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