New Year's Eve 2013 Old Skool Disco @Creswell Social Centre

I'd just settled down in front of the telly-box in anticipation of a musical evening capped with Jool's Annual Hootenanny. Everything was right: the comfy socks, the hot beverage, mince pies... New Year's Eve is quality 'me' time.

Then the phone rang:

"Loo, get ready. I'm coming by to pick you up in 30 minutes. We're going to an old skool disco," said Esh.
"Eh?" said I.
"Old Skool Disco.." enunciated Esh, much more slowly.
I thought he'd gone looney-tunes. 'Why on Earth would I give up a Hootenanny for a night that can't even manage to play one song all the way through?' I thought to myself.
"It's at a possible venue for our dance night," cajoled Esh.

At that point, the prospect of quality 'me' time bleated as it was sacrificed on the altar of Latin social dance. "Okay," I sighed.

An hour and a half later and we, Esh and I, were standing at the threshold of Creswell Social Club's main hall. This is what we saw:

Old Skool

Revellers shuffled from foot to foot, clutching their prized golden nectar in plastic cups, some mouthing lyrics from fragments of songs by Bon Jovi. Air, made acrid with artificial smoke, occasionally lanced by sharp beams of primary colour, pounded with the weight of an overpowered system. Spots of white versus off-white battled for supremacy across the lid of a giant box.

I looked to my right and read Esh's expression.
"Not feeling the love, huh?" I observed.
He shook his head, despondent.
"Don't worry, I can make this work" I said.
He looked surprised, tinged with a good handful of disbelief.
"Trust me."

This wasn't my first rodeo, and I could see its potential immediately. The plus features of the room were its:

• width - close enough for people to mingle and not feel exposed when crossing over to ask for a dance;
• size - large enough for a decent capacity yet, crucially, intimate enough that a good atmosphere could be had with smaller attendance numbers;
• height - the ceiling was high enough to draw away some of the heat, and had fans for circulation; and,
• dance-floor - a slightly-sprung hardwood floor, kept in good nick (even past the spilt beer), with no detectable steel-joist hard-points beneath.

All the key aspects for dancers' comfort were addressed in the room. With the right lighting, and imaginative dressing, this unpromising duckling could be swanified.

"I need to check their loos" I said. The business-person in me learned, a long time ago, that the state of the toilet facilities are the clearest indication of staff morale. Creswell's were modern and immaculate, easily the best I'd seen at a social club anywhere. Dancers with expensive dance shoes appreciate good facilities.

Steve then took Esh and I into the kitchen area to meet the venue manager, Pat - a slim lady, with bright eyes, gentle smile, and kind no-nonsense demeanour. She listened to our plans in an unhurried manner (in the midst of a busy New Year's Eve service period), then said, "Let me get out the venue diary for the year."

I'd expected her to say "let me think about this and contact you." Caught on the hop, I knew we had to take an immediate plunge or lose organisational credibility. We'd come prepared. I'd already identified the first Saturday of every month as the best candidate:

• Fridays were always a rush for most working people, yours truly included, whereas a Saturday evening event meant for a more leisurely build-up of anticipation;
• the first Saturday of the month slotted in well with the cycle of monthly events in the region, it having become available after a promoter had decided to cease a running regular event; and,
• previous experience told me that the first Saturday after pay day was less vulnerable to seasonal fluctuations.

We committed to start on the 1st of March 2014 - a mere two months away - and confirmed the dates for six months, pencilling the other dates for the remainder of the year (with a view to confirming them or not after an internal four-month review).

Esh and I left Creswell with a sharply renewed focus. There's nothing like making a commitment to crystallise the mind. Now I have to make good on my promise of transforming Creswell into a delightful swan of a place to Latin dance in.

I took a deep breath.
Loo

14th September 2012 SalsaWorks @The Engine Shed, Wetherby

Closure is about beginnings.

Twelve months ago when the Pipers and I left the Engine Shed at the end of the night after Palenke's gig, there was no inkling of the turmoil which would buffet the venue, SalsaWorks and the lives of those involved. The Shed's unfortunate closure removed a salsa landmark from England's North, leaving a vacuum which many have since tried to fill. With true doggedness the SalsaWorks team continued to put on the same schedule of attractions - performers, teachers, and disc jockeys - re-homed at York's Holgate Club. But the Engine Shed's uniqueness, the atmosphere, the friendliness, the feel, the spirit, remained elusively... unique.

Then when Tony told me over the phone that the Shed was to open its doors, still as a dance venue, once again; and that SalsaWorks was back in Wetherby, I felt it was time for closure. That I had to be there for the re-opening, to put to bed the awful sadness of having been there when the sight and sound of the doors drawing shut could have been for the last time.

In the early afternoon, Tony picked me up from York station and delivered me to Piperland where, over cups of tea, our chins wagged and we put our kitchen skills to use on the night's buffet. Dusk was ushering in the night when I was chaperoned speedily south along winding country roads. The Engine Shed's front doors were shut exactly as I remembered them, but this time, signs of life on the other side cracked them open and I stepped through to a flood memories painted from her best of times.

The forms of Lorraine and Les of Mancuban were in the far corner, pacing out the content of the night's coming lesson. Alfie, I surprised with a generous hug and a bottle of champagne to commemorate what I hoped would be the closure of an uncertain year - I didn't make an effort to conceal my disappointment that Christine could not be there.

As salsa played, the main salon began to fill. A quarter of an hour later than billed, the pre-club lessons fired up: Lorraine and Les leading the main group downstairs, with Alfie upstairs introducing newcomers to possibly the most profound change in to their lifestyles. The main session's pacing was deliberate (I would have taught a classroom session at a quicker pace, but a club session in the same manner) with frequent partner changes, breaking the ice for everyone to meet each other.

Tony and I skulked about in the shadows rigging the video equipment, receiving the performers to their dressing area, and taking photos.

SalsaWorks bill this as a salsa night and are true to their word - only two bachatas, two bachata-tangos, and one kizomba dotted the un-apologetically salsa playlist - with Lorraine, Les, Alfredo and Tony alternating thirty-minute sets. Space on the dance-floor was tight but not un-navigably so; more than two hundred dancers had travelled from as far as Hull, Newcastle, Preston, and Sheffield to participate in the re-awakening.

The dance show provided a contrasting punctuation mark. Tony's never been one to shy away from controversy and has sometimes made room in the programming schedule for something a little different. True to Engine Shed form, this re-opening night was no exception, and he billed it as:

ANZHEXEN Dark Fusion Dance Troupe (Leeds)
This group of very scarey ladies is led by Beverley Spracklen. They deliver an extraordinary fusion of North African tribal styles in a deeply Gothic mood. Beverley said, ‘Our performance is designed to be unsettling!’ I said, 'Unsettle them as much as you like, Beverley!'

I found it conceptually interesting, but for me, the African tribal message struggled to emerge from the performers' strongly Gothic demeanour. Choreographically, a stronger movement style and increased floor coverage would have provided the dynamism to complement the high-contrast look.

Until it happened for real, the success of Engine Shed's re-opening was a great unknown. A number of events had sprung up in the calendar same slot - a year is a long time in salsa promotion. But whereas a number of events I've been to recently are traded as pure commodities - a 'promoter' hires a room, a DJ, and announces it on Facebook - SalsaWorks is old school. They talk to you, make you feel welcome, dance with you, listen to your thoughts, provide means of forging that most primal of social bonds through the breaking of bread together.

For the revelling faithful, it was as if the Engine Shed had never been away. "It feels as though it's just missed a week" was a familiar sentiment, so easily did the vibe come back. I felt it too, dancing the rounds, reconnecting with old faces, and beguiling the new. It's still one of the few places where I have no reservations about approaching someone for a dance.

The doors shut once again. But this time there was, is, a prospect of a second, third and fourth time.

Closure, as I said, is about beginnings.

Loo Yeo

30th December 2011 El Rincón Latino Pre-NYE Party @Anchor Inn, Clowne, Derbyshire

Karen wanted another salsa fix. In Barcelona, her regular haunt 'El Manisero' is not five minutes' walk out of her front door; there, she dances as often as the DJs play. We'd already cut a rug in Wetherby two nights before, but her feet had started to itch in a way that only a good dose of hot sauce would cure.

In the quiet time, when events draw a breath between Christmas and New Year, salsa nights are rare as truffles. I said "well, there's Clowne..."
"Dónde?" she asked quizzically.

I'd recently become acquainted with Iván and Emma of Salsa Beat who'd both struck me as having an inclusive dance philosophy; and when I said that I thought Stephen Gordo Mágico played a good set, that sealed it for Karen... she couldn't get to the car fast enough.

