The Fundamental Characteristics of African Dance

Index of the fundamental characteristics of African dance and derivatives. Derived from Welsh-Asante's seven characteristics of African dance in "Commonalities in African Dance: An Aesthetic Foundation" (1985).

1. Low to the earth
African cosmology regards the Earth as a benevolent world which sustains them, as compared to the European's place of trial to ascend from. Hence the characteristic of African dance is one which works with gravity, not one which seeks to defy it.

The 'Earth-Centred' Posture
With the ankles just inside one hip-width apart, and the body in a seated posture but inclined forward with knees flexed, this is a root position of West African dance. The posture places the dancer in dynamic equilibrium with gravity: energy from the dancer radiating downwards to the earth is in balance with the energy radiated from the earth upwards.

2. Undulating from the centre outward
(remarks to follow)

3. Polyrhythmic
(remarks to follow)

4. Emphasis on the pelvic girdle
(remarks to follow)

5. Body part isolations
Each body part tells its own story.

"All the elements of the music are displayed clearly in the body and nothing is left out." - Emily Willette (2012)

6. Whole foot touching the ground
(remarks to follow)

"We are the men of dance, whose feet draw new strength pounding the hardened earth." - Léopold Sédar Senghor (1945).

"stamping feet on the ground is a show of extreme joy" - Alphonse Tiérou (2000) 

7. Bent knees
(remarks to follow)

"dancing in a bent-over position with arms folded over the chest is a symbol of initiation" - Alphonse Tiérou (2000)

8. Texture
describes how dance functions as bodily (performative) conversation.

"Tell me how you dance and I'll tell you who you are." - Alphonse Tiérou (2000)

"When a body moves, it's the most revealing thing. Dance for me a minute, and I'll tell you who you are." - Mikhail Baryshnikov

References

Senghor, Léopold Sédar (1945). Prayer to Masks. In 'Songs of Shadow'. Original text: "Nous sommes les hommes de la danse, dont les pieds reprennent vigueur en frappant le sol dur." See excerpt: http://www.drmalotaibi.com/courses/prayer-to-masks.pdf [Retrieved 08/07/16]

Tiérou, Alphonse (2000). Tell Me How You Dance and I'll Tell You Who You Are. The UNESCO Courier. October 2000, Page 45. See: http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0012/001207/120752e.pdf#120774 [Retrieved 08/07/16]

Welsh-Asante, Kariamu (1985). Commonalities in African Dance: An Aesthetic Foundation. In "African Culture: The Rhythms of Unity" edited by Molefi Kete Asante and Kariamu Welsh-Asante. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.

Willette, Emily (2012). The Africanist Aesthetic in American Dance Forms. https://sophia.smith.edu/blog/danceglobalization/2012/04/13/the-africanist-aesthetic-in-american-dance-forms/ [Retrieved 18/06/2016]

Some Assembly Required: Clearing Imitation

At the start of the new calendar year, I've decided it was time for a change in tack at Solares.

The previous few months had been about getting to grips with the elemental constituents of Caribbean dance:

1. the fundamental relationship of tension and release between clave and pulse;
2. putting rhythmic weight on start of the African rhythm cycle;
3. gaining familiarity with African vocalisation practices; and
4. establishing a vocabulary of individual turn elements - the building blocks of turn combinations.

But as any pedagogue will tell you, "understanding isn't doing". And I wasn't seeing enough doing. This presented as a lack of fluency with the material in its context. In terms of Bloom's psycho-motor domain (below), we weren't even out of the ground floor.

From http://www.psy.gla.ac.uk/~steve/best/bloom.html. All Rights Acknowledged.

Put another way, the 'Guided Response' of imitation does not indicate learner independence, the 'Mechanism' of manipulation does (see below).

From http://ruyancom125.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/e-learning.html. All Rights Acknowledged.

What this means, is that I have to get Solares attendees to imitate manipulation, for which I'll have to demonstrate the skills of manipulation in context through a series of case studies. And I have just the thing!

Loo Yeo

Cultural Mark, Social Brand

There's nothing like a hard deadline to focus the mind. And with our commitment to launching our Latin dance social event, there's been a lot of focussing lately. I don't think Esh, Steve and I have been in such sustained contact, ever!

Apart from the bringing together of materials and investment in capital assets i.e. the operations facet, the most important long-term decision is, "what to call it?" It has to have the opportunity to grow into a name of social meaning, to reflect the uniqueness we feel the night can (and should) be. Yes, it will be a brand, but it'll be less the values of Monsanto and more Rainforest Alliance. Or maybe Eataly.

Whatever it is, I have a few parameters.

Alliterative
The word or phrase has got to have a nice internal rhythm to its pronunciation, to make it an easy handle to grasp

Cultural Dimension
I would like to see this as a place where both Latin Americans and locals alike feel comfortable. It has to have elements of cultural grounding in the Caribbean, and hence have 'authenticity'.

Pan-Latin
As I envision the music policy to be broad, encompassing such like: vallenato (for Colombians), gaita (for Venezuelans), cumbia (for Chileans, Mexicans), bachata (locals and Latins), merengue (for Latins), timba (for Cubans, Cubanophiles and Casinoholics), and a main staple of salsa (from romantica to dura); the symbol must have a dimension which crosses the Caribbean and South America.

Unique
It should be one that has not been seen before in the local environment, in this context.

'Empty' Term
I suspect my co-partners would want to go with something which has 'salsa' in the title. I feel that whereas that might help us get up and running quickly, as people hearing it would think they know what to expect, it is that same expectation which would hinder the brand in the long term. The better, (albeit harder) way is to choose an 'empty' term and imbue it with our own meanings, rather than try to adapt one with existing meanings.

Pronounceable
This is a concept most immigrant parents or those of different cultures face when choosing names for their children. A good number of them choose names which are pronounced similarly in both (or more) languages.

Social Dimension
Wherever and however the mark is derived, it has to convey a strong social dimension which I feel should be the core of what we do.

So, all in all quite one of the easiest things to do. I already have a few candidates.

Loo Yeo

Hierarchy of Advancement Workshop Twenty-Four

Warm up, to rumba clave only tracks
Walks in all directions: forwards, backwards, to side, linear and rotated; changing between stepping on pulse and salsa dance rhythm.

Analysis: distribution of movement energy
In front of mirror, stepping between pulse and salsa dance rhythm, upper body engine. There is rhythmic dance energy apparent above the waist than below. It looks unbalanced.

Concept: increasing lower body dance energy
Engaging the knees rhythmically introduces the involvement of the adductors and abductors, increasing lower body dance energy.

Concept: body-part substitution in rhythm interpretation

I - Body-part substitution in salsa dance rhythm

Practice: salsa dance rhythm foot to knee substitution, on the spot
To rumba clave only tracks. Salsa dance rhythm: instead of foot-foot-foot, to foot-knee(out)-foot, static practice. Centre-of-gravity remains a constant distance from the floor, which causes the ankles to raise off the floor as the knees move outward.

Learning points:

• listen for the foot-knee-foot action. The auditory feedback should be "thump" (foot strikes floor), "rustle" (clothing brushes knee), "thump" (foot strikes floor)
• lower centre of gravity to produce more power
• the knee movement is undamped, being allowed to swing freely yet rhythmically.

