Posts Tagged ‘swingout’
Actually Following
Posted on: July 31, 2012
- In: following
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There’s this thing beginner leads in my scene do that absolutely drives me crazy.
Maybe they do this everywhere, or maybe it’s just a Portland thing, I don’t know. But what they do is, after sending you out into a swingout, instead of letting you continue the momentum they’ve set up, for some reason out of nowhere they suddenly yank you forward on that last triple.
It always ends up as a yank. Because everyone knows that last triple is where you settle back. It’s the “out” part of the swingout, and it’s the only place the follow can really do styling or whatever. As a million instructors have told us, that last triple is where the follow gets to shine. And then out of nowhere, this professional arm-wrestler is yanking you forward. Ouch!
I was discussing this with a friend of mine not too long ago, and she said she thinks it’s because they’re trying to “body lead.” They’ve been told they’re not supposed to jerk you around with their arms, but instead somehow use their bodies to move you. But they still carry their body weight too high, so what it translates to is that they lean back with their shoulders in an effort to get you to move without using their arms. Of course, they always do give a little extra value at the end of the maneuver by bending their arms anyway.
As I used to tell my kids when they were little, that may be an explanation, but it’s no excuse.
However…
I remember this one time when I was taking a workshop from Naomi Uyama. I was complaining to her about leads who yank on your arm, and asking her what to do about it. She invited me to show her what I meant. So I led her in some swingouts, and tried to imitate the kind of arm yanking that I so often feel on the dance floor.
And you know what? I couldn’t yank that girl no matter how hard I tried. Every time I jerked and tugged on her arm, she just floated. I was getting worn out, but her lovely smile never left her face for a minute; you’d a thought I was Fred Astaire or something.
It actually made me kind of mad. “How do you DO that?” I spluttered.
“Well,” she said patiently, “you just follow.”
So I was thinking about this whole thing with leads who yank you forward on seven-and-eight. And I realized what I should have seen long ago: the problem really isn’t them. It’s me.
The only reason I get my arm yanked in these situations is because I believe, mentally, that I’m supposed to “triple away” on those last two counts. It’s my right and privilege as a follow. After all, that’s where I get to do my styling.
And you know what? That ain’t following.
I know for a fact that if Naomi, or any other brilliant follower, was getting led forward on that last seven-and-eight, she would simply triple forward. She wouldn’t get into a wrestling match with the guy by insisting on tripling away. If I get my arm yanked, it’s because I was tripling away without being led there.
It’s called “actually following.”
I’m gonna have to try that sometime!
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Falling Forward
Posted on: June 10, 2012
At the age of forty-five, I have finally learned how to run.
See, I grew up bookish, in a bookish family. We lived purely from our necks up. Nothing involving anything lower than the chin was considered of any value – no dancing, no athletics, no pretty clothes, and sex? Hell, no. Just endless reading and talk, talk, talking.
I never thought of myself as athletic, and as I entered my thirties I was starting to put on pounds. Imagine my surprise when I discovered Lindy Hop, and began to learn that I do, in fact, have hips. I have a cardiovascular system. I have muscles. I have a spine. Who knew?
But I could never run. Even though I could dance long, hard and fast, running was a whole ‘nother thing. As soon as I even thought about running, my chest would constrict, my muscles would tense, and I’d be breathing hard before I even stepped outside! I could maybe run a block or two before I’d have to stop, gasping for air, with a stitch in my side, thinking I was going to die. So the fact is, I developed a fear of running.
I asked a college athletic trainer about it one time. Her helpful advice? “Maybe you’re just not meant to be a runner.” D’oh!
Well, last weekend I was doing a jazz dancing workshop with my friend, teacher and dance guru, the fabulous Brenda Russell, dance maven extraordinaire. And she had us do this thing where we had to move around the room, falling forward from foot to foot in a really relaxed manner. She kept reminding us to breathe and to relax, and after about fifteen minutes of this, I thought to myself, “Hey! Isn’t this just jogging?” Blew me away. It certainly seemed like jogging, yet I wasn’t out of breath, I wasn’t tired, I wasn’t struggling. I was just falling forward from foot to foot.
So the next day, when I went to take my dogs for a walk, I decided to try this falling forward business. I started slowly jogging, and every time I started gasping or dying or freaking out, I would just remind myself to relax and fall forward. And you know what? I made it the whole way like that. I ran, in other words. Slowly, but still, it was running. The whole way! My doggies, Max and Chewy, were certainly surprised. But they weren’t as surprised as I was! I seriously have never done anything like that before.
