The summer tap class I was taking ended in September; now I'm taking the Fall-quarter Saturday tap class, which is a Beginner class. It probably would have made more sense to continue taking an Intermediate/Advanced class, but it's now on Wednesday evenings at 6:00, and I'm usually right in the middle of my evening commute at that time.
So, I'm taking the Beginner class...and it's great! I can focus on refining my technique instead of scrambling to memorize complicated choreography. (Not that I don't enjoy the challenge of memorizing a tricky routine. I do. I like getting a mental workout as well as a physical one.) As a "beginner," I feel that I'm benefiting from the teacher's focus on showing us individual steps and combinations that we practice over and over again until we've got (almost) every nuance correct. And we're doing a lot of "across the floor" work, which is fun and good exercise. Often, the teacher puts on this funky instrumental song by Prince, and off we go down the floor.
We're also learning choreography to "Boogie Shoes," a song that everyone but me seems to recognize and love. It's got sort of a funk-meets-disco sound, and I'm guessing it's from the 70s...? I don't know. Correct me if I'm wrong. Anyway, it's a fun, easy routine with quite a bit of repetition, so memorizing it is not strenuous like memorizing the choreography to "Watermelon Man" was.
I was talking with my parents tonight on the phone about my tap class, and they were asking me about why I love tap so much. I told them I think it's because tap is mostly about rhythm and sound, and much less about flexibility, for example, than say, ballet. Anyone with a sense of rhythm and some balance could learn some tap steps. Also, it just seems a little more relaxed and casual than, again, ballet (or even jazz). I loooooove watching ballet, but I'm not particularly interested in dancing it myself. There are just so many rules! And I'm not into embarking on something I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be particularly good at. Ballet is HARD. (I took it for two or three years as a child.) It's even physically painful! It's beautiful and elegant and wonderful to watch, but I won't be donning pale pink tights and a leotard anytime soon.
S keeps asking me if I'll continue tap indefinitely, or if I'll take some other dance classes. I have wanted to try hip-hop for many years, but I have had trouble locating studios in the L.A. area that offer it to adults for purposes of fun and recreation. (I've found that many hip-hop classes out here are for actors who want to add the skill of hip-hop dancing to their resumes.)
I've also thought about trying swing, though I know that it's really hard. (Maybe I'm just too old!)
So, I don't know. I think the important thing is that I continue dancing. It makes me happy and takes my mind off my worries. It gets my blood moving, and it allows me to express the joy that music brings me.
Showing posts with label dancing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dancing. Show all posts
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Happy Feet, Part 2
So here's something: I've been tap-dancing again! In late spring of this year I began a Saturday tap workshop at a dance studio a few blocks from home. Since June, I've been learning some tricky, extremely challenging choreography to the song "Watermelon Man," by Pancho Sanchez. (Yeah, I have no idea who he is, either. But it's a fun, catchy song!)
My teeny class (there are four of us, total, and many Saturdays one or two are absent) just last weekend finished learning the choreography, and now we'll be practicing it and "perfecting" it (ha) until we perform for the public on September 9th. The venue is some sort of fair or street carnival or something in Manhattan Beach. I cannot wait! I'm a closeted ham. I love to perform---as long as I feel prepared. I think by next month I'll be ready to share my enthusiasm and mediocre grasp of intermediate-to-advanced tap moves with the world!
Seriously, you should see me doing this dance. I have to concentrate so hard; I do the worst job ever of "making it look easy." The moves are complicated and really syncopated. There's no "flap-ball-change, flap-ball-change" here! We do "riffs" and "drawbacks" and "the Eleanor Powell" and a crapload of turns. Grace, my teacher, is always reminding us that her style of tap is less Broadway and more Savion Glover. "Rhythmic tap" is what she calls it.
Whatever it is, it is truly kicking my ass! But in a good way. I love it and plan to continue tapping year-round.
