the episodes

How this started - the eleven "episodes".

It began in 2008 with an issue I was trying to address: a longstanding frustration with recreational folk dancing. I had trouble learning new material, and often felt awkward. Yet occasionally I also heard people say I was a good dancer. Sure, in the course of life, being hypercritical of oneself is a common pitfall. But I started noticing that beyond the internal conflict, I was also dealing with a contrast of values and esthetics within folk dancing that I had not previously noticed or heard discussed.
At the time, I was using Myspace for miscellaneous blogging. To maintain continuity between posts on this topic, I numbered each one as an "episode". Though I may not be focusing on the original issue, I think I'll keep the name for now. Kef is a good thing. Though you can't necessarily make it happen - when it does, it is always appreciated.

Thursday, December 19, 2013

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

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