Practice: salsa dance rhythm foot to knee substitution, walking
To rumba clave only tracks. Salsa dance rhythm: instead of foot-foot-foot, to foot-knee(out)-foot, walking practice (all directions). This is the rumba guaguancó knee action.

Learning point: the knee action is deliberately exaggerated at low tempi so that it will be observable at the high tempi of guaguancó.

Practice: rumba guaguancó knee action, strengthening exercise
Walks to rumba clave only tracks. Intersperse with four steps on same foot, taking successively deeper steps. This develops physical flexibility and strength, and timing compensation for step size.

II - Body-part substitution in rumba clave rhythm

Practice: stepping to 3-2 rumba clave
To rumba clave only tracks, sidewards walks. Six steps to the compound rumba-son clave vocalisation (3-2 orientation) "pa, pa, pa-um / pa, pa" as *side, close, back-side / side, close*

Practice: stepping to 2-3 rumba clave
To rumba clave only tracks, sidewards walks. Six steps to the compound rumba-son clave vocalisation (2-3 orientation) "pa, pa / pa, pa, pa-um" as *side, close / side, close, back-side*

Learning materials
Rumba clave timelines by Jeremy Wise and Loo Yeo
Flor Pálida by Marc Anthony

The Right Feeling (re-found in Barcelona)

Over the past few years, my re-acquaintance with a long-time friend has led to an increased return to the social dance floor at venues across the country. I'm struck by the heterogeneity in customer experience - in the music played, sound quality, lighting ambience, hospitality, venue setup, dance surface...

At the risk of wearing out my rose-tinted glasses, I recalled promoters putting more effort into their offerings. I put it down to a time when the salsa scene was niche, and, with the actual dance population being small, salsa nights had to have the capacity to 'fascinate' the larger non-salsa audience and draw them in, since they had barely a sense of what salsa was. Now that the salsa-experienced population has grown to a significant enough size, it seems that that attention to fascinate and welcome has drained away.

On more than one recent occasion, I found myself paying to dance in a box.

I've wondered, "has the salsa experience become commoditised?" "Would we, as first-movers in a fledgling salsa scene, have been able to grow it to what it is now by offering today's kind of experience?"

I was saddened. But at the same time, I realised that there was something in it. You see, two friends had been bouncing around the idea of starting up a salsa event with me; and I was only going to commit if the night came from the right place: from the heart. It had the right feeling.

And it just so happens that I'm in Barcelona with them.

They'd never been to the great Catalan city before, and had always wanted to see it. So I let myself be cajoled into being their guide, and I was keen to give them a touch of the Barcelona lifestyle they would treasure.

And it was in 'El Xampanyet' that they experienced the right feeling. 'The Champagne' is one of the city's finest bars, run by the Esteve Family for three generations.

Traditional, yet trendy

El Xampanyet's appeal lies in its dichotomous encapsulation of Iberian values (above). It's both old and new, trendy and traditional, a place to stay or to pass through.

Everyone creates the spectacle

The tapas bar, well-oiled with the elbows of locals, serves a mouth-watering array of fresh local produce and canned seafood in the Catalan tradition. The important thing is, that both the patrons and the staff, together, are involved with creating the spectacle (above). El Xampanyet's staff know this; that people inherently know how to enjoy themselves, and that all they have to do is to help.

A sense of place

Blue Iberian glazed tiles jostle for space on the bottle-lined walls with an eclectic mix of antiques. You know you're in El Xampanyet (above). There's a feeling of place. There's also a sense of timelessness; it doesn't occur to you to think about how long you've stayed.

A feeling of generosity

The offerings are always good. Everyone will prefer some things over others, but it's always good. And most of all, there's a heartfelt feeling of generosity (above).

People come back for friends

It might be the reputation, the drinks, and the pintxos (tapas) that draws you first time through its doors, but in the end, everyone comes to El Xampanyet to be with each other, be they friends or friends not yet made.

So there you have it. What a fledgling salsa scene once had, and lost. And perhaps what it might have once again.

Loo Yen Yeo

32nd World Congress on Dance Research, Conseil International de la Danse, UNESCO

Background
The Conseil International de la Danse is the only international organisation recognised to represent all forms of dance. Called the "United Nations of Dance" it was founded within UNESCO offices, hence its acronym CID-UNESCO; and its members, institutions and individuals, represent those who have had the most significant, long-term, world-wide impact in their fields.

The people who made it possible - UFI and CID UNESCO
32nd World Congress on Dance Research, San Marino

This would be my first time at a world congress (representation by more than forty nationalities is the requisite for being called a world congress) despite being a member for nearly a decade. The timing was perfect - I'd just finished a piece of significant dance research and had a window of opportunity to travel. The prospect of returning to Italy and presenting in the Republic of San Marino proved an irresistible lure.

The Location
I arrived for registration at the sugar-white monolithic building of the Kursaal; which accommodates San Marino's state conference facilities sandwiched between Interpol's offices on one side and Radio San Marino on the other. As my security pass was being issued, I caught up on the revised schedule (I'd been travelling around Emilia Romagna with sporadic internet access) and got serious indication as to the prestige with which CID membership is regarded; the government of San Marino had not only made the Kursaal conference site available to us, and resourced it with full technical support and real-time interpreters into Italian and English, but had also reserved its historic 18th century Teatro Titano exclusively for our use over the duration.

The People
The first ones I encountered were the faces to the names with whom I'd been corresponding with for years and weeks: the organisers from CID-UNESCO and the Unione Folklorica Italiana (UFI). Then the attendees: dance practitioners - choreographers, educators, performers; and dance academics - researchers, disseminators, historians, biographers in equal measure. Their subject-matter expertise spanned from the folkloric to the modern, the sacred to the secular, the classical to the popular.

The Format
Three parallel programmes were held during the daytime.

• Dance workshops by the practitioners addressing choreography, teaching methods, dance techniques, and introduction to genre. These lasted thirty minutes.
• Dance video displays by academics and practitioners covering technical, biographical and cultural subject matter. These lasted thirty minutes.
• Dance presentations by academics on the latest research, new interpretations of existing phenomena, and previously unseen archival gems. These lasted fifteen minutes followed by a five-minute question-and-answer session.

The inclusive nature of CID tries to accommodate as many applications for programmes slots as possible but this has a down-side; there were a a number of 'no shows' due to travel funding arrangements falling through at the eleventh hour, or inability to obtain immigration visas. This led to a fluid situation where the organisers were put under considerable pressure just to keep scheduling up-to-date. The night-time hours belonged to performances at the fabulous Teatro Titano.

The Experience
The scheduling was kind to me. Either that, of I was rewarded for being organised by being scheduled to present in the first session of the first day; other people know who you are and what you do right from the start. Also, it allowed me to relax for the rest of the congress. The presentation itself was thoroughly prepared, and contrasted greatly with the majority which followed because of its pure science approach to the research, as compared to a social science one; and the large data sets involved.