My teeny class (there are four of us, total, and many Saturdays one or two are absent) just last weekend finished learning the choreography, and now we'll be practicing it and "perfecting" it (ha) until we perform for the public on September 9th. The venue is some sort of fair or street carnival or something in Manhattan Beach. I cannot wait! I'm a closeted ham. I love to perform---as long as I feel prepared. I think by next month I'll be ready to share my enthusiasm and mediocre grasp of intermediate-to-advanced tap moves with the world!
Seriously, you should see me doing this dance. I have to concentrate so hard; I do the worst job ever of "making it look easy." The moves are complicated and really syncopated. There's no "flap-ball-change, flap-ball-change" here! We do "riffs" and "drawbacks" and "the Eleanor Powell" and a crapload of turns. Grace, my teacher, is always reminding us that her style of tap is less Broadway and more Savion Glover. "Rhythmic tap" is what she calls it.
Whatever it is, it is truly kicking my ass! But in a good way. I love it and plan to continue tapping year-round.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
"Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle"
This tap class is so very fun. We're now at the point where we're learning a combination of steps to the song "Razzle Dazzle" (sung by Richard Gere) from the Chicago soundtrack. It's so shmaltzy! I feel like I should be dancing in a top hat and fishnets instead of my too-small, wrinkly yoga pants and various faded tank tops. It's like some sort of twisted, amateur cabaret. I love it! KK, the instructor, has us doing the silliest, goofiest moves, such as seven flaps in a circle with arms outstretched and total jazz hands. We also do a flap-ball-change, flap-ball-change, pivot, pivot move that I like to embellish with a little pop of the hip at the top of each pivot, because I am a dork who feels compelled to ham it up in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
The first week, KK kept admonishing everyone to lighten up and try smiling, for god's sake, because we were all concentrating so hard, furrowing our respective brows, and appearing more or less constipated. Now we're all grins and giggles, because who can resist smiling when she's toe-heeling across the floor while Richard Gere sings "Give 'em the ol' flim-flam flummox"? During class two weeks ago, someone actually spontaneously shouted, "This is fun!" as we were practicing our combination to music.
One of the best parts of class is returning home afterward and showing S what we've learned that day. I can't $#@%ing find my Chicago CD, of course, so I have to sing the lyrics myself while dancing the moves for S. S gets this delightfully horrified-amused-entertained-disbelieving look on his face, and slowly shakes his head back and forth as I make my way through the combination. I can tell he's like, "Dear god, who is this freaky woman I married?" It's fabulous.
The first week, KK kept admonishing everyone to lighten up and try smiling, for god's sake, because we were all concentrating so hard, furrowing our respective brows, and appearing more or less constipated. Now we're all grins and giggles, because who can resist smiling when she's toe-heeling across the floor while Richard Gere sings "Give 'em the ol' flim-flam flummox"? During class two weeks ago, someone actually spontaneously shouted, "This is fun!" as we were practicing our combination to music.
One of the best parts of class is returning home afterward and showing S what we've learned that day. I can't $#@%ing find my Chicago CD, of course, so I have to sing the lyrics myself while dancing the moves for S. S gets this delightfully horrified-amused-entertained-disbelieving look on his face, and slowly shakes his head back and forth as I make my way through the combination. I can tell he's like, "Dear god, who is this freaky woman I married?" It's fabulous.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Happy Feet
Hello there. I guess I should start off by announcing that the much trumpeted "8 in 8" plan is on hold for the time being. I currently weigh 128 pounds, and my doctor advises me to stay put at that number because it's apparently just right for me. Well, OK. I'm happy to know I'm not officially overweight, and I'll just keep on with the moderate working-out and mindful eating. I just won't actively try to lose any additional weight. Too bad, though, because I do love saying "8 in 8." It's catchy.
