthermore, to inexperienced ears, some of the music may seem to have a nursery rhyme quality. When I returned last week, I found them working on that same fun dance, and doing a great job. "E" and I went upstairs to practice our stuff - vocals, kaval (flute) and tupan (drum) - AFAIK, not a traditional combo in the Balkans. While we are playing Pustono Ludo (the Rhodopi song), the dancers arrive upstairs, and start dancing to what we're playing. Neat. But some don't get it - even though this is just a simple pravo. So "C" starts a quick teach, without music, and I continue with one of the young newcomers. But she still feels uncomfortable, and says to me, "Eventually, I will learn this dance!" I tell her pravo is not something to be "learned," but to be done. She should just join in and look around for someone who seems to "get it," and try to copy their moves. She responds by raising her hand for a palm slap. "C" then breaks out the fans, and leads an O Bon dance, straight away, without teaching. "C" says that it was initially hard teaching them as "folk dances," because he was raised in the culture - and had learned them by doing. I watch and marvel how another of the newcomers is dancing with the same feel and spirit as "C". I catch her as she leaves, and ask about her experience. She claims that the dance is new to her - but that she is a "visual learner". Modest. And impressively skilled, and fortunate. Provided good sources - dancers and music - this person will have no problem "getting it". Next: episode 8 - a Devetorka lesson Previous: episode 6 - New York Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 6 - New York (MySpace 8/04/2008)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 6 - New York
DateCreated	8/4/2008 11:40:00 PM
PostedDate	8/5/2008 1:03:00 AM
Body	What to do in NYC in July? I'm told I should check out the Greek American Folklore Society in Astoria. "GAFS is like a little Greek village -really!" Never having been to Greece, it sounds as much intimidating as enticing - but I decide to try the Tuesday night "beginner's class," $12 for non-members. I expect a multi-story community center with a reception desk and air-conditioning. But it's like a large studio apartment, with two doors on the street, with big mirrors and mementos on the walls, and electric fans on the floor. The place is crowded. I hear English and Greek. Sink or swim -I take a deep breath and dive in. Somehow, I introduce myself. Their performance team has been practicing for the festival next weekend at St. Irene's. But after I arrive, it rapidly segues into the class. No turning back. A few new people like myself, but it's still mainly their team. Combo practice and class? They start with the men in front, the guys doing an arm-swinging, clapping, and squatting routine that initially flummoxes me. Yikes. Everyone re-assures - says there's NO WAY I'm going to get it first time. Fortunately, no more like that. They move on to strangely familiar material. The dances are all new to me, yet I know this music. It's obviously from Thrace (Bulgaria: Trakia), but from the other side of the border (Greece: Thraki). Amazing - or not - each corresponds to a core Bulgarian dance. In California, folk dancers usually try to match this music with the more familiar Bulgarian steps and balance - even though the fit can be a bit awkward. But here they are doing it the Greek way. Cool. After that sequence, on to Macedonia, etc. Greece has plenty of regional diversity. Hey, so I seem to know a little something, and so I feel more at home. But it's not only that. Despite the novelty, somehow I am able to do this stuff. I can actually follow along and participate in almost every dance, unlike my usual experience at folk dance evenings. Though I am very aware that I have a ways to go regarding the nuances of timing, balance, accent, styling - it feels really good, I can tell I am learning, and it is definitely fun. And, for a few dances that have music and drumming that seems closer to home, I even feel comfortable enough vary the step timing to suit. During the breaks, various people ask me how I'm able to follow along so well. I don't really know, but to make it simple, I tell them that it's because I already know the music. One guy responds that what he sees too often is folks trying to impose the steps on the music. Oh, yeah - I know EXACTLY what he is talking about. So, why was I so comfortable with these strangers, as compared to my usual "folk dance" club experience? Hard to explain. I like these people a lot, but I can't say that they are any friendlier than folk dancers. The difference seems to have something to do with the material, and the expectations. For one, these are "traditional," in other words simple, not choreographed dances. Generally, only one or two step patterns are repeated throughout. The GAFS members who were teaching spent a minimum time making sure everybody understood the basic patterns, then put on the music and took it from there. The rest of the dance, the subtleties that are every much a part as the steps, you learn by doing - by imitation, and assisted by coaching from a teacher or fellow dancers - and mostly while the music is playing. Secondly, these were all Greek dances. Despite definite regional differences, your learning experiences are more likely to reinforce each other - much more so than with an "International" or even a "Balkan" dance club - where on any given evening, the sequence of dances tends to skip around from country to country. As I've said before, many International and Balkan dancers are incredibly skilled. And yet, they also seem very tolerant of mushy dancing. And it's not just because they are friendly, kind, and generous. I think it's also because the awesome breadth of their repertoire makes it difficult for newcomers to acquire basic competence, and makes it unfair to challenge them to acquire it. It's sad when the practical need to keep things "fun" stands in the way of helping people grow, learn, and participate in the cultural experience. Next: episode 7 - different strokes Previous: episode 5 - Santa Monica Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 5 - Santa Monica (MySpace 4/23/2008)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 5 - Santa Monica
DateCreated	4/23/2008 1:25:00 AM
PostedDate	4/23/2008 1:03:00 AM