The majority of the congress attendees were dance practitioners; 'do-ers' who preferred to spend their time in the more practical workshops. That's not to say that there was such a distinct segregation, a handful of us spanned both practitioner and academic arenas. I personally elected to spend the first two days supporting the lesser-attended lecture presentations, attending the workshops during the 'no shows'. The most notable workshops for me were: Karen Smith's "Give my regards to Broadway: choreography for musical theater"; Marco Santinelli's "Lyrical Contemporary Jazz"; and all of the ones on Turkish folkloric dance.

Tamalyn Dallal in Teatro Titano, San Marino
32nd World Congress on Dance Research, CID UNESCO

The theatre performances were a privilege to experience, with top billing going to all of those from the two Japanese sections who'd travelled a long way to put on a superlative expression of art. Their power and precision would have been culturally expected, but it was their expressiveness which was astounding. Also spectacular were: Tamalyn Dallal's entrancing "Middle Eastern dance performance"; Daniela Morais of Luís Damas Dance Company's fluid "Invocation"; and Nalini Toshniwal's near-spiritual "Kathak: Indian classical Dance".

And the after parties... boy, were there after-parties as only a group of pure dance professionals can have them.

But then, that's where the real value of going to a congress like this is, in the connecting of people - lunchtimes spent talking about the healing aspects of dance with dance therapist Özlem Lale Kaleli and Islamic African rhythms with Tamalyn; bad behaviour with contemporary dancer Ana-Maria Bogdanović and contact-improvisation specialist Bruno Couderc; strolling the walls with Luís Damas.

But quite ironically, it was my handling of the unexpected which left a greater mark.

The Impromptu Lesson
I'd earmarked two workshops in the morning session of the second day 'must gos'; they were on 'Cuban Salsa' by Cubans Pedro Ricardo Henry and Felix Ricardo Lopez Valdés. I turned up to the dance hall to find a rather forlorn bunch of (non-salsa) dance teachers. On asking, and after a search around the Kursaal, it turns out the Cubans were no-shows. I was crestfallen. It was the looks of disappointment and resignation that did it.

I told Marilena (Caponis, one of the organising members) that if they really wanted a salsa lesson, then I'd be happy to conduct one off-the-cuff. What's the point in being a salsa teacher if you don't teach salsa when you could? Their eyes brightened.

Now I was under pressure. The music which I'd hoped to use (it was part of my previous day's presentation) was on the slide-show laptop which was in use. I explained the situation, asked for their indulgence and said, "we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way".

I knelt down on the floor in the middle of the circle and drummed the tumbao moderno on my thighs; getting them to feel the groove, and asking them the vocalise 'gung-gung' with the double open tones.

Then I brought in the concept of call-and-response, and introduced the three beat salsa dance rhythm as a response to the 'gung gung'. At this point, with everyone present being dance educators, I explained the difference between acquired (walk-based) and learned (using structured basics) Cuban dance.

By asking my colleagues to help me by continuing the event- action (vocal cue-dance rhythm) practice, I was freed to vocalised montunos over their rhythms to provide a broader musical context. They began to get into the swing of things, especially Ingo (Guenther, master of baroque dance) who was happily 'gung-gung'ing away. They were partnered up into dance couples to increase interaction and reinforce each other rhythmically.

I swapped their partnerships often, mixing up the content with salsa walks and basics.

Then they started asking about quality of movement; so I explained the key features of East Cuban and West Cuban movement to música bailable (this was billed to be Cuban salsa after all), demonstrated it, executed it, taught it; and they all learned it, replicated it and then interpreted it - an reminder that this class comprised an altogether different standard of attendees.

Then came the obvious question, "When and why would you use which quality?"

I thought to myself, "erm... now how do I explain that?!" Then it came to me.

With my colleagues dancing salsa using Oriente (East Cuban) movement, and vocalising gung-gungs, I sang sones phrased to son clave with traditional intonations and attack. We then did the same using Occidente (West Cuban) movement, as I sang rumba-derived timba songs to rumba clave. There was even time to do a cross-comparison, which they all experienced as very valuable.

Eighteen minutes was all that I had had: from the delayed start, to the next scheduled workshop. And I made it with time enough for remedial work and to engage with some penetrating questions.

Jumping in to provide the lesson allowed me to connect with my fellow CID colleagues in a personal manner, making me a more 'known' and hence 'comforting' quantity. I left the hall having a different stature to that of when I entered. I was no longer simply an academic subject-matter expert; I was now also regarded as a dance practitioner with performance-level abilities as an all-round musician and singer; and an educator who could answer the "whys" and teach the "hows".

The Enduring Memories
The 32nd World Congress on Dance Research was declared a success despite the low attendance (earthquakes in the region a weeks prior put paid to that), and I agree. To be privileged enough to have effectively private viewings of world-class performances in a beautiful theatre, to be able to exchange ideas with people at the very top of their game, to laugh with new friends, and to dance a dreamy bolero under a vault of stars in a Sanmarinese piazza. What else could one want?

Loo Yeo


To visit Loo's Facebook photo albums on the '32nd World Congress on Dance Research, Conseil International de la Danse, UNESCO' and San Marino 2012, click on the links below.

Part One: 
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151094558390555.502507.668465554&type=3&l=594f82a341

Part Two:
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151159507785555.509703.668465554&type=3&l=85010e4583

Why Men Shouldn't Count

That's the title of the dance research paper I'd submitted for presentation at UNESCO CID's 32nd World Congress on Dance Research. And it's been accepted. That's why I've been as quiet as a mouse recently, and I will be for another month - the congress in San Marino and apart from preparing the presentation, I'll be taking the opportunity to talk dance with my colleagues in the International Dance Council, travel the Emilia Romagna region and an cap it all off with a return to beautiful Rome.

I'll cover the congress experience in a post or two, with photos, when I get back. In the meanwhile, here's the summary of the paper to whet your appetite!

San Marino, Baby! Loo Yeo, Conseil International de la Danse UNESCO

[quote]

Why Men Shouldn’t Count: Designing and assessing an event-led multimodal approach for the learning of salsa

By Loo Yen Yeo, Salsa & Merengue Society UK.

Summary
The conventional verbal approach to the teaching of salsa dancing was investigated and results indicated a bias in favour of females. A nonverbal event-led approach was developed and assessed for success rate and sex bias. Both pedagogic systems were compared and their neurological bases were discussed. Results imply an increased transfer in the burden of learning from student to instructor using the event approach. Extrapolation from neurophysiological studies leads to the hypothesis that sustained deployment of the conventional approach yields a cultural bias favouring salsa’s European component over its African influences. Exciting avenues for future research arising from salsa’s continued transnationalisation are indicated.

Keywords: dance – neurology – pedagogy – salsa – sex bias – cultural bias

[unquote]

Joy

This classic vid is one of my all time favourites because it has what every good salsa must have: Joy.



David's Bio:
http://english.cri.cn/4406/2010/08/03/2381s586404.htm

I waited years for the full-length video to be reposted on YouTube. And now it has. Hallelujah!

