old times and new times
I love love love this article on the Gilded Serpent.
Nina writes about the old cabaret clubs of eighth avenue New York and talks about how things have changed:
http://www.gildedserpent.com/art43/ninacab2dj.htm
This article made me a bit wistful. I can't imagine what it was like, and yet I have heard so many stories from my teacher, Amira Jamal. She was a dancer in the New York clubs in the seventies, and she has mentioned these musicians, even dancing alongside Ozel Turkbas. Back then, she tells us - the dancer's set could last over an hour. I can always imagine her as a young woman in a blue velvet bedlah, doing sultry floorwork to a slow chiftetelli or taxim in a smoky club, one hand undulating out towards the audience to the tune of a mournful clarinet. I am happy to be alive now, but I would love to time-travel back to these eighth-avenue clubs!
As the author laments the end of these clubs, I do feel lucky in Boston. Not only do we have several clubs (the Athenian Corner, the Middle East) where you could hear live musicians accompanied by dancers; but we also have some new Lebanese supper clubs where live bands play for some of our city's best dancers (like my other teacher, Najmat). On top of that, we have the dancer's community, the haflis and dancer's events. There seems to be an opportunity for anyone to perform in some way or another. I think we are also lucky here to have preserved that old Turkish, Armenian and Greek music - thanks to our musicians (like Michael Gregian, who co-taught a workshop last night on live taxim).
However, lately at haflis around here, and at national events like Rakkasah, I have noticed there is a trend towards non-traditional. It seems fewer and fewer dancers are interested in using Arabic music. Even the Arabic pop is giving way to American hip hop. I can appreciate the tribal-fusion stylings, and there was a time when I saw so much novelty that I preferred them to the traditionalists. But it seems like we're losing decades of knowledge. Although I meet many dancers online who care about Middle Eastern music and dance styles, I see in our events many new dancers who do not seem to know or care to learn about these things. They would rather do something cool, hip, new and ultimately American. I discovered this dance on a trip to Istanbul, and I feel even more strongly about representing the culture after my recent trip to Egypt. I know I will always have an American accent on this dance, but I also feel like it's my responsibility to learn as much as I can about middle eastern culture, and stay respectful to the grandmothers of this dance form.
Because of my teachers, I have been exposed to the traditional styles of dance and music. Thanks to Amira Jamal, I have learned about the early traditions of American Cabaret, that smoky nightclub dancing in the article. Katia has taught me about folkloric dance, and the importance of respecting it. Najmat spends as much time as she can listening to live Arabic music, and has created her own dance style by watching how Arabs dance - and she brings that to class. Then there is my dear friend Badriya, who is equally if not more obsessed with learning authentic middle eastern dance, and the great discussions we have. I count myself lucky because of these people, and even though I am young in this dance scene, I do feel strongly about tradition and keeping this beautiful Middle Eastern/Mediterranean dance form alive. This post is something of an homage to them, as well as to the author of that interesting Gilded Serpent article.
Nina writes about the old cabaret clubs of eighth avenue New York and talks about how things have changed:
http://www.gildedserpent.com/art43/ninacab2dj.htm
This article made me a bit wistful. I can't imagine what it was like, and yet I have heard so many stories from my teacher, Amira Jamal. She was a dancer in the New York clubs in the seventies, and she has mentioned these musicians, even dancing alongside Ozel Turkbas. Back then, she tells us - the dancer's set could last over an hour. I can always imagine her as a young woman in a blue velvet bedlah, doing sultry floorwork to a slow chiftetelli or taxim in a smoky club, one hand undulating out towards the audience to the tune of a mournful clarinet. I am happy to be alive now, but I would love to time-travel back to these eighth-avenue clubs!
As the author laments the end of these clubs, I do feel lucky in Boston. Not only do we have several clubs (the Athenian Corner, the Middle East) where you could hear live musicians accompanied by dancers; but we also have some new Lebanese supper clubs where live bands play for some of our city's best dancers (like my other teacher, Najmat). On top of that, we have the dancer's community, the haflis and dancer's events. There seems to be an opportunity for anyone to perform in some way or another. I think we are also lucky here to have preserved that old Turkish, Armenian and Greek music - thanks to our musicians (like Michael Gregian, who co-taught a workshop last night on live taxim).
However, lately at haflis around here, and at national events like Rakkasah, I have noticed there is a trend towards non-traditional. It seems fewer and fewer dancers are interested in using Arabic music. Even the Arabic pop is giving way to American hip hop. I can appreciate the tribal-fusion stylings, and there was a time when I saw so much novelty that I preferred them to the traditionalists. But it seems like we're losing decades of knowledge. Although I meet many dancers online who care about Middle Eastern music and dance styles, I see in our events many new dancers who do not seem to know or care to learn about these things. They would rather do something cool, hip, new and ultimately American. I discovered this dance on a trip to Istanbul, and I feel even more strongly about representing the culture after my recent trip to Egypt. I know I will always have an American accent on this dance, but I also feel like it's my responsibility to learn as much as I can about middle eastern culture, and stay respectful to the grandmothers of this dance form.
Because of my teachers, I have been exposed to the traditional styles of dance and music. Thanks to Amira Jamal, I have learned about the early traditions of American Cabaret, that smoky nightclub dancing in the article. Katia has taught me about folkloric dance, and the importance of respecting it. Najmat spends as much time as she can listening to live Arabic music, and has created her own dance style by watching how Arabs dance - and she brings that to class. Then there is my dear friend Badriya, who is equally if not more obsessed with learning authentic middle eastern dance, and the great discussions we have. I count myself lucky because of these people, and even though I am young in this dance scene, I do feel strongly about tradition and keeping this beautiful Middle Eastern/Mediterranean dance form alive. This post is something of an homage to them, as well as to the author of that interesting Gilded Serpent article.
Labels: article, belly dance, teachers, traditions
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home