Body	So ... I drove down to SF for the event on Friday - which I won't describe much, because I'm not using this blog as a chronicle, o.k.? Smajko was awesome, but he always is (not to slight the other musicians). Got to see RSS's daughter's family - the tiny granddaughter dancing a small-child Roman style on-stage with the band. Got to dance and hang with a variety of people. Got to help prepare snacks for the musicians. As usual at these VOR events, SR did pre-party dance teaching. Some of the music that goes with these dances from Serbia, Kosovo, Macedonia, etc., can be heard in America (e.g., Brass Menazeri), but there are fewer opportunities to learn the dances themselves, because most are not part of the standard "folk dance" repertoire. But the real reason for this episode is an experience two days later, Sunday, in Santa Monica. Three of us arrived late afternoon, feeling quite pleased after a six hour drive, having immediately found the place, plus an empty parking spot by the back door. A dance class was in progress. But my brain and body were a bit fried, and I mainly just wanted to hang out and soak in the experience - new place, new people. Still, I tried dropping-in now and then. As luck turned out, I got to see a dance from Friday get taught by a different teacher - and then later re-taught by SR. The contrast was an eye-opener. MT is an older gal, an excellent dancer, with awesome folk dance creds, and who teaches very well. SR is younger, an excellent dancer, it's his culture, and he teaches very differently. She was using the typical folk dance method of breaking a seemingly complex dance into small, easy-to-digest pieces. You can do it. Here's one piece at a time. Here's how we string them together. I tried to follow along behind the class, figuring that it couldn't be too hard. It was probably something I more-or-less already knew. But, alas, I could not follow her at all! Granted, I was still somewhat fried from the drive. Then she put on the music - and, hey, I recognized it. My body memory kicked in, and found what seemed like the right balance and timing, and some, but not all of the steps. Whatever I was remembering, whatever I was doing (right or wrong), I had learned by, a) trying to follow the movements of SR and those of his friends and family who - in my eyes - seemed to have "gotten" it, and b) trying to fit those movements to the music, and to the cues that it provides. The thought occurred to me that maybe her analytical approach was making the dance seem much more complex than necessary, particularly to her beginners. And I wondered whether, by presenting a dance in pieces - perhaps too many pieces - teachers may inadvertently create a different dance in the minds of many of the students - a dance that will continue to be remembered as a series of segments and transitions - whereas, in the real-life dance, your body and the music just carry you along smoothly, with little or no conscious mental or physical sense of switch. When SR teaches, he sometimes sings parts of the tunes or calls out the drum mnemonics for that rhythm. There are so many cues in the music. Will the students who learn from bona-fide folk dance teachers be able to hear these cues, or will they be too busy trying to remember the procedures taught by their teachers? Next: episode 6 - New York Previous: episode 4 - stay or go Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 4 - stay or go (MySpace 4/16/2008)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 4 - stay or go
DateCreated	4/16/2008 9:32:00 PM
PostedDate	4/16/2008 9:36:00 AM
Body	This year was the first time I haven't attended the Arcata Folkdance festival. I'd ordinarily be on the crew, tending sound. But after a meeting last summer when I told them they had a scheduling confict with the International Roma Day event in SF - they assumed I wouldn't be around, and took me off the contact list. Self-fulfilling prophecy. But based on what I've written so far, you could also say it's my karma. Let's return to the Brass Menazeri event in episode 2. It was now less than a week before the Arcata Fest., but I still hadn't figured whether I was going to attend. Some people I really like were coming to perform and teach drum and balkan ensembles. But the evening party band line-up didn't seem particularly enticing. For years I've been skipping festival and camp dance classes and concentrating on the evening parties and music sessions. I do that at the camps so I can catch up on sleep. At folk dance oriented festivals, I do that because the dances taught tend to be ones not supported by the live bands, and I may have little opportunity to do them again. Anyway, for what it's worth, at this Arcata festival, they'd engaged two top-notch older guys as the dance teachers. Not that I have a personal problem with their gender or age, per se - but I'd say that the planners' thoughts re. gender and age appeal are somewhat different than mine. I'd seen one of these veterans for the first time only at last year's Kolo Festival. I was taking a break from the kitchen, and walked into a rap he was giving about some aspect of folk dance. I remember hearing him say something like "I often tell my students, 'Look for the dance in the dance'". I remember thinking, this guy is really on to something. There's something very important that I may need to learn from him. But I also remember thinking, what a 'folk dance' thing to say! My brain thinks more like 'Look for the dance in the music'. Back to the predicament at hand. Regardless of lack of enthusiasm, it's stupid - right? - to not take advantage of a festival in your own home town. I could just show up, pay the full price and relax. No set-up and take-down hassles. And this time no one could get on my case about the sound being too loud. So I hoped I could make up my mind at the B-M event. One factor was whether I could line-up housing in the Bay Area for after the IRD event on Friday. But the band members are more acquaintances than friends, and I didn't want to be pushy. For sure, though, some of them were planning to be at the IRD, if only to hear Ismail Lumanovski on clarinet. Yes, that was a good reminder of values - the music I like to hear, and dances I like doing. Sani Rifati would be teaching and reviewing some of the contemporary dances that fit with this live music. Seemed like I should do it - it would be worth the drive. To see what I mean about the music, go to YouTube and look up "Smajko" and also Husnu, and Yuri, too. A few days later, I find out from MySpace friend "R" that there is space in his car to drive down Sunday from the Bay Area to the second IRD event in LA. That did it - I was going. Would figure out the housing after getting to the Bay Area - and would bring the drum along, in case I found people to play with. One of those sub-epic adventures. It turned out that I had to find another way to get to LA - but that is another story altogether, and no need to chronicle it in this blog. Next: episode 5 - Santa Monica Previous: episode 3 - Arcata Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 3 - Arcata (MySpace 4/15/2008)