Loo

1st October 2010 Havana Rakatan @Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield

Havana Rakatan, the Cuban dance show spectacular, had been making large enough waves that even the regions far-flung from Britain's capital had heard of, albeit perhaps not witnessed, it. That changed as Summer's September gave way to Autumn's October, when Sheffield was chosen to launch the company's 2010 UK tour. Unusually, Havana Rakatan stayed for four nights instead of the usual Latin dance show's just one; a sure sign that artistic directors have begun to realise a-more-than-cursory interest in the genre.

http://www.sadlerswells.com/fliers/havana2010/index.htm
(All Rights Acknowledged)

I thought it'd be a fine thing to start the weekend on a high, so on Friday night I plopped myself in Circle and thumbed excitedly through the programme. Good thing I did too, because as it later transpired, no audio narrator is present with this production. By the time the show commenced, I'd gathered that it was cleaved into two acts - the first comprising five scenes set from the early colonial period until 'El Manicero' of the late 1920s, with the exception of the contemporary opening of El Malecón in contemporary Havana. The second act has scenes set in 1940s 'Golden Havana', 1950s-60s, 1970s, and Modern Havana.

A lot can be gleaned from what was emphasised and what was left out - it was clear that the show differed little from 'Lady Salsa' and 'Pasión de Buena Vista' in portraying an idealised fantastical Cuba. Havana Rakatan possessed scenes of strong multi-textural themes, whose layered meanings were sufficient to satisfy a broad audience: from the 'there-to-be-wowed-by-the-dancing' to the culture aficionado. As such, modern standards internationalised by the Buena Vista Social Club did make an appearance: 'Chan Chan' and 'Candela' although the latter was reworked in such a musically satisfying manner, I doubt that many recognised it from the album.

The company's band "Turquino" was typical of a stage ensemble where versatility is paramount. Many of its nine personnel (excluding lead male and lead female vocals) were multi-instrumentalists: the bassist taking on lead vocals; the bongocero also playing timbales; and horn players singing backing vocals. The phrasing of their music was spot-on for each genre - it's not an easy task to play well the musics spanning more than a century. Turquino's professionalism came across best in their understated nature, never detracting from the main focus of the show which was the dancing.

It's here that the show was greater than any other of its ilk.

Being unable to rely upon the crutch of the spoken word, the choreography had to convey every facet of the narrative. The dancers, being graduates of Havana's Escuela Nacional de Arte were proficient in timing, execution and performance, although admittedly some were markedly better than others. There were a few surprises too, some great 'salsa' style dancers were less comfortable performing rumba and vice versa. And I found the rumba columbia segment too tinged with jazz movement and not flavoured enough from Matanzas, but I'd forgive the necessity to sacrifice authenticity for the sake accessibility.

If there was an Achilles' Heel in the repetoire, it was in the execution of the non-native forms like the mambo where the dancers' foot-speed was sluggish (the lead male vocalist possessed far superior foot-speed than the dancers; he could have showed them a thing or two), and the body-speeds lacked shading. Likewise the brass section was too small to deliver brashness and punch, and neither did the timbales attack quite early enough. But those were simply minor shadows in what is a high quality commission by Sadlers Wells. Havana Rakatan bears all the hallmarks of that Theatre's excellent standards - the set design, lighting, and sound reinforcement enhance the experience without being obtrusive. The programme notes could benefit from the same level of attention, given its primacy from the lack of commentary.

Havana Rakatan has come closest to transporting me to escapist Cuba, and is easily the show I would most rather to see again.

Loo Yen Yeo

Measurements Of Expression

The music desk's been my hangout for the past five weeks, and there're two edited songs 'Corazón Fugitivo' and 'Yo Soy El Sonero' sitting smugly on disk to show for it. A vast chunk of the work has been in getting each instrument track aligned; a weakness of computer-based digital recording is latency, where there is a delay in the delivery of music to the recording musician. This delay can vary up to twenty, even forty, milliseconds which means a newly-recorded track is slightly out of sync with older ones.

It not might seem like a lot, but given that the effect is cumulative, and that the ear begins to distinguish two sounds of similar loudness as individual ones from thirty milliseconds onwards (see Haas effect), the alignment of instrumental tracks becomes a key qualitative issue.

That's at the coarse level.

At the fine detail level in terms of artistic interpretation, the single millisecond is King. No-one I've yet encountered can listen to two examples and objectively say, "that's a millisecond later than the other", but I'd contend that that's not how a millisecond's variance is heard. My suggestion is that such minute fractions of time are detectable, and that they are interpretable by the listener in terms of emotion.

If I may take Catie's flute relative to the other instruments as an example: one thousandth of a second (or even fraction thereof) late to early, changes the feeling of her performance from sluggish, disinterested, passive, laid back, mechanical, keen, energised, nervous, pushy, to single-minded. Ten milliseconds is the span of that gamut from end to end. One day after the CD is done, I shall put these up on the salsa website as audio examples.

This concept of fine timing has tremendous bearing on the professional dancer, who trains long and hard for consistency, precision and accuracy - because a millisecond in time, is a millimetre in movement. I've found very few salsa professionals capable of communicating feeling through their bodies in the way that ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov did in a scene in White Nights; he is, for me, dance's equivalent of Maria Callas.

Lest I end up sounding too high-brow, I chose these two because they are paragons of their Art. It is not enough for me to be dazzled by high-speed spins and 'armography'; Wonderment is an easier feeling to evoke than Longing or bittersweet Joy - Wonderment doesn't require the performer to reach out and resonate deeply with their audience.

Salsa has a rich heritage and doesn't deserve to be short-changed with "it's only a social dance" as an argument for a less-than-exemplary emotionally-engaging performance. I look forward to the day when our displays in salsa-the-dance match the millimeter-commanding expressiveness of Baryshnikov. And why shouldn't we expect it to be so, since our evocative performances of salsa-the-music already stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Greats of other genres?

We certainly don't make excuses for Beny Moré, Hector Lavoe and Ismael Rivera as being "only social singers".

Yeo Loo Yen

Playing The Silences

Two weeks of standing in front of the timbales and I'd love to describe progress as being superhuman. But I can't. 'Steady' is the best I can muster. But then, there's always next week...

The lion's share of the hours have been devoured by the fundamentals - I've approached this little escapade as somewhat of a restart, a chance to put the perfection of hindsight and years of accumulated experience into practice.

How many times have we uttered the phrase "if only I knew then, what I know now" and had the opportunity to do it all over again?

I'd decided long ago that closed strokes, sometimes called press strokes, would form the backbone of my playing. This is when the timbale sticks stay on the shells after each strike to mute their ringing. It's decidedly old school, from back in the days of the danzón when the dance salons of Cuba knew nothing of microphones. Timbales were played in this way so as not to overpower the delicate violins, just perfect for 4de12's charanga line-up and the confines of the practice room.

Old Skool is a patient person's game; it takes more energy to perform and takes longer to learn. But what it yields are greater dynamics and more articulate expression.

The dynamics come from a greater contrast between the sound of the initial strike and the silence of the shells being closed to ringing - the timbalero plays the silences. The articulation comes the way the sticks come off the shell, either: straight off; or slightly rolled off, towards or away from the drummer.

Its brought back early memories of training as a dancer: learning to thread movement through each floor contact; and why foot placements, on and off, are more articulate than footfalls. The principles are identical: minimise movement to achieve consistency, and lessen background noise so that actions can be clearer without needing to be louder.

Dancing the silences draws your partner into your sense of time.