Salsa is a monolithic transnational phenomenon, bestriding the megalopoleis of New York, Japan, and London; and yet it thrives in modest fertile places like Clowne, Debyshire (population circa 7500). Walking into the village centre's Anchor Inn, the barman motions us to the function room around the side of the main salon where we're greeted by salsa music blaring away.

El Rincón Latino pulses in a slightly-narrow rectangular room boasting a good wooden floor, a raised stage at one end, counterbalanced by a modest stretch of bar at the other. By the time we got there at nine-thirty the place was packed, many with faces I recognised from as far afield as Nottingham. Above the energetic hubbub, Stephen kept the dancefloor filled by limiting his palette of colours to Nuyorican dura, crossover and Colombian salsa; merengue; bachata; and kizomba - Fania classics and sones/son montunos didn't to see light of day. A track by Bamboleo (a bold choice I though, as it requires a dancer with strongly internalised rumba clave to navigate through it) made it onto the decks, but remained the sole timba number of the night - it wasn't received with the same certainty as the Colombian fare. La Excelencia's 'Salsa con Conciencia' got an airing, although I suspect it's message flowed over the majority of the dancers; I might have gone for something from their 'Mi Tumbao Social' album instead.

Observing audience-dancer responses to Stephen's music selection, I was able to assess the local salsa scene's development to be in the latter phase of the youthful growing stage. Karen paid El Rincón Latino's party her ultimate compliment by saying that it felt like being at El Manisero. She and I left as the night wound down through a bachata set into kizomba. We'd had our satisfying fill of salsa by then, including some Cali stepping (Karen'd lived in Colombia for a bit).

There are just a couple of tweaks I'd recommend that would make a huge difference: a pair of air blowers positioned at the bar-side exit facing outward, to extract heated air from the room; and slight attenuation of the low and low-mid frequencies to manage the bass rumble of the room.

We live in an age where bigger is marketed as implicitly better e.g. "The biggest <insert adjectives and superlatives here> salsa congress". On the contrary, I've discovered people from smaller cities and towns to be the more accommodating by far.

For the atmosphere and its warm welcome, El Rincón Latino's party en el pueblo de Clowne [in the village of Clowne] is hard to beat.

Smaller is most decidedly better.

Loo Yeo

24th November 2011 Son Para Todos @Revolución de Cuba, Sheffield

Son Para Todos is Sheffield's own working salsa band. Originally conceived as a duo: Rodrigo Paredes (vocals, guitar) and Armando Murillo (percussion, coro), its line-up has stabilised over the years to include an additional keyboard, second guitar and trumpet. They work hard to earn a living off their playing, that's what I mean about a 'working' band, lugging their instruments and their PA around in car boots to deliver music in restaurants, bars, and the odd special event.

Respect. This is the grind of what Nuyoricans would call the cuchifrito circuit. I understand the decisions they have to, and are willing to, make in order to bring a touch of Latin American zing to Sheffield's night life.

For years, they've held a once weekly residency at Cubana where they played Cubanesque standards such as 'El Cuarto de Tula' and 'Montón de Estrellas'. Then Inventive Leisure decided to diversify to include rum-based drinks and launched its Revolución de Cuba chain, opening a branch in Sheffield's city centre a salsa song's walk from Cubana - the fit-out has been superb, and the balance of drinks on offer very well-judged.

And so it transpires that Son Para Todos now have three residency slots, playing twice weekly in Revolución de Cuba on Thursday and Friday nights as well.

A wee slice of fantasy Cuba on Mappin Street

I turned up to listen and to get a vibe of the place on Thursday evening. The bar was humming with activity from the beginning of their first set at about 8pm. The hubbub continued its crescendo even when the final strains of their third set faded at 10:30 and Stephen 'DJ Gordo Mágico' Jackson worked the decks.

Chatting with Armando over a mojito, I said that I'd noticed that there were new numbers in their repertoire, mainly at chachachá /son montuno tempo from the Latin Crossover pocket (think Santana), salsafied pop, and some reggae. He gave a wry smile, gestured to the crowd, and said that they'd had to expand and diversify their selection, what with having to play longer and on two consecutive evenings. I told Armando that I thought Son Para Todos had made the right decision - I know plenty of salsa bandleaders who would sneer at playing this mix, but these are ones who have the luxury of not having to perform for a living.

Actually I think that Son Para Todos are being true to their name - bringing the experience of son and its children to everyone - and playing the key role of cultural mediator. And they do so deftly and with aplomb. Cultural mediators are necessary. They are the conduits by which the salsa scene is (Re)energised and (Re)vitalised. A case in point being that when I popped in on Nicolai's lesson two days later: I stepped through Cubana's aged wooden doors to be greeted by two young English lads who introduced themselves to me as Chris and George. They were both there for their first salsa lesson after having been completely taken by the atmosphere at Revolución de Cuba, and I was recognised from there.

I would also confess that my first four Latin CDs were Gloria Estefan's 'Mi Tierra', Alfredo Gutiérrez's 'El Palito', Cheito Quiñones' eponymous album, and La Conexión's 'Conexión Latina'; of which Gloria's and Cheito's were my early favourites. As an ethnomusicologist of transnational genres, I understand the importance of crossover artists as cultural mediators, and am happy to say that Son Para Todos are as deft as they come.

Loo Yen Yeo

12th Night Extravaganza 2010

The North's first regional shin-dig of 2010 re-adopted the shape of an all-dayer with a pre-event party; a format which had served it well two years ago when the Extravaganza was located at St.John's. This time, it was spread across two sites: the salsa hotbed that Wetherby's Engine Shed has become; and the facilities at the University of York.

I'd hatched plans to inflict myself on the Pipers this whole weekend, arriving with a salve of aged rum and delectable chocolates. Stepping over the threshold, I piled into the bustling activity of pulling the paperwork, equipment, and comestibles together for 'Shedding'; the new popular verb that the region's salseros of the region have come up with. Uncertainty lingered in the air held aloft by the harshest winter in three decades - the same stretch of weather which had affected 4de12's gig in Yarm, had put paid to a vast number of salsa-related events in what would normally be peak lesson season.

As it turns out, consternation need not have creased their brows.

A great number of salsa faithful braved icy conditions to dance at Wetherby, filling the Shed to comfortable capacity. The pre-event party began with chachachá lessons for a change: beginners on the upper floor led by George 'Dr. Salsa' and Vicky; 'improvers' on the main floor with Lee and Nuriye. I was very interested to experience how U.K. mainstream salsa teachers approached the teaching of this dance 'club-style', and so spread my time observing the two classes.

Both of them were conventionally routine-based. The primary emphasis of the beginners class was on the rhythm and then in the context of a short sequence; the timing stresses were ballroom On2 instead of Cuban contratiempo. The content of the intermediates class drew from International Latin (I saw a fan and a natural top) with little tweaks brought in from Cross-body salsa. As the foremost objective of any club teaching is engendering the confidence to use the material within a limited time, it was a mark of success to find chachachá on the floor throughout the evening.

The Engine Shed was everything I remembered it to be when 4 de Diciembre last brought it live salsa: everyone is welcoming and accommodating, the atmosphere suffused with a warm vivid energy. The night sped away, powered of a myriad of fine and sometimes barely-decorous dances. By the time the Pipers and I returned to Base Camp to grab some shut-eye, the clock had ticked perilously close to 05:00.

Four hours later, Tony and I were unloading kit in front of York University's Roger Kirk Centre. This year, having found my feet around the event, I eschewed attending the sessions in favour of being organisationally more useful. What time there was in between, I spent caffeinating and socialising in part as barometer to the success of the event.

Then late in the afternoon, I spotted Alex Wilson and made his acquaintance.

Apart from his band being the main attraction that evening, Alex was at 12th Night with Lee Knights to run an evening session promoting their newly-released endeavour "Find the Rhythm". The pedagogy of Latin rhythm is a matter very close to my heart and we experienced no uncommon ground; I found Alex to be a man hugely talented, yet unassuming and disarmingly engaging.

He invited me to the soundcheck, an opportunity I could not have passed up.

It was highly educative. Here was a performer who knew exactly what he wanted, and the sound crew were all the more appreciative for it: from how he laid out the stage, listened to the individual instruments, the verbal expressions used in describing the sounds he was after, the meticulous attention to detail. With the whole band together, he did as I do; use the soundcheck to hone specific sections of the playlist.