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 3 - Arcata
DateCreated	4/15/2008 1:18:00 AM
PostedDate	4/15/2008 1:43:00 AM
Body	Several Saturdays ago, Brass Menazeri came to Arcata - the last stop homeward on a tour up north. Two very adept middle-eastern style dance ladies performed with them, and were giving a class the following day. This "Evening of Balkan Dance" was hosted by Shoshanna, in her new studio - though some local folk dance musicians provided housing. Turnout was o.k., though there was comfortably room for three times the number. At most, one third of the crowd was folk dancers - but according to the band, more than they'd seen earlier in the tour. As you would expect, and especially considering the venue, there was a heavy presence of bellydance people. Overall, far more women than men. As for dancing - with Brass Menazeri, anything goes. If there are enough folk dancers, then there will be some Balkan-style line dancing. If there are bellydancers in the crowd, great.  If some of them know "Roman" solo improv., so much the better. Otherwise - people do whatever they want, provided the joint is not packed too tight to move (like in Amnesia, the bar). So what happened? All of the above, except for the Roman - or maybe I didn't spot it. One guy - a MySpace friend, let's call him "C" - put a lot of effort into trying to make sure that a dance line was available for as many tunes as possible - because most folk dancers don't feel comfortable doing solo improv. I can truly sympathize, but the irony is that solo has a prominent role in the culture of most, if not all, of the Balkan countries from which these line dances are drawn. I figured I'd join the line dancing - since, yes, I still feel shy and awkward about solo - though I'll try it in a large enough crowd. But, wouldn't you know, I found myself facing the situation described in "episode 2" - only worse. Doesn't anybody here know how to really cocek? - or so it felt. Looking around the room, most people are having a whale of a time with solo improv. - some people's movements apparently informed by Mid-east dance experience, but others just plain free-form blissing it out - either in time with the music or not. The ones who seem the least enthused, are the mostly blank-faced folks in the dance line. Who are they? Dedicated practitioners of the tradition from which this music comes - or outsiders, participating in the party in the only way they know how? But as I wrote in the last episode - while this controlled, oddly out-of-touch-with-the-music behavior is all too common among folk dancers at live music events - it does not define what their "folk dance" is really about. Case in point: Near the end of the evening, the band started to play a berance - not necessarily a difficult dance, yet notorious.  The seemingly irregular step timing is virtually guaranteed to confuse those not paying attention to the music. "C" immediately formed a line with me and "L" - most of the people behind us looking like they didn't have a clue about what they were in for. And for once that evening, "C" did it his way. He cut loose. Stunts, yells, speed-ups, slow-downs, one crazy guy! And on the music every inch of the way. He did very well, indeed - I could barely keep up! Some people in the room were cheering - for sure, non- folk dancers.  I'm really glad they got to see that. O.k., so every folk dance can't or shouldn't be athletic or "crazy" - but if it doesn't have an aspect of "heart" participation, if it doesn't honor the human spirit, if it doesn't even seem to honor the music - then something crucial is missing. Better to just make up your own moves, hippie style. Next: episode 4 - stay or go Previous: episode 2 - the following day in Santa Rosa Start: episode 1 - the Peninsula