Playing the silences does the same. The technicalities might be different, some analogous some not, but both are also alike in requiring an exacting level of detail at fundamental level for success. With the timbales, for example:

• control resonance by striking the shell directly opposite the rubber stand-off, so that vibrations travelling clockwise and anti-clockwise have identical distances to travel;
• sense the stand-off through the timbale sticks when the shell is placed under different levels of compression;
• the sticks must become extensions of the hands, where the position of the tips and the speed of their movement are known even when they're unsighted; and
  
• know which part of the stick gives the best feel of the stand-off, the best sound, and the most versatility in voicing.
  

I can be a better musician because of my dancing. And there is much that can be transferred between the two.

Particularly with silence.

Loo Yeo

The Artistry Of Vulnerability

Kate is a sweet, diminutive, young English rose.

An organisational reshuffle six months ago caused our spheres to overlap, and we've become casual acquaintances. Last week when I strolled into the reception, she motioned to me and asked, "do you dance?"

I decided to play along, shifting subtly to a leaden pose. "Do you really think I look like a dancer?" (add slightly disbelieving tone)

"Yes you do actually."

Darn. Normally that works. This one's a sharp cookie.

Kate had always thought that I'd looked familiar but could never place where she'd known me from. A chance conversation with a colleague let the cat out of the bag. It turns out that I'd shared a song with her one salsa night eight years ago. She told me she was just beginning then, and still remembers it clearly. Because even though the song had stopped, she kept on dancing on the inside.

A genuine compliment.

Kate's caused me to think about the persistence of a dance experience. What turns it into an Event? An landmark memory?

Louie Spence said that the performance of dance can be so emotionally evocative that it can make the watcher cry. The fourth episode of SKY1's exuberant 'Pineapple Dance Studios' is the best so far, especially the five minute sequence where Louie is down but not out after realising his age, being unable to stay the distance though an hour-long warm-up, which the teenage dancers around him don't even break a sweat through.

He rallies spectacularly once the music comes on and the youngsters, with their physical prowess, are awestruck. The videotape editing leads the episode to skim over the most important artistic truth that Louie reveals to his young charges; that a performance at the pinnacle of Art requires you to expose your emotional vulnerability to your audience.

It takes a mature performer to believe, and trust, that the audience's acceptance of a genuine effort is unconditional.

I've been wrestling with this since performing in Yarm. Being a better singer is now no longer about skill, it's about letting down my defenses to let people see how the song makes me feel. This invitation to vulnerability is so very alien, complete faith to be placed in strangers.

It's the reason why we seldom look into the eyes of those but our loved ones. As windows unto the soul, looking into someone's soul requires that we expose our own to them.

All the enduring artistic Events have this in common. An truth of expression born of vulnerability.

That's why I take umbrage to 'styling' as it's purveyed - it is not delivered nor received as an aspect of form for the conveyance of artistic expression. It is manufactured and consumed as a pair of sunglasses to shield the soul, a façade behind which we can shelter our vulnerabilities in comfort and yet still sell to our audience-partners as 'art'.

Each dance robbed of the possibility of forever.

But there is one great positive to say. In this place, those of us willing to risk, stand out to our kindred. Because we all show to each other, and are recognised by, our calling.

Loo Yen

A Reason For The Timbales

The past three months have been a musically busy time, as I've been leading 4 de Diciembre through a comprehensive series of new arrangements. The outcome has surpassed even my best expectations; good songs have metamorphosed into artistically compelling works - it has to be put down to working with a collection of great musicians. During this period, I've had at various times to play (while singing) a variety of rhythms on congas (such as guaguancó contra-clave, songo con marcha, mozambique) and on hand percussion (timbale bell, clave) to tease out the right groove.

Along the way our little revamp-fest exposed a pair of Achilles' heels which might one day stunt my growth as a rumbero/salsero: that my command of clave was not yet instinctive, and that I was still an eighty pound weakling in the rhythmic independence department. Playing clave is a world away from clave phrasing, and I used to think that the phrasing bit would be more difficult to achieve, since you'd have to keep both the clave and what you were playing in mind. I was wrong.

What I learned was that it takes a stellar level of ability to make those five notes sing - in that rhythm there is no hiding place.

To achieve mastery, I needed to play it more often. And it'd have to be 'extra-curricular' with respect to the band, since the hand percussion I play when performing is necessarily pulse-based for the sake of the dancers, and it also sets up the rhythmic structure in which our conguero can improvise. An exception to this rule is "Tempest", one of our newly (re)arranged songs, which now works best with the timbale bell pattern played on the mounting block of my trusty bongó bell.

So to recap, I needed to work on my independence, internalise clave, and play highly syncopated bell rhythms. What might be the best way of doing this?

hmm...

My anticipated restoration to the timbales has been an on-and-off lunchtime topic of conversation with Christophe who, as a dancer, could anticipate a number of benefits:

• The ability to tune in better to the polyrhythms of the instrument, understand its phrasing, and become more sensitive to transitions and their cues.
• Use dance movement and music as mutually supporting activities in evolving soloing strategies.
  
• Increasing four-way independence to five (a giant leap for a percussionist dancer).
• Timbales interpret at least two rhythms if not three, as compared to the congas' one. A window upon hybridity, the timbale domain not only encompasses the AfroCuban domain, but intersects others like pop/funk/rock.
  

And, it's the last major piece of my recording project jigsaw which has been in hiatus. The only thing holding me back was the commitment - I needed to schedule three weeks of daily high-quality practice to establish momentum.

But as I say to my students, "people always make time for what they feel is important".

Was it important enough for me? How much of this was 'comfort zone' resistance?

On Saturday, I went upstairs and unpacked the timbales.

I'm actually lucky enough to possess two: as custodian of the band's Latin Percussion (LP) Tito Puente timbales in brass, the industry reference standard; and my own personal Meinl Luis Conte timbales in cymbal-quality brass. I've had the Luis Conte ones for four years, and had every intention of playing them, but then 4de12 suddenly needed a lead singer. The rest is history.

So, as it transpires, I've never laid a stick on them; that was a pleasure left for our former timbaleros. Considering the LPs and the Meinls side-by-side, it took five minutes to decide on the Meinls:

1. I like the larger shell area for playing the cáscara (something which LP addressed in latter revisions).
2. I prefer the sound of the shells - their hand-hammered surface has a warmer sound, and strikes have body and yet can cut through the mix.
3. Most importantly the Meinl shells are more sensitive, less forgiving of inconsistent technique. They would take longer to master but, being more articulate, will reward more musical players.
4. Of all the cowbells that were in the house to constitute a timbale set-up (I've mugged enough cows for four sets), the Meinl ones best suited the sound of the timbalero that I will be.
   

In the best AfroCuban tradition, I cleaned away the neglect of the set's previous caretakers, selected my bells, adjusted the heights and angles, and prepared a place of commitment in the front room.

Then I washed my hands and began to play.

Loo Yen

16th February 2010 Pasión De Buena Vista@The Lyceum, Sheffield

Although Sheffield ranks as one of England's largest cities, its status on the Latin music circuit is best described as 'provincial', averaging just one concert by the Buena Vista Social Club franchise and one Cuban show at its theatres per year; so the appearance of any such performance company is hugely anticipated, and normally sold out well beforehand.