Right then. Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, I'm eager to tell you about my fun little community-college extension-program tap-dance class, which began last night. Of course, not surprisingly, I started off on the wrong foot (ha!) by arriving to the studio shod in rubber-soled Pumas, which---how could I have forgotten this?!---is a dance-class no-no. Whoops! No rubber-soled shoes, ever! The kindly instructor gently suggested I find some leather-soled shoes (read "ballet or jazz slippers") or some tap shoes (duh), or that I just dance in my socks or with bare feet (eeew). Hmm. I mean, I didn't want to get all crazy and go buy real-deal tap shoes for a freaking five-week, low-key, adult-ed. tap class, but it seems that's the best option of those offered me by the instructor. So, OK. Except, they cost money! And they seem like such a frivolous purchase for someone who's just casually dabbling in tap. Also, were I to own a pair of tap shoes, I'd be super-tempted to wear them around our all-hardwood-floors apartment for fun, which would really, really annoy the neighbor (and scare the bejesus out of my cats.) But, whatev. I might try to score a used pair on Craig's List.
Aaaaaaaaanyway, last night's class! It got off to a slow start, since the ballet class beforehand ran late. (Hey, no fair!) Speaking of which, can I just say THANK GOD I exercised good judgment (for once) and refrained from signing up for ballet. I watched the last few minutes of last night's class, and it was sort of funny-sad-pitiful. I know I would feel ridiculous, elephantine, and clunky trying to run lightly on my toes across the studio, arms outstretched, as if I'm "trying to catch a train," as the instructor put it. It was clear from their self-concious giggling that many of those courageous ballet students felt a bit ridiculous, too.
So the ballet class ended late, and my class started late. Regardless, it was mildly thrilling walking into a dance studio for the first time since last winter’s ballroom-dance class/fiasco. I love the worn hardwood floors, the smooth ballet barre along the back wall, the side-to-side mirrors along the front...even the mild stink of sweat and feet. It's comforting and takes me back to the many happy afternoons I spent in Miss Barb's dance studio back in the day. My class includes ten women of varying ages and ethnicities, and no men. It's a very diverse group (except for the no-men thing): a couple of women have no tap experience whatsoever, and several took a couple of years of it as kids, like me. One woman also practices Romanian dance as a hobby, which she says is similar to tap.
We first stood at the barre and practiced flapping one foot repeatedly, over and over, using our thigh muscles to perform most of the action. After practicing and more or less perfecting the flap on each foot, we tried it moving across the floor. She had us moving really slowly, which was kind of excruciating. Flaps are one thing I remember clearly, and they're much easier to do fast than slowly.
After flapping, we learned flap-ball-changes, which are fun and easy. Some of my classmates were having trouble finding the beat of the music, which was of course exacerbated by the din of clacking tap shoes. When people in tap shoes are off beat, it's painfully obvious. Errrgh! Our instructor, being very sweet and nice and all, encouraged those of us who were off-rhythm to "practice finding the beat in popular music" the next time we're listening to the radio. (Sigh.) I have to say, a person could be as athletic and strong and agile as hell, but without rhythm, that person will never be a decent dancer, I'm afraid.
After flap-ball-change, the instructor mixed things up a bit and had us heel-toe across the floor several times. I couldn't help but swing my arms a bit, which ended up looking rather hoe-down when I caught a glipse of myself in the mirror. Hee. We then toe-heeled, which is not as easy as it sounds, because, to do it right, you must place all your body weight on the foot that's toe-ing. If you just try to imagine that for a minute, you'll maybe see what I mean. Also, it's not a natural movement, since regular walking is always heel-toe, not the opposite.
Finally, at the end of class: flap-ball-change-ball-change! Man, was that ever fun! It actually felt like real tap dancing and was just challenging enough to make me feel accomplished once I got it down.
Today, in an effort to make P and J at work laugh, I tried flapping my way over to P's cubicle with some work. I stupidly caught my feet on the office carpeting and almost did a face-plant, which actually made for a more dramatic entry into P's cube than I had planned.