Okay, so what does this have to do with dancing, you ask? Let me tell you.
As a Lindy Hop scene, I’m sad to say that Portland doesn’t have the best reputation. We seem to have a lot of really arm-y leads who yank their follows in and then shove them out backward in this really rough manner. Correspondingly, some of our follows are pretty heavy and hard to move. And I’m one of them. My main struggle has been learning to negotiate the dreaded lindy swingout – every time a guy looks like he’s going to yank me into a swingout, I instinctively tense up, brace myself, and get really heavy so I don’t get thrown on my ass. Which obviously doesn’t help anything. And then I tend to sort of jump forward on “one,” before the guy has a chance to yank on my arm.
It’s fear, you see. Early on I learned to be afraid of doing a swingout, and now, even though I know better, I’m still fearful, and I still have that tension in my body.
So when I was experimenting with running last week, I was comparing my new way of running with the way I used to run before, when it didn’t work very well. Used to be that instead of falling forward and letting gravity and momentum do their job, I was fighting against both of them. I was tensing up and then sort of springing up and forward on each step, using muscle tension to try and get somewhere. No wonder I was exhausting myself.
And what I realized is that the fear of running that I had, that made running so difficult for me, is the very same fear that I have when I’m dancing and doing swingouts. And it results in the very same tension in my body.
So now, I see what my next step is. I need to learn to take the principles that fixed my running, this business of falling forward and using gravity and momentum instead of muscle tension, and apply them to my swingout.
I’m very hopeful. This running business has given me confidence. If I can learn to run, surely I can learn to do a proper swingout. Wouldn’t you think?
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The Double Lindy
Posted on: May 14, 2012
In Mr. Lawrence Hostetler’s 1942 book, Walk Your Way to Better Dancing, in his section on Lindy Hop, he describes both a “single lindy” and a “double lindy.” His single lindy turns out to be very similar to what we would call a single-time Balboa basic. What might double lindy happen to be?
Here he describes it:
“Just as extra steps are added to the single conga to convert it into the double conga, in the same way you can easily transform the single lindy into the double. The general pattern of the basic step remains the same. To account for the extra steps the count of and is used. Whereas the four counts to the measure of the single lindy denote quarter-notes (“Bounce Me Brother with a Solid Four”) the and count indicates an eighth-note (“Beat Me Daddy Eight to the Bar”). The additional steps are made very short and without lifting the feet from the floor.
“The Double Lindy Turning Left:
- Step back L in open position facing the line of dance.
- Step R in place.
- Short step forward L. At the same time turn partner in front of you to the closed position.
And Close with R. - Short step forward L, beginning left turn.
- Step side R, completing quarter-turn left to face center of room.
- Cross L over R.
- Short step to side R.
And Close with L. - Short step to side R.
“While the man is making only a quarter-turn left, the girl makes a three-quarters turn. To repeat the step and complete the turn, swing your partner to the open position facing opposite to the line of dance and step back L.”
So, in other words, the same as the single lindy, but with triple steps. Duh.
But now he goes on to describe something really interesting:
“Thus far we have considered only figures of 8 counts or two measures each. Now, however, we come to an important and much used variation – the double lindy “break” or “throw-out.” Unlike the break of the single lindy, which uses the same pattern as the basic figure, the double lindy break is done in 6 counts or one and a half measures, thus changing the 8 count rhythm of the basic step.
“The Double Lindy Break:
- Lift L knee and step back L in open position.
- Lift R knee and step R in place.
- Short step forward L. At same time swing partner away from you with firm pressure of right hand at her waist.
And Close with R. - Step L approximately in place.
- Short step to side R.
And Close with L. - Step R approximately in place.
“This break figure can be considered as merely the basic step with two counts omitted. Not only is the action thus speeded up, but also an interesting change of rhythm is provided. The counts deleted are counts 5 and 6 of the basic step.
“As in the break of the single lindy, the man keeps the rhythm of the step in place while swinging his partner away from himself. As the girl travels backwards away from her partner, he keeps a firm grasp of her right hand with his left…
“From this throw-out or break position a couple can go into numerous variations… The 6 count rhythm of the break figure can be repeated or they can return to the 8 count basic step.”
So essentially what we have here, if we extend a little tolerance to his “firm pressure on her waist” nonsense, is a six-count sendout. And that, folks, is as close as Mr. Lawrence Hostetler ever gets to describing a lindy swingout.
Tomorrow, I’ll finish up with Mr. Hostetler by sharing his list of common mistakes in Lindy Hop.
The Dancing Bug 