News of the 'Pasión De Buena Vista' show rattled along the local salsa grapevine a good three months before the performance date, but work had me wriggling on tenterhooks until the weekend preceding. Fortunately there are certain advantages to attending shows unaccompanied; the best of which is the likelihood of securing good "late return" single seats, and my slightly-worse-for-wear ticketer helped find a great one in Circle.

I knew little about this troupe when I parked myself in the plush chair, so I made a start by ogling the stage layout. It looked promising: keyboard, bass, a trapset-timbale combination, a conga-bongó combination, a microphone setup for a four or five piece brass section, a tres on a stand, and a full trinity of batá drums; plus there was ample stage-front for at least four dancing couples to do their rumba thing. Then Meinl logos on the congas caught my eye and my hunch was confirmed by the souvenir programme: this was a German production.

The glossy booklet was filled with attractive earthy-toned action shots of dancers and singers captured mid-performance. It exuded dynamism. Delving deeper, the supporting texts of introduction and biography of the star vocalists came across as stilted and typographically challenged. This was an uncommitted effort through a patent lack of attention.

I sincerely hoped this wasn't an indicator.

A solo female dancer opened the show, moving to the sounds of the batá. Dressed in red and black and clutching a crooked stick, she was clearly the representation of Eleguá, Orisha of pathways, who is traditionally invoked at the beginning of all Afro-Cuban occassions. While her circular shrugging movements were correct, the stillness of her spinal axis showed me that sacred dance was not her bag - this was a rendition purely for the commercial world.

Eleguá's invocation gave way to the introduction of four other figures dressed in green and black; gold and blue; red and white; and blue and white, representing Ogún, Ochún, Changó, and Yemayá respectively. They symbolically enacted a pataki [Yoruban fable] capturing their sometimes tumultuous relationships with each other, although it was not clear which fable (or combinations of fable), and which version was being told.

Advertently or not, this act set out the entire premise of the show: the conjuration of a 'Fantastical Cuba' as escape, and one that host Knut Gambusch's stilted narrative tried to reinforce again and again. Otherwise, there was no overarching structure of storytelling that I could discern.

The two setlists punctuated by an intermission comprised of some very Latin standards: 'Bésame mucho', 'Quizás, quizás, quizás', Benny Moré's homage to his birthplace 'Santa Isabel de las Lajas'; 'El Manisero'; 'Píntate los labios María' complete with a Michael Jackson dance tribute; and 'Changó 'ta vení' interpreted as a pilón.

Modern classics also had their place, such as Francisco Repilado's 'Chan Chan'; Celia Cruz's popular interpretation 'La vida es un carnaval' where the dancers were appropriately dressed in the blue and white of her patron Orisha; and Gloria Estefan's 'Mi Tierra'. The latter struck me as unusual; that a Resident Cuban band would choose to play an Exilic Cuban composition.

There was one little treat - an original number by tresero/trombonist Yuilie Velazquez-Guerra, arranged as a songo con marcha. Although bringing in the kick drum in on the downbeats bogged down the rhythm somewhat (I suspect it was meant to imply the bomba) the highly compact show band 'La Ideal' negotiated complex timba, and the other genres demanded of it, with flair. You'd have to go a long way to find a more professional support band; you noticed them only when they wanted to be noticed, because La Ideal knew what the true star of the show was.

The Singing.

I once thought that Ibrahim Ferrer was one of a kind. But that night I was entranced with the voice of someone cut from the same cloth - Inocente "Pachín" Fernandez-Jímenez. His phrasing, his attack, and his vocal texture was so similar; and yet so authentically individual, that they could have been brothers. I gave silent thanks for the chance experience. While it's true that Maida Castaneda-Cordovi and Tomás Sanchez-Aguilera have the strong voices we have come to expect in the Cuban vein, Inocente's lyrical qualities place him very much in a league apart.

I could have listen to him 'til dawn.

In that light, the dancing was disappointing; the lackadaisical nature marked it as the afterthought of the production. Although a myriad of genres were attempted, from conga de comparsa to chachachá, their navigation lurched from placidly mid-stream to dangerously rocky. There were three prominent weaknesses:

1. The dancers lacked the stagecraft to draw in and engage their audience.
2. The angular velocities of their movements were constant but too slow. Whilst it gave their execution the characteristic Cuban smoothness, the manoeuvres were never properly finished. The result was a great deal of jarring and rushed transitions as dancers played 'catch-up' with their routine elements.
3. The choreography emphasised quantity and not quality, the dancers always pulled up one iteration short of demonstrating virtuosity.
   

'Just good enough' seemed to be the mantra of Pasión de Buena Vista's production company. It extended to the sound system, where only one pair of 15" low-frequency units was used to move the mass of air in the auditorium (most companies would have specified three pairs); and the sound did suffer for the decision.

Pasión de Buena Vista feels as if it started life as a business plan as opposed to a burning desire to entertain. The mimicry of concept places it as a fast follower to "Lady Salsa" but without the cohesive storytelling nor attention to detail. Both have tried to leverage off World Circuit's Buena Vista Social Club brand, with the German production more blatantly so - the attempted linkages via the artist biographies border on the barefaced and read as tenuous at best.

For me, the frontispiece collage of the souvenir programme is the perfect identity for Pasión de Buena Vista. Some people would either not notice or be ambivalent out its patchwork character. Others might be sensitive to the artistic contrivance and feel the jarring of its elements.

These people would feel the same respectively of the show.

I'd go to it again. For the luscious singing and the music. The dancing can wait.

Loo Yeo

13th February 2010 Stomp@The Lyceum, Sheffield

On a brisk winter's Saturday morning, I sauntered into the Box office of the newly re-fitted Crucible theater. It's the Eve of the Year of Tiger, which I thought was a fantastic reason for an unplanned matinee ticket - I'm quite the impulse shopper when it comes to Shows, and a decadent afternoon sounded like a perfect way to usher in Chinese New Year.

"And I'll have one for Stomp as well, please," I heard myself say after securing a seat for my intended target, 'Pasión de Buena Vista' on the day-after-tomorrow.

Stomp are a performance company of percussionist dancers, and their acts unfold in the setting of an urban street, which gives what they do a modern yet accessible context. The eight protagonists assume delight in using everyday items as drumming surfaces; masking, or more appropriately bridging the gap between the drummer and the layperson - using a disposable lidded cup with straw as a friction drum instead of a cuíca; halved plastic storage drums as surdos; matchboxes as pandeiros; and brooms as, well... brooms.

I'm still wondering how they managed to tune the brooms, or maybe was it the floor panels?

Stomping: Drum and Bass

The structure of their story-telling began with the simplicity of a headed broom: its bristles on the floor as scraper, its head on the floor as drumstick, and its handle against another as woodblock. There was a restrained elegance about the opener - as if to draw in but not to overwhelm; to engage and gently challenge the assumptions of the audience, causing them to think again about what everyday objects mean; to see the humour of invention.

This was the theme as the rhythms and use of ordinary items became increasingly complex - the cheeky, almost impertinent delivery kept the seated enthralled, warding off the clutches of technical estrangement.

