If it be your will

In W, of all places, I heard of this singer: Antony and the Johnsons. The photo shown in W and the opening line of the article had me curious instantly. Yeah for YouTube and the interwebs, I was able to find and listen to his music on the spot. (I’m hooked!) Now, while I don’t know the exquisite details of Antony’s biology or chromosonal make-up, my guess is Antony is a hermaphrodite. Talk about taking the gift of life and making it an exquisite prayer of gratitude and development!

Sing, Antony, sing! Here’s Antony and the Johnsons singing, “If it be your will.”

And Leonard Cohen, singing his version.

Unadulterated and basic, please

I have Bangkok on the mind. Last night I had dinner with my dad at Bangkok Gardens in Oakland Mills. And earlier in the  day, I’d decided to buy my second-ever iTunes song: One Night in Bangkok. I think it’ll be a great hooping song, and, who knows, perhaps it’ll show up in a future chicken cam video I make.

So, I traipsed on over to iTunes this morning to buy — for real — my second-ever iTunes song. Alas, there are 50 versions of the song available, many of them dance tracks. I know the artist. I know the length of the song via Wikipedia, but I can’t figure out which of the songs is the unadulterated, basic version that so graced the radio waves back in the day and had me car dancing again and again. I wish there was some sort of big red arrow — heck, I’d settle for a little yellow arrow — pointing out the original song. If such things exist and I’m simply clueless about the ways of iTunes, would you be a doll and let me know?

Mama!

The Muppets (a Silent Gen creation originally developed to help GenX children learn the challenges of adulthood) have their groove on with a slew of new music videos. On November 23, 2009, the Muppets folk posted to YouTube this video. As of December 8th, (15 days later) the video has been viewed 9,722,185 times and has received 46,470 ratings. And 5-star ratings, no less.

One of the reasons for the viral success of this video– I offer — is that this particular song, Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, is part of the first-wave GenXer childhood. As such, the first wave of GenXers are crossing over into midlife. And while people can have nostalgia for a time past, a generation doesn’t really experience nostalgia for a life-phase until it’s far enough away from it. For the new-to-midlife GenXers, they’ve passed through childhood, young adulthood and are now, not only, experiencing nostalgia for their childhood but are the primary generation of parents in America. So, the resonance of this song,

… for their own childhood nostalgia,

… combined with the Muppets (another point of nostalgia, with Muppets being a stronger memory for GenX than Millennials),

… plus many GenX being parents themselves now, makes this video or rock stars gone by an absolute success! Both with GenX parents and with kids.

Enjoy!

Oh, and this video was sent to me by my sister and one with whom I watched many a Muppet show during our ever-so-GenX latchkey children days.

At first, it creeped me out …

And, it still takes me a bit of recalibration each time it happens. See, I was just at an annual Zydeco dance I like to attend. It’s called Buffalo Jambalya, and folk come from near and far to attend. I like Zydeco dancing a lot. One time when I was up in Rhode Island at a rockin’ festival — Rhythm & Roots — a dancer asked me if I was from the D.C. area. “Yes,” I answered him. “Why do you ask?” He told me he recognized my style of dancing as being that of the Balt-DC area. Interesting, I thought. We kept talking. Then he told me he who used to live in the Philly area and that Philly dancers dance very, very close to each other. I’ve danced with a few at that festival, and can testify he’s not joking!

So today, when this one gentleman asked me to dance and pulled me real close — real close, real fast — then hijacked my knee between his,  rather than getting kinda creeped out, I said to him, “Hey, are you from Philly?” He was. So, I relaxed into his style of dancing. And had a blast, both dancing Zydeco and enjoying a different flavor of the dance I like so much.

Here’s one of the bands that played: Feufollet, some lovely Cajun music by a young band of musicians.

Her special day … and theirs

This vid, the JK Wedding Entrance Dance, is flying around. One way this video came to me is through LTC Gregory R. Mogavero, a friend and someone who feeds me some interesting generational observations and cultural fodder.

My sense, generationally, is it’s early-wave Millennials getting married, and here’s why. It’s a group activity. It’s coordinated. Orchestrated. Upbeat. Celebratory. Peer-oriented.  Dancing at parties, and even group dancing, such as The Thriller wedding dancers (bel0w) is not the sole terrain of Millennials, by any means. But the JK Wedding has a particular flair and quality to it that’s much more Millennial (team-oriented) than GenX (edgy and isolated).

