Dancing Wisely

A piece of advice to younger/newer dancers who might tend to view the less-technical style of previous generations with a bit of snark, disdain, or condescension: consider reevaluating your judgment. This isn't an admonishment, just a note to let you know what you are missing and how you may appear to others. It's okay to like whatever you like and to be proud of what you do, but I would encourage you to consider what your own dancing would look like had you begun your education in a different era, and what the top stars will be doing in 15 years. Yesterday's visionaries weren't any less gifted and industrious than today's trailblazers. The bar didn't raise itself. Don't be an airhead, and don't embarrass yourself. Appreciate what has come before you as the gift that it is.

I became a good dancer very quickly in part because of focus, discipline, and affinity, but I was also in a good place at a good time. But if I were 25 years old today and taking my first belly dance class, I could probably get done in 2 or 3 years what, 15 years ago, it took me 10 years to figure out. (This would be especially true in some sort of confusing time warp where I got to study from my own DVDs and YouTube videos and start learning now from the foundation of what my own students and students' students have done in their careers.)

This isn't just belly dance, by the way. Compare any Olympic time/score/routine from the 50s to the expectations for today's athletes. Or just compare your cell phone to the one you had 5 years ago. Our dance builds on the achievements of those who came before us, and continues to evolve thanks to the examples and challenges we set for one another. The resources that are now available not only make it possible for gifted dancers to get very good very fast, they continually push the standard higher, constantly shifting our perception of what is possible.

I'm not telling you to be deferential and respectful to your teachers and to dancers of previous generations. Do as you see fit—a gracious outlook is good for your mental health and good manners are a good policy, but teachers don't deserve all the credit for their students' work and respect should be saved for those that deserve it. But don't kid yourself about the foundations your work has built on. To think that your dancing (or mine, or that of fill-in-the-blank OMG Big Name) sprang like Athena fully-formed from the head of Zeus is pathetic ignorance and foolish self-importance. Stop advertising that ignorance, or, better yet, divest yourself of it entirely. You, lucky you, are the beneficiary of an amazing legacy. If you'd like to be a better dancer or just a more sensible grown-up, wrap your head around the idea that whether or not you like the legacy that's been handed to you is different from having the wisdom to appreciate it. Why appreciate it? The more you do, the more you'll be able to do something amazing with it. (And the dignity you gain won't hurt either.)

Anatomy of a Tear-Jerker Why does Adele's 'Someone Like You' make everyone cry? Science has found the formula

This article from the Wall Street Journal could equally well be titled "Science of Tarab."

If "Someone Like You" produces such intense sadness in listeners, why is it so popular? Last year, Robert Zatorre and his team of neuroscientists at McGill University reported that emotionally intense music releases dopamine in the pleasure and reward centers of the brain, similar to the effects of food, sex and drugs. This makes us feel good and motivates us to repeat the behavior.

Measuring listeners' responses, Dr. Zatorre's team found that the number of goose bumps observed correlated with the amount of dopamine released, even when the music was extremely sad. The results suggest that the more emotions a song provokes—whether depressing or uplifting—the more we crave the song.

Full article.

Style and Substance

From New England Public Radio's Classical Music Blog, on the "sound" of authenticity.

In praise of style:

Every conductor worth his/her baton knows that Béla Bartók's music is strongly influenced by the rhythms of the Hungarian language, which places the stress on the first syllable of every word.  So, Bartók's musical phrases should be accented in the same way, and orchestras need to be taught to do it right.

And of substance:

Finally and most elusively, there's the quality that you could call commitment, or belief, or pride.  It's what the late violinist-violist-teacher Philipp Naegele meant when he once told me "we all play Russian music as if it were great; the Russians play it like they know it's great."  How does that translate to sound?  In the best "authentic" performances [...] it can be heard in the unfussy, unfancy approach to the music.  There's no showing off, with stretched phrases or exaggerated dynamic effects, how well you've mastered the work's style.  The performances, taut and direct, call attention not to the interpretation, but to the work.   They have nothing to prove, no one to impress, only the composer to serve.

Read the full post.