The Lyceum's spaces swelled with rhythm: I noticed flavours of Brazil's batucada; Bali's gamelan; the sartenes of the comparsa; hints, perhaps, of the Dahomey; to the gumboots of South Africa. Not that it matters. Stomp succeeds because it understands that the minutae of names and techniques of rhythms aren't important, but that in the grandest scheme of things, our most primal selves understand and respond to rhythm.

Gumboots: This is how ya do it!

The Energy of their performance spans the continents. And the maturity of their company can be seen in the slickness of their delivery; geographical reach from South Africa (gumbootland) to the United Sates; demographic independence of young and old alike; and diversity of activity in entertainment and education sectors.

Stomp uses the narrative of rhythm to show us how much fun we could let into our daily lives if only we'd wear different eyes .

"This is comedy, but its music too" (The Independent)

As a percussionist, the show was a reassurance of how far my understanding of rhythm: its power, types, and strategies; has come along. But I received the most counsel in the aspect of the dancer.

Analysis of salsa class levels reveals the convention that dancers are judged to be better according to their ability to execute complex combinations - that criterion is the prime class differentiator, clubs and congresses alike.

Stomp demonstrably validates an alternative premise: that someone can make him or herself instinctually understandable by another, at a level which transcends abilities and conscious command, by quieting the extraneous that the rhythms may speak.

A polyrhythmic expressionist who can command the silence.

Loo Yeo

6th-9th November 2009 Salsa Workshops @Red Hat Salsa, Reading (Afterword)

A week has passed and with things having settled down a bit, I can make a more detached assessment of the workshops. Although I'd prepared feedback forms for use after each session, it transpired that there wasn't a chance to deploy them. Instead I've had to rely on anecdotal responses collected from Red Hat and corroborate them with my own observations.

Taking the positive points first, as every educative critique should:

• Most attendees said that they learnt a lot, from a really different, interesting and refreshing perspective.
• They felt it was good to hear from someone of my background and experience.
  
• Even self-confessed non-instructor dancers learned more than they thought they were going to.
• A number would attend my workshops again.
  

Great! On the downside... :

1. There were a few who felt it was a little biased towards my way of teaching and therefore not sufficiently relevant to themselves.
2. Many felt the Saturday was too long.
3. A couple said there was not enough dancing.
   
   

Thoughts on Point 1
It's clear from the title, schedules and course blurb that the 'Year In A Day' is exactly what it says on the tin - progressive over one year and skills-based.

But I surmise that the comment comes from a different place: from those who conduct mainly stand-alone combination-based sessions. I'd sensed that a few couldn't see the relevance in possessing a Hierarchy of Development plan which extended beyond a discrete one hour lesson.

I would have to disagree on the basis that such lessons would still be reliant upon returning students in the short-to-mid term, and that therefore a Hierarchy could be applied to the benefit of the individual at remedial level. Such a treatment would add value to the learning experience, augmenting it above commodity level and convert returners into the mid-to-long term. However there would be an increased effort cost that some instructors might be unwilling to pay.

Thoughts on Point 2
In terms of duration, the Saturday was advertised as beginning at 10:00hrs and ending at 18:45hrs; it actually ran from 10.30hrs until 19:00hrs.

I suspect that this comment was more in response to the sustained cognitive load generated by the session; "long" is an expression used commonly by students to describe learning saturation. The onset of saturation could have been delayed if the stream of concepts had been broken up with assimilation practices, but that was not an option available.

I have, however, already taken this under advisement and will make much firmer recommendations regarding session content in future.

Thoughts on Point 3
Again, this I would interpret as being an alternate expression to Point 2 - the desire for more assimilation time at the expense of content. It's a piece of feedback that I'd anticipated, and one that I wholeheartedly agree with.

In Conclusion
The dryness of the feedback shouldn't be allowed to overshadow what a pleasurable experience it was; to meet so many engaging instructors who take their own personal development, to the benefit of their students, so seriously - Ali, Penny, Sharon, Chunky, and Marco to name but a few. It's been invaluable to keep apace of the challenges they that face in an increasingly competitive arena.

Also reassuring, to me personally, was the affirmation that there is indeed an audience for an alternative skills-based approach; and that I had all the facilities at my disposal which allowed for effective delivery of content, by way of literature, music and instruments. Special mention must be made of the LP compact congas which really came into their own that weekend.

"Some people have been really raving over how great they were", said Sharon.

That's good to know.

Loo Yeo

6th-9th November 2009 Salsa Workshops @Red Hat Salsa, Reading (Part 2)

Mercifully, Sharon had scheduled a mid-day start and I spent a relaxed Sunday morning preparing the musical examples, making notes of time codes, and refining teaching points for the first session: 'The Route to Improvisation'.

This workshop on improvisatory dancing required the most attention, not due to a lack of familiarity with the material, but because I wasn't as fluent with the structure as I would have liked - the Hierarchy of Development of a stand-alone session is chalk and cheese to a long-term progression. Also, I was concerned with the management of expectation; where the only exposure that the majority of dancers have to improvisatory dancing is through the routine of shines.

Bar Risa on Friar Street was only six minutes' walk from the Mercure St.George, and I stepped through the tradesmen's entrance well ahead of time.

There were just eight takers for this session, but reassuringly they were all dance instructors from yesterday. It told me that the material from 'A Year In A Day' had resonated with two-thirds of the teachers present there; strongly enough for them to want to know more. Fantastic! I quickly adjusted the delivery to suit educators, cut out the redundant material, and obtained their permission to take the session into greater depth.

The couple of hours passed as an eye-blink and it proved an unqualified success: there had been plenty of discussion, practice, and sharing of little-known hard-won material. But it must be said that this was could not have been possible without the tremendous amount of hard work invested the day before.

Two non-teachers, an interested musician and journeyman dancer, joined us for the final workshop: 'Dancing Beyond The Count'. This was potentially going to be difficult, what with 80% of the class already being so far ahead in terms of development and groundwork information. I discreetly sought Sharon's advice, as the promoter, as to whether she wanted me to deliver focused on the incoming duo. We decided to continue targeting educators as the primary audience and that I would address the newcomers at remedial level and during the breaks.

Once again, we proceeded well beyond the original schedule and I tied it back in the content of the workshops before, culminating in the dancing of the son montuno to Sierra Maestra's cover of Arsenio Rodríguez's Dundunbanza. I'm fairly certain that this was the first time the son montuno had ever been danced in Reading.

And then my weekender was all over.

I book-ended my trip by attending Red Hat Salsa's Sunday evening session at Jongleur's upstairs of Bar Risa. It was a nice way to unwind, meet more of the dancers and say my goodbyes.

Well, now it's time to pack up. There's a train to catch.

Loo Yeo

6th-9th November 2009 Salsa Workshops @Red Hat Salsa, Reading (Part 1)

It's Monday. The salsa weekend is hours passed and I'm in my hotel room packing for the return trip to Sheffield. With a belly-full of breakfast, there's no better time than now to get a first-impression assessment of the workshop sessions.

My introductory glimpse into Reading's salsa scene began with dinner at Sharon and Ed's on Friday night. It was the ideal way to make our personal acquaintances, talking about how Red Hat Salsa came to be; the regional salsa scene; and for me to understand why they left the beaten track in engaging me to run these far-from-typical sessions. Sharon's genuine appetite for knowledge is vividly striking; something reinforced, unsolicited, over the next days by teachers who've had occasion to work with her.