Alex Wilson engaging with Front of House during soundcheck
(Public Address provided by JSS Audio)

I must mention Elpidio Caicedo, the bassist from Buenaventura after whom the number Sabrosón is written. He's an irrepressible ray of Colombian sunshine (seen above in the woolly hat) blessed with a great set of pipes: playing Latin bass and taking lead vocals simultaneously commands respect. Talking drums and music with the rhythm section over dinner made me late for Alex and Lee's class. After leading the band back to their dressing room, I slipped into the main hall to find the class of fifty split into three groups doing vocalisations for tumbao moderno (congas), martillo (bongó), and cáscara (timbales) - Alex dubbed them the 'Human Salsa Orchestra', and it was an attendance that only someone of his musical standing could have inspired.

The objective was to open the band's second set with staggered entries of the three sections and the session closed with a practice of these entries. This was the second time that this workshop had been run by Lee and Alex, and I can't help but think that Alex missed a trick here. Percussion, though crucial, can be pretty dry on its own - it would have been a little bit of magic for the attendees if Alex had jumped on to stage and accompanied the Human Salsa Orchestra on the piano for a few bars, just to tie the class up with a pretty contextual bow.

The last time I saw Alex Wilson and his band was at the Derby Assembly Rooms in March 2007 when his cover of Chaka Khan's "Ain't Nobody" had stormed the salsa floors. This time they were even better: then, the orchestra leaned definitively towards Soul; at the Extravaganza, Soul was artistically counter-balanced with a more profound expression of Latin rhythm. But I'd already expected this after hearing a dynamite güajira influenced snippet at soundcheck.

Among an evening littered with highlights, one of the brightest has to be sharing a dance with Lee to Alex's "Inglaterra" with Elpi hooting at us over the montuno.

It was daybreak by the time the Pipers and I had finished undoing the ravages of the Extravaganza. Sunday afternoon lunch was a leisurely affair, and Tony tells me that the day after 12th Night is always his most relaxed in the year. It was dark by the time I stepped off the train at Sheffield station.

Casting back a year ago, I remembered thinking that Tony was risking an awful lot by considering booking Alex; Palenke were unavailable, and he didn't want to bring 12th Night down the value chain by not booking a band. The Extravaganza has always been a labour of love for the Pipers, and I'm thankful in the end that it still is.

Loo Yen

4th December 2009 Mambo con Rumbo @Slug and Lettuce, York

Once a month, on its opening Friday, the great and the good of York's salsa community congregate in the farthest corner of Swinegate to indulge in an unseemly display of dance solidarity. Gyrating together in a travesty of good-two-shoes libertarian behaviour at the Slug and Lettuce watering hole (not to be confused with the identically named one next to the river, to which the unknowing are cunningly misdirected), 'On1ers' from Mary and Tony's SalsaYork and 'breaking On2ers' from Lossie and Gareth's Encuentro Latino do nothing at all to reinforce the convention of market segmentation gripping the commercial salsa world.

This author turned up to cast disapproval at such brazen proceedings...

Actually, I turned up because I'd been hearing from Tony about how this night was going great guns and to support the North's latest live music debutantes - Mambo con Rumbo (yes, it's rumbo, not rumba), featuring people whom I'd become increasingly acquainted with via Twelfth night and the Engine Shed, reinforced by a strengthening social network both corporeal and electronic. It was also the 4th of December, and such alignment of the planets could only be ignored at one's peril.

"It's all very much last-minute as usual" I thought, as I clutched my overnight bag on the train to York post-work. Dinner was an intimate affair with Mary, Tony and myself at a busy and cosy brasserie in the middle of the historic city a stone's throw from the Minster; an ideal way to update each other on our lifestyles' circumstances. Come nine o'clock, we forsook our tables for the Slug and Lettuce to unload the gear and set up. Steve Carter (timbalero, vocalist), Gareth Roberts (conguero), Phil Moores (bass, songwriter), and Adam Parnell (flautist, saxophonist, music director) were already on-site preparing for soundcheck; and after the jovialities, I removed myself from underfoot to evaluate the venue.

The Slug and Lettuce is a chain of modern pub-eateries whose physical premises are pleasantly less 'busy' in decor and arrangement than their web-image suggests. Their menu is somewhere in-between as regards coherence, but their bar offerings are accurately targeted. Staff morale was solid, and the supervising management was good-natured and accommodating - it was clear that both parties, the promoters (Gareth, Lossie, Mary and Tony) and venue management, had put effort into cultivating a good business relationship. It bodes well for an enduring salsa night.

With the fading of the last meal sitting, a cord barrier was put in place to partition off the dance area. The polished wooden flooring throughout is a nice surface to move on, although the split-level nature of it, in effect, divided the available space into two long-but-slim stretches, aside from the spot occupied by the band. Nevertheless, the Slug could (and did) cheerily accommodate a hundred and sixty grooving souls with a band in place.

The main event was Mambo con Rumbo playing to a friendly crowd; there was plenty of home-town support for its band members, many of whom have been long-term protagonists on the salsa scene. Its single set of about eight numbers, half of which were instrumental, were well chosen to suit dancers. There is an obvious difference (in the U.K.) between the music of bands that comprise dancers and those that do not, and Mambo con Rumbo decidedly belong in the former. The nine person line-up comprised: congas, timbales/vocals, hand percussion/vocals, piano, bass, alto saxophone/flute/vocals, tenor saxophone, trumpet and trombone; and their interpretation style struck me as salsa dura with a hint of romántica arrangement and dose of jazz. It was NYC, despite cover version nods to Venezuela with Llorarás and Colombia with El Preso.

Adam's hand as a music teacher with arrangement experience was evident with the assuredness of the horns; Gareth and Steve's backgrounds as enduring aficionados of percussion presented its flavours strongly; and the instrumental number penned by Phil comfortably withstood scrutiny by the dance floor. Mambo con Rumbo as an ensemble displayed all the ingredients for the realisation of potential: creativity, crucial for developing a unique identity; musicality; organisation and arrangement; direction, in the band's navigation of salsa genres; and most overlooked of all, grounding i.e. persistent contact with the needs of the target audience.

I was the most impressed with Gareth's tumbaos. His phrasing is as authentically Latin as I've ever heard - a benchmark for any aspiring salsa musician; there is a guile and subtlety in his touch which belies a deep-seated, seemingly innate, understanding of the essence of salsa.

Before the gyrating hordes:
Mambo con Rumbo at soundcheck.

As a debut it was more than just commendable, and I shall be keen to follow their progress with interest.

The powerful things about bands are, that a good one can establish an atmosphere like no other artefact. The warm glow of salsa was carried through the rest of the night with Gareth, George a.k.a. 'Doctor Salsa' and Tony as torchbearers on the decks. It was particularly touching to have Tony announce the significance of El Cuatro de Diciembre and dedicate one of our favourite tracks: 'La Candela' by Yerba Buena, that most Cuban of New York bands, to the occasion.

No-one minded that, by then, the clock had struck well into the fifth.

Yeo Loo Yen

24th April 2009 Conjunto Salsonito @Salsaworks, Roger Kirk Centre, York (Part 2)

Conjunto Salsonito dishing out New York-style Salsa Dura

The Galleria of the Roger Kirk Centre comfortably hosted five hundred and fifty salseros at Twelfth Night, whilst the Engine Shed would pack out at slightly over two hundred with the overspill moving to the floor upstairs. Seasoned promoters would spot straight away the potential danger of a significant leap in venue size and the impact that might have not just on cost, but also in atmosphere.

With a lot at stake and a number of competing events on that night and that weekend, Tony, Mary, Alfredo and Christine pulled all the stops out mobilising their considerable salsa-base, inviting two performance shows, putting on the band, and designing a rather interesting warm-up lesson (more on that later). The attention to detail was relentless. That's what the "none of that jazzy bollocks" quip was about, jazz musicians are occasionally given to an introspective mode of playing with robs a salsa performance of its typical exuberance; it was a reminder to remain extroverted and engaged with the dancers.

Well, it worked.

Conjunto Salsonito delivered recognisably New York-style salsa dura tracks well, and the progression through the setlist did point to some measure of Lubi's hand in the selection; I've known him for long enough to make out his style of music. I can see why the band could be marketed as in the mould of La Perfecta, mainly with the deployment of two trombones. But though they played well, they weren't committed enough to be put in the same league. Let's face it, few groups ever will be.

As an ethnomusicologist and salsa historian, it's easy for me to see why.

In Mary Kent's interview with Eddie in her definitive 'Salsa Talks', Mr.Palmieri talked of how La Perfecta was made special because each and every member was unified in an "unbearable" single purpose. That phrase is permanently seared in my mind as a benchmark for any ensemble performance, be it my own, any other band, or dance troupe.