The bride — whose special day the wedding technically is — plays a rather small role in this whole entrance event. It’s the collective, the team effort, the smiling faces of the whole group of them, that are most memorable and compelling.

Thrill the World

Thrill the World. From my friend, Brooke:

On Friday, July 17 at 7:30pm, Joe’s Movement Emporium in Mt. Rainier is holding its inaugural dance class to teach anyone 8 and older the iconic Michael Jackson “Thriller” Dance!

This class is FREE!  ALL AGES ARE WELCOME.  This class is approximately 2 hours long and should be a blast. Please RSVP to here.

Joe’s will be teaching as many students the “Thriller” dance as possible this summer in preparation for the annual worldwide simultaneous dance of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”, which will be held on Sat. Oct. 24, 2009, 8:30pm ET.  All official Thrill the World events will be included in the numbers for setting and breaking World Records.

Please send this to all the dance and Michael Jackson fans out there!

Thank you,

Brooke Kidd
“Zombie Brooke”
Joe’s Movement Emporium
Mount Rainier, MD 20712

Not to be missed: a “community” rendition of Thriller.

I gazed at him lovingly every day

When I was eight years old, I got my first-ever album. It was by The Jackson Five. Inside, there was a paper sleeve protecting the record. And on this sleeve was printed many fan items for purchase. The heart-shaped stickers with Michael Jackson’s photo in the center I pined for, day in and day out.

I would spend hours looking at the album and the fan items for purchase. It was too complex a process for my eight-year-old self to buy a sticker. And my parents wouldn’t have understood my desire, or thought it charming. This was another era: the beginning of the GenX era of childhood. Millennials, you’ll never understand in any meaningful way … and that’s ok.

My young tweenager’s heart would envision scenario upon scenario of how Michael and I would meet. How he would fall in love with me. And how he would choose me as his true love among all the other girls who loved him. I knew it was our destiny, and I spent much time seeing how it would happen.

I’ve grown up with his music. Watched him struggle. Do strange things. Always caring for him, even in his oddities. Even feeling sadness for his possible/probable pedophilia and how he wasn’t born that way, but made that way by … by who knows what combination of events/people/happenings.

And today, when hearing of his heart failure, my heart hurt for a moment. Deep. While I don’t know the circumstances or (possibly gory) details to emerge around his death, it felt right to me that his heart would give out. Has he known love? To give? To receive? To allow? To forgive? It seems logical and right that his heart would be weak in spirit and in soul.

The radio and twitter were my first feeds on the news, with twitter bringing links of the confirmed death. This evening, I turned on the TV to celebrate his life. Channel after channel of the same story. Lurid. Loving. Tragedy. Gossip. Up. Down. He was great. He was odd.

I already know all that.

I just wanted to listen to his music. Watch his videos. Marvel. Remember. And love him now, as I have always. As someone whose expression of self touched me inside and opened me up. These two videos are from his earlier days. I enjoyed watching them again tonight and share them that you might, too.

Ben

Rockin Robin

They called me Martha.

Last night, I found myself at the Baltimore Gay Pride street party. It was after a long day indoors at Baltimore Barcamp and a nice after-party at Brewer’s Art. My BFF and I, dressed alike, as we often find ourselves in some mysterious sort of way, were headed out of Baltimore and back to the ‘burbs on a Saturday evening when we saw the street party.

“Hey, let’s stop by. They’ve got a DJ and some dancing. Let’s check it out,” I offered. Adventurous and curious despite her Suburban veneer, my BFF said, “Yeah, let’s.” (Or something like that … I’m just condensing for story-telling sake.)

We got a most-excellent, if not on-the-edge-of-illegal, parking spot and headed on over. It was nice. Heavily Baltimore with its blue-collar roots and deep urban feel, but a sweet event in any case. I’m sure my BFF and I were causing our own degree of curiosity, with our matchy-matchy outfits, our big suburban handbags and our “They sure don’t look gay” vibe.

Several hours later, as we starting heading back to my car, a guy asked me, “Hey, are you going to dance in the street at the red light? Lots of people run out and dance before the stopped cars.”