episode 2 - the following day in Santa Rosa (MySpace 4/14/2008)

...continued

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 2 - the following day in Santa Rosa
DateCreated	4/14/2008 5:36:00 PM
PostedDate	4/14/2008 5:43:00 PM
Body	The next day I was up in Santa Rosa at the big annual Glendi (party) sponsored by the Orthodox church. The "house band" was Brass Menazeri (a Bay Area Balkan-style brass band).  Jeez, they must have done five sets, and for the occasion added much new material to their repertoire.  Their music is exciting - they like what they play.  Their energy and attitude are so infectuous that they are well received in venues where the customers have no knowledge of the Balkans. And they are very good at what they do. Dancing to this music, I felt like I was back in my element.  No recording-imposed 3-4 minute restriction on each dance.  And these were simple dances - no multiple step variations. Don't mistake me here.  Within a "simple" dance, the possiblity for modification and self-expression is broad.  If there are people with a cultural background (native or acquired) in the dance line or dancing alongside  - you can observe that these "simple" dances can have as much nuance, complexity, beauty, and exhileration as any.  People at all skill levels can participate, with ample room for growth. So, there I am, in the middle of the dance line, feeling like I'm flying, relieved of the sense of "no can" from the night before, and grinning and trying to make eye contact with the people behind me in the line.  Telepathically ... "Isn't this music great! Isn't this big fun!"  And then I realize that most of the crowd seems to be in a very different experiential space than me. Not everyone, but the majority, are looking straight ahead and not smiling.  And while they are doing sort of the same step pattern that I am, more-or-less in time to the music - they don't seem to be dancing to THIS music.  By appearances, they might as well be listening to the same piece of recorded music they usually hear when they go "folk dancing".  Can they tell that this music is different, special?  Does it matter to them?  But I continue to smile and to try to share my enthusiasm. So what was going on?  From what I've seen, many people who do international folk dancing also know how to have a good time.  They can be as happy and smiling and silly as can be.  Many of them are amazing dancers.  Yet this recreation activity also seems to be cranking-out a larger number of people who have learned the steps, but have not learned to hear or to have fun. I think it has something to do with learning to dance to recorded music - the same cuts, over and over again - largely from the Cold War era - and perhaps never learning that this ethnic music, like themselves and their friends, is a thing that lives and breathes - and develops over time. You wouldn't talk to a snapshot, would you?  But if you do, it's not going to be a real conversation. (I sense that this analogy might be reaching the limit of its usefulness.) Next: episode 3 - Arcata Previous: episode 1  - the Peninsula

episode 1 - the Peninsula (MySpace 4/14/2008)

The first two "episodes"are paired - to demonstrate a contrast. 

Subject	Where's the kef? - episode 1 - the Peninsula
DateCreated	4/14/2008 5:11:00 PM
PostedDate	4/14/2008 4:47:00 PM
Body	I have a bi-polar relationship with folk dance. Sometimes I feel like the ultimate three-footed klutz - sometimes I feel like I am flying. Depends on the venue and the vibes. I don't have it quite figured out. I may never really understand it. But here and there I find insights. Like that weekend last September... Was staying on the Peninsula. It was a Friday evening. I was looking for fun and company, so I paid a visit to the Stanford Dancers. They organize their evenings like many other folk dance clubs - a teach or review of several dances, followed by "request dancing," drawing on the club's massive collection of recorded music. Each record cut is associated with a particular folk dance. The scope is international, but with an emphasis on the Balkans. None of the regulars knows all of these dances - but some know hundreds and many know dozens. Despite this resident expertise, hospitality is strong in all the clubs I've visited. By intention, both the teaching and request segments include easy material, suitable for beginners. I sometimes tell folks that I've given up on learning new dances, but I started this evening game. Alas, as usual I couldn't keep up with the teach, particularly the dances with multiple variations. Like, I'd be still be working on variation 1, and the teacher would continue to 2. Four more variations to go? Time to sit down and watch. Some people actually got it all. Some did their best, faking it as necessary. And a few stumbled along. Don't underestimate it - being able to fake is a quality skill. It helps you to fit in and have a good time. And hey, your fake might look as good as the correct step. But what you don't want to do is to stumble along. No fun, not pretty - and worse, you could hurt yourself or others. During that evening I re-joined the others whenever simpler and more familiar material was presented. But I spent most of the evening sitting. Had pleasant interactions - but I left with a slight nagging sense of not being able to hack it. It was a typical experience for me on the international folk-dance scene - hundreds of dances being taught, and therefore an unlimited opportunity to never quite learn the step-pattern - let alone the styling. Whatever pleasure I can get from these sessions, the net effect is going to be less than desirable. Next: episode 2 - the following day in Santa Rosa

But see the contrast the next day...