There is only one word - Intensity.

I think that's the nub of it, if the rumours be true. The performers didn't come across as believing completely in the music they were playing - it's a problem if numbers are selected without getting enough 'buy in' from the people interpreting them. Don't get me wrong, it was a competent rendition that could have been blessed with a little more flair; perhaps a few shamelessly extroverted face-melting solos a la Jack Black's 'School of Rock'.

'Restrained' would be the fairest word that I could use based on what I experienced. One number, ironically their cover of Eddie Palmieri's 'Muñeca', showed off Conjunto Salsonito's full potential - they laid it out absolutely brilliantly. It was the clearest instance of the musicians united in purpose. If I were music director for the band, I'd strengthen the setlists by trialling thirty to forty shortlisted songs, selecting for the ones that spoke to every musician in the same way that 'Muñeca' did. It's harder work, but it's an approach that's paid dividends for 4de12.

All that said, it wouldn't be unrealistic of me to expect great things of them when I see them next; and I wish Jonny every success. Few guys deserve it more.

The other formally scheduled diversions of evening were two amateur dance troupe performances: one from York-based Encuentro Latino, the other from Jimmy SA's school in Newcastle. Both troupes were large, about ten couples each. Whilst not having the precision and polish of a professional one, they both had something that pro groups sometimes lack: enthusiasm and... you guessed it, Intensity.

Striking Pose: Newcastle Amateur Performance Troupe
choreographed by Jimmy SA

I always, always, watch the faces of first-time performers - it reminds me of much and keeps me honest.

With all of the performances over, I set about spreading myself out a bit: dancing contratiempo with an ETOn2 salsa newbie here, a chachachá there, some bachata thrown in.

Which reminds me... Alfredo and Christine's lesson earlier on. It was a combination of bachata and tango, that is, 'bachatango' danced to Gotan Project-style music - a movement currently being promoted by well-travelled bachata instructor Tony Lara. I thought it was fun. And yes, I know the purists of both would have been giving the above two lines the evil stare, but the two genres have at least two things in common: the Caribbean rhythmic motif of the cinquillo; and their histories as suppressed musics and dances of the underprivileged classes. I just don't know how the defining hip movements of the Dominican dance can be squared with the stringent lack of one in the Argentine tango. And surely in terms of spirit, isn't the kizomba a more mature and better resolved system? Bachatango can't even boast the advantage of ambidextrous movement changes that tango has over the kizomba.

Sounds like an attempt at product diversification to me.

Meanwhile back on the dance floor, I espied an East European stunner and resolved to find out if she could dance as well as she looked. She would have been hard to miss: red dress, carefully coiffured highlighted hair, pearly white teeth, plenty of foundation, matching lipstick and accessories. I gave her every opportunity to express herself and valiantly got as far as a little honest smile behind her broad display one. Part of me felt extremely tempted to put her through her paces to see if I could get her blusher could run from her perspiration, but thankfully I managed to suppress that Chingis Khan portion of my psyche and decorously returned her to her table unmussed at the end of the song.

The contrast with the next dance, a salsatón with an uninhibited power-pack of a partner could not have been more stark. Urban movements, rhythmic tensions, sexuality... drew an impromptu round of applause from those seated nearby; likely for the sheer bravado.

By the time I hit the sack at the Piper's, the birds were tweeting. Again. It's getting to be a bit of a disturbing habit.

Salsaworks with Conjunto Salsonito was an evening plum-full of enjoyment. And from the looks of every salsa dancer there, there was plenty of the stuff going around.

Salsonito are a solid band, and I very much enjoyed dancing to them. But their management, whomever they might be, should exercise more care when marketing them in the same breath as the words La Perfecta.

Loo Yeo

25th January 2009 Barrio Latino @Platillos, Leopold Square, Sheffield

(aka. A Winston-Flavoured Salsa Lesson)

It was a bit of a mad dash yesterday. I raced back from this nation's capital barely in time to make it for the last of three taster salsa lessons which had been running weekly in Sheffield's newest salsa night 'Barrio Latino' in Platillos. The previous two I had contrived to miss through a conspiracy of circumstance, and I would not to be foiled again (even if it meant getting out and manually locomoting East Mainline's ageing locomotive).

I walked briskly into the newly revamped and swanky Leopold Square, smack-bang in Sheffield's city centre, and a medium-sized stone's throw away from the veteran Bar Cubana - past the eateries and purveyors of libations which were standing forlornly empty. It was Sunday night and the Square, packed to the gunnels on Fridays and Saturdays, felt as if tired from its exertions.

Platillos is a well-appointed establishment: a bar downstairs and a tapas restaurant upstairs. Entering the lower floor, I encountered a rectangular room with stairs upwards on one side, a bar on the opposite side, DJ booth at the far end, and seating along most of the periphery. The unsprung wooden floor which would have been a tight squeeze for thirty-plus dancing couples, was interjected with two structural columns. The decor is warm and plush; a perfect small venue for a salsa night.

Rob's grin was there to greet me and coax my details onto his organiser's mailing list. We made our first-time acquaintances (he'd heard of me via Facebook apparently) with amiable chatter as I fished out my taster dues - the lesson had been billed as "New York-style" salsa; a mode I'd not revisited in the better part of a decade. What-is-more, the charismatic Winston Mitchell, friend and pillar of the salsa community was doing the teaching. I'd never had a Winston-flavoured salsa lesson before, so I was very much looking forward to this.

Spying him in the far corner, I snuck up to say "hello" and to extort him into accepting a beer using the good ole, "we gotta keep the bar happy to keep the venue ticking over" thrust. He countered with the reliably effective, "you're good, you shouldn't be doing this class"; which I deflected with the philosophical "one's basics can't be too strong" manoeuvre. The riposte he was gathering was beginning to look mighty when, as luck would have it, the exchange was blunted by the appearance of a Winston-fan. I hid behind the decoy and made good my escape.

Winston's lesson was co-taught by Sophie, and structurally contained a bit of everything as all tasters should: basic steps, a short combination with turns evenly distributed across both gender roles, a simple shine, technical pointers, and a bit of styling. It was ably presented with the setting of achieveable goals, and the class was split on the odd occasion as Sophie went through the women's part whilst Winston the men's. The learning atmosphere reminded me very much of Ces and Kerry's (of LatinXces) manner where a patient, easy approach is the hallmark.

If I had been tasked with designing a single-hour taster of NY salsa, it would have borne a similar form.

I had heard from some salseros that they thought Winston's pacing was a little slow. I now I understand why. The perception is based on a comparison with some other instructors who cram their hour with one combination, packed wall-to-wall with turn elements. Like proverbial sardines in a can. Winston on the other hand, resisted the temptation and opted for a short, balanced combination; and used the available time to explain fundamental technical details AND allow sufficient practice of the component parts. It was clear he was after quality.

Next week he and Sophie begin a six-week course. I'm sure that they've already begun addressing their vocal projection (the room is not acoustically kind to an instructor's voice), and will continue to accumulate their range of teaching metaphors. And as experience lends them more polish, I have no doubt that calls for them will increase in volume. NY salsa has stylistically changed since I last was a beginner, and would myself have signed up for its duration had it not been for commitments to Conjunto Laloma. I cannot give a more honest recommendation.

The normally interminable wait between the end of a lesson and the full pace of social salsa didn't happen. Whilst I blinked, Platillos filled up; and suddenly there was pedal-to-the-metal dancing. Ana, Rob's partner-in-crime, was on the decks playing modern dancefloor favourites. As a DJ she set up a strong party atmosphere like in Manchester's long-running Copacabana, mixing it up salsa with merengue, bachata, reggaeton and kizomba. Everyone: the Kenyans, Brits, Angolans, Spanish, Asians, Latins, ate it up - I waited for zouk to come on as the kitchen sink.

...denied...

It was all hot, sweaty fun. But sadly I can't feature a full review, as I had to make an early exit.

'Barrio Latino' is still very much in its birthing phase: enjoying the euphoria of being young, new, and the rapidly escalating success that that conveys. It has all the right ingredients for success: welcoming hosts, a dynamic energy, strong instructors, a crowd-aware DJ, a tremendous amount of goodwill and a clientèle who appreciate that the bar needs to be fed well for the night to prosper.

Whether it can sustain itself to become an established favourite? It's too early to tell. In Winston and Sophie are instructors more than capable of introducing newcomers to salsa and growing the base. The hardest part will be in keeping the product vital; by avoiding the attentions of Complacency in the format - especially in music policy. To the protagonists of 'Barrio Latino' I say,

"It's there for the taking."