For dessert, we hopped into the car for a trip to Bracknell.

It was their monthly shindig at the Hilton Hotel where I was at various times during the evening an irrepressible beginner in Sharon's lesson; tripping the fancy stuff with the local salseros; trading wit with the two other teachers that evening, Penny and Chunky; taking in the happenings on the floor; and listening to the kinds of tracks coming over the PA. It was a precious chance to assess the Latin dance scene, at ground level, ahead of time.

Saturday dawned beautifully, but its promise was marred by a tardy taxi which landed me thirty minutes behind and starting on the back foot. The wintry community room was filled with two dozen dancers; half of whom were instructors, some having flatteringly travelled from near three hours away. It was never going to be easy - the extensive content and the compressed time-frame of delivery made sure of that. But having to make up more than thirty minutes, AND re-pitch the specification from a secondary to a primary target audience of teachers on-the-fly without losing the non-teachers... okay, this was going to be a robust test of preparation and experience.

The detailed nature of the workshop specifications were the biggest safety net there could ever have been. I kept to the schedules as much as I could because of the coherence already built into them, omitting or skimming over the less significant; and in so doing increased their value as post-session reference documents. Sadly a portion of the time allotted to the practical exercises, the most valuable aspect of any workshop, was sacrificed in lieu of content coverage. The day had a feel more akin to a seminar than a workshop and I've braced myself mentally for that as feedback. To avoid the delivery becoming dry, I made use of plenty of musical examples, including an impromptu rendition of 'El Carretero' as a son element.

The Saving Grace came in the latter part of the day as dancers and teachers warmed up to exchange their experiences in free-flowing discussion. That, arguably, is THE greatest benefit of any well-facilitated session. It told me that despite the less-than-ideal combination of factors, a true workshop-style learning environment had been established. I adjusted the content and presentation at every moment of the day, taking on the feedback articulated or expressed through body language, and making sure to solicit the opinions of the silent during the breaks. The vast majority was positive and helpfully constructive.

Nine-hours of high-intensity delivery left me depleted, and I dropped off my things at the hotel with relief before venturing out to the Oracle, Reading's rather snazzy shopping district, in search of food.

I'd spotted a 'Yo Sushi' bar on the way through, and decided to salve my spirit with some Japanese food. I never eat alone at these places because the hypnotic conveyor-belt of morsels seems to open the gateway to conversation. With Dave the visiting American, we chatted about a Brazillian restaurant we both frequented in Singapore; with the Nepalese sushi chef it was knives, especially the 'kukri' - the knife of the Gurkhas; and the English and Nepalese waiting staff, about the dishes they favoured at the establishment.

What the Oracle looks like after a Japanese fish dinner

Retreating sated to the stillness of my room, I began rallying for the challenges of the Sunday ahead.

(On to Part 2)

Loo Yeo

A Weekender At Red Hat Salsa

"That's a whole weekender" remarked Christophe.

I hadn't thought of it that way. It was that dwelling period that we have over coffees just after lunch - one of the little luxuries we to afford ourselves as we catch up. The inimitable man from Biarritz had just asked me how much teaching I was to do in Reading next weekend. Christophe knew my nose had been kept firmly to the keyboard; organising material for the workshops, and having to put plenty of salsa-related items, like the updating of this blog, on hold.

It happened a while ago when Sharon, who runs the successful Red Hat Salsa in the Reading/Bracknell area, contacted me by email after happening across the salsa-merengue.co.uk website in a bid for more words on salsa's history. We kept the jungle drums beating while I was in the Far East, and together finally arrived at a date, times, and topics for things she wanted me to cover for Red Hat.

Although I'd already sent outlines to her whilst in Penang, I decided to make a rod for my own back and go further by preparing indicative schedules, just as I'd done for Tony Piper at 12th Night.

I regard this as simply 'best practice'.

• A well prepared schedule questions the best order of priority for the learning points, identifies aspects that might otherwise be overlooked, and forces the design of flexibility into its structure.
  
  
• A primary factor affecting the performance of a guest instructor is an understanding of local learning culture. Treated as product specification document, the process has given us both (with me being the provider and Red Hat Salsa the client) a chance to prepare something suited to the purpose.
  
  
• It informs parties of what to expect, that way only those genuinely interested in the topics will attend. Sometimes this can be a source of tension for promoters who want as strong an attendance as possible, but thankfully most acknowledge that a successful workshop is of better long-term value than a well-attended disappointing one.
  
  
• Detailed documents are a source of strong marketing support to the promoter, and having been on the receiving end more than just a couple of times, I make sure I do my utmost to help.
  
  
• A schedule also provides an educator (i.e. me) with a performance benchmark against which feedback can be used to identify areas of success and improvement.
  

I also took it as an opportunity to do some long-overdue house-keeping of my learning materials.

A question which posed some internal conflict was, 'should I restrict circulation of the documents or not?'. All know-how is hard-worn, and certainly in the case of Verdant, the more important the information, the more qualification is required of the potential recipient.

But salsa is different.

For better or worse, I don't instruct in the same arena as most social salsa teachers so there is no need to indulge in competitive defensive practices. But there is something more fundamental at heart - when I first started teaching, I made a personal promise not to hold back; this was after experiences, with myself as student, of teachers who did. When I emailed the files to Sharon, I made no mention of any restrictions in distribution - they've since passed through her mailing lists.

So here it is, the workshops for Red Hat Salsa next weekend:

1. Saturday Morning: A Year In A Day, Part 1 - The Efficient Mover
2. Saturday Afternoon: A Year In A Day, Part 2 - Power and Culture
3. Sunday Noon: Hear It, Imagine It, Dance It - The Route to Improvisatory Dancing
4. Sunday Afternoon: Dancing Beyond The Count

That's a whole weekender alright!

Loo Yen Yeo

A Depth of Latin Culture: The Meaning of an Accent (Part 4)

Afterword
To a native Spanish speaker, it's usually possible to place the origins of a person by the accent he or she carries. Salsa is no different, but it seldom occurs to my students to think 'what does my manner of dancing speak of me?'

What accents inform the Colombian, Cuban, Puerto Rican, Nuyorican and Venezuelan schools for example? Which of these are geographic, to be distinguished from the personal? What does the ungrounded the heel of the North American back-step actually mean (and it's not necessarily to do, as often professed, with not wanting to step on someone)?

Everything in the earlier parts can be distilled into one point: to achieve cultural depth, salsa dancers would need to learn more than salsa. Because how someone moves tells me plenty.

Maybe:

• the angle of your foot says you're quoting from urban Cuba;
• the shimmering quiver of your hips driven upwards from the knees is the voice of Puerto Rico's bomba;
  
• a certain stillness of your upper body hints at class distinction, perhaps from Caracas;
• your movement, inspired more by shells or skins, clues me to the kind of salsa playing in you car - or if you have any playing at all.
  

It's easy once you know where, and how, to look.

And for many, salsa is all they know and any accents I express pass them by unnoticed. It's a shame, because the subtext of a dance adds much to the whole enjoyment of it.

So leaping several logical steps ahead, perhaps the more pertinent question is, 'what would I want my dancing to say of me?'

looyenyeo