Right then. Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, I'm eager to tell you about my fun little community-college extension-program tap-dance class, which began last night. Of course, not surprisingly, I started off on the wrong foot (ha!) by arriving to the studio shod in rubber-soled Pumas, which---how could I have forgotten this?!---is a dance-class no-no. Whoops! No rubber-soled shoes, ever! The kindly instructor gently suggested I find some leather-soled shoes (read "ballet or jazz slippers") or some tap shoes (duh), or that I just dance in my socks or with bare feet (eeew). Hmm. I mean, I didn't want to get all crazy and go buy real-deal tap shoes for a freaking five-week, low-key, adult-ed. tap class, but it seems that's the best option of those offered me by the instructor. So, OK. Except, they cost money! And they seem like such a frivolous purchase for someone who's just casually dabbling in tap. Also, were I to own a pair of tap shoes, I'd be super-tempted to wear them around our all-hardwood-floors apartment for fun, which would really, really annoy the neighbor (and scare the bejesus out of my cats.) But, whatev. I might try to score a used pair on Craig's List.
Aaaaaaaaanyway, last night's class! It got off to a slow start, since the ballet class beforehand ran late. (Hey, no fair!) Speaking of which, can I just say THANK GOD I exercised good judgment (for once) and refrained from signing up for ballet. I watched the last few minutes of last night's class, and it was sort of funny-sad-pitiful. I know I would feel ridiculous, elephantine, and clunky trying to run lightly on my toes across the studio, arms outstretched, as if I'm "trying to catch a train," as the instructor put it. It was clear from their self-concious giggling that many of those courageous ballet students felt a bit ridiculous, too.
So the ballet class ended late, and my class started late. Regardless, it was mildly thrilling walking into a dance studio for the first time since last winter’s ballroom-dance class/fiasco. I love the worn hardwood floors, the smooth ballet barre along the back wall, the side-to-side mirrors along the front...even the mild stink of sweat and feet. It's comforting and takes me back to the many happy afternoons I spent in Miss Barb's dance studio back in the day. My class includes ten women of varying ages and ethnicities, and no men. It's a very diverse group (except for the no-men thing): a couple of women have no tap experience whatsoever, and several took a couple of years of it as kids, like me. One woman also practices Romanian dance as a hobby, which she says is similar to tap.
We first stood at the barre and practiced flapping one foot repeatedly, over and over, using our thigh muscles to perform most of the action. After practicing and more or less perfecting the flap on each foot, we tried it moving across the floor. She had us moving really slowly, which was kind of excruciating. Flaps are one thing I remember clearly, and they're much easier to do fast than slowly.
After flapping, we learned flap-ball-changes, which are fun and easy. Some of my classmates were having trouble finding the beat of the music, which was of course exacerbated by the din of clacking tap shoes. When people in tap shoes are off beat, it's painfully obvious. Errrgh! Our instructor, being very sweet and nice and all, encouraged those of us who were off-rhythm to "practice finding the beat in popular music" the next time we're listening to the radio. (Sigh.) I have to say, a person could be as athletic and strong and agile as hell, but without rhythm, that person will never be a decent dancer, I'm afraid.
After flap-ball-change, the instructor mixed things up a bit and had us heel-toe across the floor several times. I couldn't help but swing my arms a bit, which ended up looking rather hoe-down when I caught a glipse of myself in the mirror. Hee. We then toe-heeled, which is not as easy as it sounds, because, to do it right, you must place all your body weight on the foot that's toe-ing. If you just try to imagine that for a minute, you'll maybe see what I mean. Also, it's not a natural movement, since regular walking is always heel-toe, not the opposite.
Finally, at the end of class: flap-ball-change-ball-change! Man, was that ever fun! It actually felt like real tap dancing and was just challenging enough to make me feel accomplished once I got it down.
Today, in an effort to make P and J at work laugh, I tried flapping my way over to P's cubicle with some work. I stupidly caught my feet on the office carpeting and almost did a face-plant, which actually made for a more dramatic entry into P's cube than I had planned.
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