Loo

12th Night Extravaganza 2009. Saturday & Sunday (Part 3)

My eyes drifted open to the world knowing that Saturday was going to be a day of little respite.

My feet, happily worn from last night's revelry, were probably going to be disconsolate by lunch and downright rebellious by dinner. And yet there had to be enough in the tank for a truly heroic run at the evening party, plus a little left in reserve to be amongst the last to leave with Tony and Mary. An itch of anticipation seeped in with my duvet's warmth tinged, dare I say it, with a hint of dread. Age is a cruel mistress.

But I've also found that she can be distracted with a nice cup of tea and a hot shower. With Age rubbernecking, I packed up and stepped out into the morning frost, returning my keycard to the porters at the lodge, joshing with them about the quality of institution food, and wending my way to an uncertain cooked breakfast. I discovered it to be strangely reassuring that bacon, sausage, beans and egg are universally constant across all university canteens be it Bath, Reading, Sheffield, Stirling and in this case, York. Nostalgia aside, breakfast times at congresses are valuable opportunities to meet fellow delegates; where I try to get in early and take it at as leisurely a pace as possible. Alejandro, Bill and Jimmy of Palenke were just finishing up and braving the cold to sight-see York. I settled down with a group of, as it turns out, very itinerant salseros based on the other side of the Pennines who were busily mapping out their day through the workshop programme.

Bridge over duck-rink: all roads lead to salsa
(as they all should do)

Returning to the Roger Kirk Centre, the nerve plexus of 12th Night, Mary took up my offer of help by tasking me with remedial teaching at the more fundamental workshops. The first workshop I chose was, with his permission, Bill Newby's tango argentino class where the gender imbalance seemed greatest. It was gently and patiently delivered in Bill's typically warm manner. And despite the difference between his salon and my orgullo style (which I masked), and his immaculate polish versus my red-raw rustiness, my partners clearly appreciated learning with an experienced hand.

But instead of indulging in a blow-by-blow account of each class, this year's 12th Night could be better summed up in one general observation and a number of personal highlights.

A General Observation

Social dance instruction in the UK remains largely driven by force of personality; and is a reflection of the need of its primary consumers, the middle classes with the expendable income, to be entertained. From a pedagogic perspective, few instructors demonstrate that they have identified and understood what they consider to be the pinnacles of their art, let alone mapped a clear development route to those summits for their students. The narrow educative knowledge-base results in two things that are readily apparent in congresses here and abroad:

1. confusion as to the different approaches that distinguish a class from a tutorial and a workshop; and
2. an impaired ability for instructors to act in concert through the meshing of their progressions - the learning contexts they establish are inflexibly individualised (to their personalities) instead of sharing a lingua franca of physical skills training.
   

[I note that there has been some movement by the United Kingdom Alliance (UKA) to certify salsa dance instructors. But having studied their syllabus (upon which their instructor examinations are based) at length, I see much description of vocabulary but little that is modern in the teaching of physical skills.]

Choice is the primary benefit at a congress, not threaded learning; and there was a smörgåsbord of it in York. As a generous estimate, thirty percent of sessions in 12th Night were roughly in workshop format; the remainder were vocabulary-based club classes. I see the latter as either: the instructor sticking to what (s)he knows how to do; or, just as likely, giving the attendees what they expect.

Having taught in the same shoes, I find that most attendees themselves are unable to distinguish between 'workshop' and 'class', treating both as the latter; and that I have to bill a workshop as a 'masterclass' in order to create the correct mindset.

Some Personal Highlights

• Lunchtime with Adriana where amongst the things we talked about was: how she still remembers our first dance together ten-plus years ago in Sheffield, and having her compliment my bachata as "dangerous";
• Steve Carter & Encuentro Latino's take on musical interpretation, and their really handy mnemonic for cáscara i.e. "I don't like carrots, I like potatoes";
  
• Lisandro's happy memories of Palenke's stint in Jakarta (near my neck of the woods), and his penchant for the food;
  
• A talk post-dinner with timbalero Jimmy Le Messurier and trombonist Paul Taylor about their recordings and the music industry;
• Bill and Jaime's emotionally charged tango argentino demonstration;
  
• Dancing boogaloo Colombian-style with Adriana;
• Salsa, chachachá, bachata, and decidedly post-watershed merengue & reggaeton with some normally-very-nice people ("clean" is for whimps!);
• Getting to know Tony and Mary better and meeting their house-guests Tony and Sarah. Two lasting memories: Mary and Sarah breathless from laughter from my rosé champagne-fuelled antics, and the two Tonys behaving badly in the kitchen until dangerously close to the daylight hours;
• The decadence of dancing on a lazy Sunday afternoon; and
  
• Two fabulous tango-tinged bachatas with Maria.

The Ultimate Decadence awaits the truly hard-of-core:
dancing on a lazy Sunday afternoon

It was over a lazy mid-morning breakfast, as we were both desperately caffeinating, when fellow (ex)Steel City dweller Caroline offered me a lift. I jumped at the chance to indulge in her company and to eschew the anonymous silence of the train. We left 12th Night in the mid-afternoon dusk, on the squally journey South.

A leisurely dinner together at one favourite Bengali restaurant was my way of repaying the compliment. It was the best manner in which to round off a perfect weekend of reconnection.

Yeo Loo Yen

12th Night Extravaganza 2009. Friday Night (Part 2)

After eight years of unabated success, York's 12th Night Extravaganza finds itself at the grounds of the city's University having definitively outgrown the facilities at St.John's. And whilst acknowledging that the running of the North of England's only salsa congress is not the work of one person in isolation, its rise is surely a testament to Tony Piper's philosophy and will.

I find that any social event be it a lesson, club night, or congress weekender, reflects the culture and values of its main organisational driver. I believe 12th Night to be no exception, and whilst Tony's forthright manner may not be everyone's cup of tea, his Salsa Extravaganza is a more telling measure of the man. It has a charm of understated informality; an inclusiveness that draws together the leading lights of the region, and yet generously showcases the talents of those less well-known. Its programme of workshops have been planned to give a relaxed and easy pace throughout the day; and the parties at night, unfettered from the sideline's critical eye, are a true celebration of dance.

Dance as the end, and not the means to an end, is the Extravaganza's core.

And so I find myself in the middle of my basic but clean single room in Wentworth Hall, all dressed up and ready to dance, clutching a bottle of delectable rosé champagne for Mary and Tony in thanks for being their guest. With steam still issuing from the shower of the en-suite, I pull the door to and head out on the three minute walk to where the festivities are - The Roger Kirk Centre. It's Friday night and the man-made lake, around which York University campus is huddled, is an ice-rink for ducks as England bears the coldest winter she's experienced in fifty years.

Stepping into Reception, Mary and Tony are already there as hosts with a warm greeting for all. I get the obligatory banter and friendly abuse which I hurl back in equal measure - it'd've been rude not to. After hanging up my coat on the plentiful racks (an important and oft-overlooked detail at other places), I proceed through the now-closed cafeteria and into the generous main hall. One look tells me all I need to know.

A long well-staffed bar on one side; a dance floor bound on one side by a 0.5m high stage and ample seating-around tables on the other three; a total capacity circa 500 people; and open-able windows in the entirely-glazed outer wall means some measure of client control over ventilation. The floor looked like unsealed resin over concrete which was already kicking up power through erosion (many dancers over the weekend were to assume that talc had been laid down); the ladies' balls of foot were going to be throbbing at the end of the night; and dancers who didn't have stopping technique were going to be spinning gingerly.

The sound engineers would have had their hands full (they certainly didn't look like happy bunnies) with the highly sound-reflective surfaces and multi-tiered ceiling. As it turns out my preferred spot, right in front of stage, had the best acoustics - which was just perfect as Palenke were playing. They were one highlight in a studded evening, and a real surprise was whom they'd co-opted as their guest timbalero: none other than Jimmy Le Messurier. Palenke was right on the money, creating an atmosphere of relaxed yet vibrant energy which DJ Lubi skillfully continued for his all-too-short stint.

The time in-between the band's sets featured entertaining dance performances: dancesport chachachá, dancesport rhumba, mambo and funk-freestyles. These physical interjections, far from breaking the momentum of the night, were kept short and proved valuable association and cooling-down time. Certainly those in the audience, with their lighted faces, were cheered and cheered. When the shows closed and the band resumed the stage, I'd stopped doing my impression of being a hot-water bottle on legs. Now at a partner-considerate lukewarm temperature, I snuck up on Mary and pounced on her for a dance.

That's a metaphorical pounce by the way. For those of you who know Mary, you'll agree that catching her unawares is one of the great scientific improbabilities.

I was due only to spend the one night in York; some soul had had the temerity to book my room for Saturday night ...the cad! Mary discovered this over the course of our salsa a la cubana together, and offered me their spare room for Saturday. She's not the type to brook any argument, especially when hospitality is concerned. Truth be told, Tony had offered as well not a few hours previously - and with both their generous invitations, I chose to be honest and place myself in their debt once again.

Friday night proved to be the Essence of 12th Night. And as I retired to bed in the not-so-wee hours of Saturday, I remembered again why I needed to be in York.

(On to Part Three.)

Yeo Loo Yen

20th December 2008 Cuatro de Diciembre with SalsaYarm@Tower Club Ballroom, Middlesborough

Chris and Sue Hield's Christmas Salsa Party was going to be the last of Cuatro de Diciembre's engagements before we went our separate ways for the festive season. We were determined to give it full bore, just so as to cap off what has been a great year for the band. Expectations of us were high especially after Darlington a month ago, and I'm sure it's a phenomenon that we increasingly will have to contend with as word of 4de12's good work continues to spread.

It's a nice problem to have.

There were a few solutions to be found beforehand though, the first of which was logistics. Since the venue was in use in the afternoon, BlastPA had but a small window of opportunity afterwards to get their considerable equipment up the stairs to the top floor, set everything up, and get us soundchecked. The second was with the playlist; Ferret couldn't make the gig and I was singing his numbers, so a touch more preparation was needed on my part (he ain't getting them back now! The little rascal).

Practices in between had been hairily helter-skelter, because of the upheaval of relocating to Attic studios; we'd had to move simply because we'd out-grown my place. But I knew that we were potentially going to do something special after the session last Thursday, when it all came together tighter than... well... a Very Tight thing. Every musician will tell you that practices and performances are a very different kettles of fish, but we've increasingly been able to transfer much our smooth practice form on to stage while maintaining our cutting edge.

It was time to eat that pudding.

Similar to Darlington, the anticipated three hour jaunt North took considerably less than that; my trusty iPod was only part-way through its third iteration of Café Noir by Bana Congo presents Papa Nöel (kinda apt don't you think?) when Jeremy pulled the minibus into the ballroom's grounds. It was already dark, what with it being close to the shortest day.

The Tower Club Ballroom in Middlesborough bears no resemblance to the Tower Ballroom in Blackpool, although I wouldn't blame you for the association if you've ever been a ballroom dancer; the name certainly did conjure up certain chintzy images in me (sorry, couldn't help it). The former is a converted church, now a social dance venue spread across three floors. Right at the very top is the hall: with generous seating on its periphery for 180 or so, a small stage midway along one of its long sides, a bar, and a lovely dancefloor.

If you're a floor anorak like me: it's hardwood; sprung, although you can tell when joists are underfoot (and that the joists are steel); the surface polish is about 8-inches slower than competition speed, just perfect for social dance; and very slightly slower at the centre as you would expect. Two hundred plus dancers could happily strut their stuff on that piece of magic.

Okay, back to the Party.

Soundcheck was over just as Doors Opened. Ideally, we would have had a further 30 mins to squeeze more richness out of Catie's alto flute and Willie's violin; a sharper crack of slaps and a more solid, rounder presence of open tones from Whib's tumbadoras. But that's a perfectionist talking in the real world, because Blast had delivered the goods in record time once again.

I settling down to grab a moment of calm in the lull before lessons were due to begin, when whom should I spy gliding in but Ces and Kerry of LatinXces ('glide' is quite the appropriate verb for this svelte couple who do a mean bachata too). It hadn't occured to me to check the leaflet to see if any friends were guest teachers. What a Christmas Brucie bonus.

The lessons were well managed; they had to be as both Ces and Kerry's intermediate and Chris and Sue's beginner sessions were running concurrently on the same floor. The former was jam-packed, understandable considering how busy SalsaYarm have been in developing the salsa scene, and also who were the guest instructors. Both classes were more than just competently taught in a friendly convivial atmosphere (a safe learning environment in educator-speak). While most of Cuatro de Diciembre went for the challenge of LatinXces, Ana (bassist), Mike (trombonist) and I opted for beginners. We didn't want to risk taxing ourselves before the gig and felt we could be of more value there. Ana's no slouch when it comes to dancing, she can lead and follow, has been a salsa teacher for nearly ten years, and an instructor of instructors for four.

More smiling faces came streaming in: Colin Piper, Tony Piper, Ian Steer, Theo Wolashie; it was starting to feel like a party at a friend's place... I mentally gave myself a smack and the professional side kicked in. We had 160 pairs of socks to blow off this night, and Jeremy's piano notes had just started to colour the air - the opening montuno of Nueva Generación was underway.

I'd canvassed and watched the attendees beforehand to get a sense of the tempo they were comfortable with. We'd been practicing our music at a more moderate speed, and it seemed as if that was suitable as an average with some quicker and slower pieces thrown in for texture. I validated this again during the interval between sets: in my conversations with the various teachers, and guests whilst dancing. I also asked our sound engineer Tom to keep an eye out on the floor, and to boost the conga tones if he ever saw dancers looking uncertain. That smoothened everything out. Tony regards us as a "dance-friendly" band for very good reason.

With the PA firing across the room and the small stage being recessed into an alcove, we had to make special adjustments to compensate. The reflected sound of the main PA was bouncing around the back of stage, muddying our foldback from the monitors. I was relatively unaffected as I only have piano and my vocals from my monitor (the general rule being the fewer the instruments on foldback, the better), but I did have to compensate for reflected sound and make sure the attack of my vocals was earlier that when I would normally have put it.

Testament to the quality of Cuatro de Diciembre, a little bit of magic started to happen as we were entering the mambo section of the first number. We began to swing. "Swing" is that hard-earned quality that sets a great band apart from a good one; it's when the rhythm comes together and begins to live and breathe (quite different from 'swinging' notes in the blues). It didn't take the guys long to adapt to performance conditions at all.

Ana Santiago Menéndez - Onstage, on bass

This winter party will live long in my memory. The music and the friends all came together just right to create one very special night.

Everyone, directly and indirectly, declared 4 de Diciembre as the best band they'd yet seen. Tony said that we just keep getting better and better. He ain't seen what we've got planned for next time! And I'd also finally met salsa teacher and DJ Keith Tolson, someone whom I'd heard many good things about. But most significant of all, our wonderful hosts Chris and Sue referred to the night as being the most successful one they'd ever had at the Tower. Now that's a record I'd like to keep.

160 pairs of smokin' socks... and a partridge in a pear tree.

Loo Yeo

22nd November 2008 La Tierra Flamenco@Steel City Salsa, Millenium Hall, Ecclesall Road, Sheffield

It transpires that since I've been away in Asia, things have changed a teensy bit at Bill Newby's socials. The music policy, once dominated by Africando with a reggae slot at midnight, has had a makeover more dramatic than in Changing Rooms. Revitalised by an intent to diversify and update the playlist, the night now has a fresher hue to its once-fading colours.

Granted the strategy is more risky; at one point there was a tango vals playing to an empty floor, but given the choice between staid predictable music or something more adventurous, I would always go for latter and forgive the occassional bombs. I personally hope that the social continues along this vein, and that people appreciate that there will be bumps along the way as the music policy evolves.

But what hasn't changed is Bill's desire to introduce Sheffield-folk to other dance genres.

I serious applaud him for doing so, and tonight's social was to be presaged by a flamenco class. At first I wasn't even certain if the social was on, since I hadn't gotten any announcements directly or otherwise; at the eleventh hour, it was thanks to social networking (i.e. Facebook) that the confirmation came along. There was a some umm-ing and aahh-ing as to whether I wanted to scramble for the class after watching 'Strictly Come Dancing' (a guilty pleasure). A "Flamenco Show" billed by Bill last year turned out to be a rather lacklustre Sevillanas demonstration, and I didn't feel like I wanted to risk being short-changed again.

I talked myself into growing a spine... and happily the gamble paid off.

'La Tierra Flamenco' comprise Flamenco dance teacher Naomi Hatch and guitarist Paul Evans. I knew good things were in the offing when I stepped into the hall and espied a dedicated PA setup, two mics, two seats and a well worn flamenco guitar. What can I say... Naomi knew her pedagogy, had a strong yet adaptable lesson plan, good class control, lively and engaging delivery; Paul's support of her was ideotypically strong, smooth, yet unobtrusive. My first experience of them in the lesson context, told me that they make a formidable team.

Flamenco is a lifetime's work, and no single lesson could feasibly turn a novice into an expert. However the smiling faces, the lively chatter, the periods of intense concentration, and the movements of us students at the end of the rumba (flamenco) routine spoke volumes about how deftly the lesson was delivered.

Over the course of tonight, Naomi and Paul gave two shows with a variety of interpretations. Her dancing and his playing have less of the harsh attack of the adrenaline-fuelled white-knuckle ride that I've commonly experienced with Flamenco. Instead there is a slightly rounded edge to their performance, a more subtle approach that I find just as engaging.

With deference to Bill, 'La Tierra Flamenco' gave the best lesson and delivered the best show that I've ever been been to at the social. He booked them blind, and they repaid his faith in full. They can be contacted by email on: latierraflamenco@hotmail.co.uk

And I thank Bill for taking the risk.

Loo Yeo

30th May 2008 Steel City Salsa Social@Millenium Hall, Ecclesall Road, Sheffield

Millenium Hall is a terrific venue located close to the Hunter's Bar end of Sheffield's trendy Ecclesall Road. It's commonly confused with the Polish Club which also features an events hall, to which it adjoins. With a capacity of easily more than a hundred dancers plus peripheral seating, it has a lovely wooden (albeit unsprung) floor, a bar, a low small stage, a high ceiling and decent ventilation. The latter points lend it particular strength as a dance venue, which Bill Newby of Steel City Salsa / Sheffield Tango Argentino has been doing for several years. And once every couple of months or so, he puts on a social which is well supported. His formula is also to introduce something different, like a sevillanas display, and/or guest teachers.

This time, a Kizomba lesson plus demo by Sheffield Angolan resident Antonio and guest DJ Helena of Fuego Latino shared the billing. I'd heard about kizomba, seen it on YouTube, but had never encountered it in the flesh, so last Friday seemed as good a time as any to do so.

It was a bit of a mad dash to get in from work and get there in time for the eight o'clock lesson, and I realised that despite remonstrations on the leaflet to be prompt it was to no avail. I spent the time catching up with some friends. Antonio is a slight, personable character in the local scene and this was his maiden outing as a teacher, having finally succumbed to pester power by friends. With teaching support provided by Bill and two very capable demonstrators, Antonio made it through the session. Considering it was his first time, and his lack of instructor training, I would say without a hint of condescension that he acquitted himself well. The content comprised a line-dance routine as a warm-up which he was to use again later in the night, and a couple of simple pieces of vocabulary.

Wearing my dance instructor's hat, it was most useful for me to observe his quality of movement and which parts of his body held which bits of time. It was also very interesting as a dance system, changes being led by the lead's left leg and a concommitant rhythmic cue by the body in very close hold, and different rhythms for even the basic bits of movement vocabulary. The proof of the pudding is that at the end of the session, I found myself wanting to know more about the dance - the ultimate objective of any introductory lesson.

And then the social dancing started.

I always enjoy Bill's parties. His music policy always has a fit of reggae plus RnB at past-midnight, followed by more salsa, then a smattering of tango at the end. Africando is a constant companion. Impatient salseros tend to leave when the reggae comes on, but if you take the time to enjoy the sounds of Bob Marley, you'll find yourself back in Cuban rhythms before you know it. The formula works well for the night but I suspect that if it were any more frequent, it would assume the guise of the routine.

But I find myself going there as often as I can, not because of the music, but because the atmosphere is welcoming, and the people are friendly... a good number of whom have become friends. Sadly, Sheffield seems to suffer a dearth of mid-sized salsa dance events like that of SalsaWorks in Wetherby, and Dance-Cubana's party in Nottingham. But whenever this is on, it's not unusual to see dancers from the nearby cities turn up.

Bill's social truly lives up to its name.

Loo Yen

A Herculean Effort

That's the only way I can describe the challenge that faces York's larger-than-life salsa teacher Tony Piper every year in his administration of the 12th Night Extravaganza. With his steely-eyed glare, he must stare the task into cowering submission; and he must do so with increasing ease given that the annual salsa event of the North just keeps on growing from strength to strength.

The rest of the time Tony's sweetness and light (he'll hate me for saying that).

Now I'd heard a lot about the 12th Night over the past few years, in favourable terms and in increasing numbers, but somehow I'd contrived to retain my 12th Night virginity... that is until last weekend. You see several months ago, Nicolai (Fuego Latino are partners in the event) sounded me out if I would be interested in teaching a timing workshop. As usual, he's a real charmer. After drinks and discussion with Helena, Tony and Nicolai on a Sunday evening, I did the professional educator thing and submitted a workshop definition document for their approval. I also spent part of the Christmas break mulling over a lesson plan broad enough to suit the contingencies, yet targeted enough to be coherent.

And so the first Friday of 2008 proved to be a bit of a mad rush, but with the help of Dan Flower (fellow salsa teacher, friend and partner-in-crime) we wended our merry way up north on his wheels, where we checked into the Monkbar Hotel and walked the 200 metres or so to the venue: St. John's College on Lord Mayor's Walk. On entering Temple Hall, water bottles at the ready, we found that the lessons were still on the go. No matter... I love watching others teaching and yet more others learning.

Being a stranger to the York scene and this event, the evening dance was a sea of unfamiliar faces dotted with the occassional friend. Dan and I put ourselves about a bit and were never short for partners, which we took as a positive indicator of a vibrantly open-minded scene. The only thing stopping me from dancing more was the prospect of teaching the next day and the heat - that'll teach me for not dancing more whilst I'm in the tropics! The main draw that night was "Bourbon y Tequila" a north-and-south 9 piece salsa band based in Leeds. I'd heard a lot about them and was keen to watch them in action.

So when they came onstage, I put my music director's hat on.

They played two sets comprising current standards, the vast majority of their numbers were covers. They played tightly, which told me that they gigged often; and their strongest point was their horns, which were very well arranged and gave them a big brassy sound. The sound engineer Om got the balance right too, although I personally would have preferred a bit more cut from the bongó and more rounded open tones from the congas. I do feel that they suffered somewhat from the lack of backing vocalists, which meant a lack of harmonic timbre and a smaller framework for improvised lead vocals. This was most noticable towards the latter end of each song, where I got the distinct feeling whilst dancing to their music that they should have ended each one sooner instead of drawing things out. [I used to face a similar issue with 4de12, and opted then to do things the hard way: to keep the songs compact and increase the number of numbers in each set.] I think that this would have lent their sets more energy and texture.

Having said all of that, my bias towards live music will always ensure a positive critical attitude. Overall I think they acquitted themselves very well and many of the dancers there thought so too. Soon after they'd finished, I was off to bed.

First thing the next morning, Dan and I hit the hotel restaurant for our cooked breakfast and cups of tea. We were joined by delightful fellow-Sheffielders Mandy and Heather, who told us with bleary-eyed enthusiasm what a great time they'd had the night before, and that they were going to snooze again after breakfast. No such luxury for us, we were teaching in one of the morning slots.

All beginner and improver classes were located at the Students' Union building, and Tony was taking the first slot which differentiated (educator-speak for breaking up a class by student ability and experience) part-way between Tony and Mary, and Alfredo and Christine - all of whom are teachers of SalsaYork. Dan and I didn't need much coaxing to join in as man-meat lead-filler. I'm glad we did, as it gave me extended contact with the students before it was my turn to teach the timing workshop.

It's one thing to teach timing over three hours to a select group of trainees whom you've gotten to know over a period of several weeks. It's quite another to teach timing to a group of improvers with whom you'd only just met, in one hour. But I was not afraid. No. I had three major factors on my side: Dan on the decks who made the operations of the lesson run smoothly; Nicolai as a reassuring and familiar face to the whole class; and plenty of planning on my part. It went without a hitch, and we managed to preserve the course's 100% success record. Usually it's the men who struggle the most in conventional timing lessons so I use them as the benchmark. At the close, they were moving to time with that glint of certainty in their eyes. Magic!

The college is a school for the performing arts, so there are plenty of spaces for dance instruction - it's a genius place to hold this event. We moved the instruments into the staff room, and I got acquainted with a few more instructors before hunting down an unfulfilling lunch in the cafeteria. That proved to be a blessing in disguise as I attended Guillermo's rumba guaguancó class soon after (he's from Guantanamo). Boy, was it energetic! I wish I'd had pen and paper on me to write down all the exercises he put us through. With rumba being a long-time curiosity of mine, I'm right now figuring out when I can make a commitment to travelling up to attend his lessons regularly.

Since I was due to teach the evening session I made a break for the hotel to freshen up, where I caught up with Dan who was sneaking a power-nap. With no such time to spend, a shower and change later, and we were out in search of an early evening meal. York can be a bit of a tourist-trap for the unfamiliar, and I certainly fall into that category. We found a place with passable but overvalued Italian food before making it back to the college in time to set up for my second workshop.

When my charges walked in, I could tell that they'd had a long day, and I knew that they'd struggle to deal with the abstract concepts and the different teaching paradigm. They did try their utmost; no-one was there who didn't really want to be there so, credit to them, they really stuck at it all the way through the advanced material. We took the time to digress and talk about the various timings that pervade the salsa scene, which everyone seemed to get a lot out of (that flexibility is one of the benefits of a workshop format). I learned quite a bit too, about the landscape of the UK salsa scene, just from direction of the questions asked of me by the attendees. Then everybody scarpered to go and watch the dance shows because I'd overrun.

Although there were mitigating circumstances, I'm still slightly miffed with myself for delivering a less than scintillating lesson. Next time I do this, I'll have to plead with Tony to schedule my classes for an earlier time, and I have to tighten the specifications of this particular level of workshop.

I danced the remainder of the night, right up to the close. Lubi and Tony played great sets, and I sensed a more of a care-free attitude - people weren't consciously holding anything in reserve like they were the night before. I congratulated Tony, Helena and Nicolai on a great salsa weekend.

The next morning, there was just time for a friend to friend chat with Nicolai over breakfast before making tracks for home. It was a beautiful bright day.

Okay, I'm not getting any younger and it did take me a few days to recover, but that's the most fun I've had at a salsa event in ages. (Excepting the ones where I'm there as part of the band of course!)

If that's the shape of things to come, then 2008 could well be the big momma of all salsa years.

Yeo Loo Yen

¡Ay Dios! Ampárame

I was sitting in a Coffeeshop yesterday evening after close of work, making additions to the salsa band facebook site, when my phone rang. Surprisingly, it was Nicolai. Surprising not that he would call, but this was not his 'social routine' time.

I was right. After a friendly exchange, it turned out that he had been partially double-booked i.e. overlapped, with his DJ gig here at Sheffield's Bar Cubana on Fridays. He was wondering if I was free to cover for him for the 30-45 minutes it would take for him to get there from his earlier engagement. "Sure" (I like saying yes, and whatismore, how can one resist Nicolai?).

Two years ago it would've been like water off a duck's back, but this time a little bit of inconvenience was involved. Even though I did have a lot of new material to introduce, I hadn't prepared the supporting information in the DJ sense.

"What's that mean?"

It's about not settling into a 'comfort zone' that I see many of my peers doing, where eventually, one can predict which songs they're going to play next. One of the factors contributing to it is they way they use a CD i.e. they mark down the tracks they will use only.

This means for example, that if they find two tracks that they would use on a CD, they would use those two exclusively and fail to revisit the whole CD as their skills develop. This negates the possibility that some of the remainder might become valuable as the DJ's set-building skills develop. Therefore the exclusive system of rating restricts a DJ's ability to develop.

I rate each song in an album: objectively in terms of length, tempo in beats per minute, and rhythm type; subjectively on a scale of 1-5 and whether or not it is accessible to an audience that is new to the genre. I revisit the subjective evaluation every couple of years.

Now back to my story...

Nicolai said that it would take only six or so songs, but I always pegged him as an optimist (bless him). At the very least I needed to be prepared for an hour. But I had to account for the fact that I hadn't DJed in a while, and that I had new albums that I was not as fully conversant with as I would have liked. This required one of my special non-standard strategies.

But before I get to that, I should say that I classify my music as 'music' and 'animal food' - not politically correct I know.

'Animal food', to put it bluntly, is for a target audience of dancers who are happy to remain ignorant and uncaring of any possible cultural connections. All they want is an obvious rhythmic structure to which they can perform their vocabulary. Notice I use the word 'to' and not 'in' - the latter would imply that they did so in tempo. 'Music' satisfies the cultural insider as well as the interested outsider at a multitude of levels becuase the pieces would including socio-political commentary and significant cultural motifs.

And before any readers of my diary get up in arms about it, contents of the two groups aren't mutually exclusive.

I took these CDs:

• 8 get-out-of-jail-free cards: 4 of music, 4 of animal food.
  These are albums, single artist or compilations, where every single track is usable under the broadest range of circumstances e.g. 'Mandali' - Africando (animal food), 'Llego...' - Los Van Van (music).
  
• 8 mood-changers/floor-fillers: again 4 of music, 4 of animal food. These would give me the rhythmic and melodic diversity to change direction and texture. Typically there would be 2 or 3 tracks per album. Examples: 'Pa'l Bailador' - Johnny Polanco (animal food), 'Island Life' - Yerba Buena (music). I call them fulcrum pieces.
  
• 8 new and relatively new albums. For DJs of my kind these are the lifeblood of our playlists.
  

The Rationale
I view every evening of music in the same way as I understand dance, and that is having stability, movement, and innovation. The dynamism of the set is based on the level of mood-movement and innovation, and that itself is dependent on the inclination of the audience that particular evening.

The get-out-of-jail-free cards form the backbone, and buy me resting time should I need it when looking for the appropriate new song. It also makes sure my audience have a comfort zone that I can return them to.

The fulcrum pieces allow me to change moods, so my audience has short-term identity and long-term variety.

The innovations are why music and dance evolves. They are hard work to learn how to incorporate effectively into a set, but without new pieces, how else can we keep a scene fresh and vital? (Many DJs I know who play day-in day-out sadly take the easy route and eventually stop allocating enough energy and time to deploying new music thoughtfully.)

Two dozen CDs is quite a lot to take for just an hour or so, but you never know what sort of audience you're going to get at Cubana. At its extreme, I'd only have a dozen to choose from and that would average one track from each CD.

How the night panned out
I always start as I mean to go on. Only the good stuff.

Some people play not-so-good songs at the start and pull out the fancy stuff later. To them I say, "why don't you build a collection full of the good stuff instead of padding it out with cheap filler?" (i.e. Jamie Oliver's equivalent of turkey twizzlers.)

45 minutes into the set, everyone's on the dance floor. There's a bunch of Cubans, some Venezuelans and Colombians, other motley Latin Americans plus Interested Outsiders. I know it's going to be a 'Music' night. Fantastic!

Monica from the bar informs me that Nicolai's called and that they're running 15-20 minutes late. That's okay, I anticipated that. Things are going great.

I play it pretty safe and straight-up since I don't want to paint Nicolai into a corner in terms of atmosphere when he turns up to take over. I'm just over halfway through my armoury of tracks of this class (the safe-straight-up class).

I get a call from Helena (a friend and Nicolai's salsa partner) but mobile reception sucks and we get cut off thrice. Monica from the bar tells me that Nicolai's car has broken down and she asks if I have enough music to make it through the night on my own. I say, "I don't think so". She hands me Cubana's folder of material, which frankly, is the stuff I'd never touch. No offence - it's just not my style.

Time to get radical.

Situation Report
I know I'm running out of safe tracks, and that I have to start using more tracks from the same artist and album (SAA). I have a 'Music' audience. Irrespective, I have to start taking risks.

I need to increase the dynamism of the night, using fulcrum pieces to swing the moods farther to extremes. I can then deploy songs from the SAA in the middle of the movements, and the general audience won't notice what I've done.

Execution
The main fulcrum pieces were from 'Island Life' by Yerba Buena, and 'El Amor De Mi Tierra' by Carlos Vives. The associations of songs extended from common artists, producers, era, and musical movement to include the lead instrument frequency range. Every 'risky' piece had at least one best-case and worst-case sequence exit route.

Although my material was heavily overspecified to the 45min parameter, it was way underspecified for 3 hours. But I wanted to avoid digging deelply into the 'animal food' compartment; it would not have been fair on the music-loving dancers there.

There were a number of occassions where I put on a song and crossed my fingers. A normal audience would not have gone for it I'm sure, but I felt I had some measure of the dancers there last night. To their credit they just took it in with aplomb; whatever I threw at them, they just danced and danced and danced.

It was an object lesson for the Interested Outsiders, and the general public.

At the end, when the lights came up and 'Havana City' died away, I found myself reminded of what I'd been missing in eschewing DJing for Cuatro de Diciembre (not that that will change anytime soon).

As I left, the doorman took me aside and spoke of the number of people who had said how good the music had been tonight; and that he had not heard patrons speak like that before. A grin split his face.

It was done on the back of just over a dozen CDs.

I would have walked home in a fog of smug if not for recognising one thing: thank God for music-loving Latins.

Loo Yen