Hah. Daughter of Eileen and Jim Newburn, dancers from the day they met til now, I said, “Sure,” and promptly headed out into the street.

I can’t say exactly what happened next. I only have my experience plus the story-telling of those who witnessed it, but apparently my  appearance in the street caused a rapid and mass convergence, wherein in I was in the center of the group, dancing with a young woman who beelined her way to me. We danced, she and I, with a charged group dancing and shouting around us.

As the light turned green and our insta-dance party broke up, I heard a lot of good-hearted laughter. And then I heard this: “She’s like Martha Stewart.” Then it echoed, and I kept hearing murmurs of “Martha.” Even “Hilary.”

There are times when I’m reminded of how suburban and middle-aged I am, and this was one of those moments. I like to think of myself how I feel: young, curious, a little cool/hip/chic. Alas, the Baltimore Gay Pride street dancers saw me in a different light: They called me Martha.

Social media sizzle in the burbs

For all my moaning and groaning about the burbs (and, yes, there’s plenty to moan about), I do believe social media is the magic bit that can liven life in the ‘burbs up a bit. These past 48 hours have been testament to this elusive vision I’ve believed in for several years.

Yesterday morning, I posted a note in my Facebook profile that I was hoping to find a friend in my network who liked Leonard Cohen and was going to the concert at Merriweather later in the evening. I wanted to get a ticket and tag along with someone to the concert. Here’s what happened: a friend very generously contacted me in Facebook, telling me he had three VIP tickets to the concert, including two numbered VIP parking spaces. If you know Vince Sharps of Graphic Press in Columbia, you probably won’t be surprised by his generosity; he gave me the tickets! I just love Leonard Cohen’s music and had never seen him perform live until last night. What a treat.

Then, this evening, meeting a friend after work with no major plans other than mutual intuition to get together, I scanned my twitter stream while we were wondering what we might want to do. My twitter stream told me @chrisbachmann was at the #dobbin *$ with @stevefisher. Code language for, “Hey, Chris and Steve are at the Dobbin Starbucks … and they just tweeted about 20 minutes ago so they’re probably still there!” We were just across the street, so we drove over, popped in our friends and decided to then walk over to Qdoba for dinner and yucking it up.

Yahoo for connecting with friends with ease via social media. Lovin’ it.

Some Leonard Cohen for fans and newbies, alike.

Last night, I was introduced to Snowball

Have you met, seen, heard of Snowball? I was introduced just last night. Snowball is an adolescent rescue bird that takes center stage in the Dancing Bird World. Snowball actually dances, does routines and special moves, and even syncopates. Why would I be surprised then to discover he knows when his favorite songs are coming to a close and shifts his dancing, in time. Then, he bows at the end.

I find him a delight to watch, and I’d like to introduce you to him. Here he is rockin’ to The Backstreet Boys’ song, Everybody.

Update: Snowball and his dancing are highlighted in this week’s edition of The Economist.

Probably not what you envision when you think of hula hooping

Brilliant GenX + Millennial Statement

My sister sent me this vid. It’s a seemingly spontaneous performance inside an Belgian train station. It’s 4:01-min in length, and, I believe, a brilliant example of GenX plus Millennial natural energies.

What I see, through a gen lens: GenXers understand small spaces, gaps and making-do with existing resources/repurposing, in a way far exceeding their next-elder and next-younger gens. The performance in this vid is in a train station: an existing resource that is repurposed for another use. Very, very little cost associated with pulling this feat off.

GenXers archetypally are generals, can-do pragmatic, nimble small teams that take care of details, details, details. Little need for glory; the glory comes in a job well done, and admiration of one’s gen peers. I’d bet they were the major orchestrators of this project.

Millennials archetypally are an upbeat, optimistic, collegial and *active* gen. Movement, smiles, coordination, each person doing an equally important part of a large movement. Collectively, they take/implement orders well and experience their individual and generational power by doing things with their peers. Watch the faces of the dancers, and mostly what you’ll see is GenX and early-to-mid-Millennials.

If I had to guess, I’d say a Boomer birthed the idea by speaking to a moral principle. They may not have said, “Hey, we should have a big public dance in the middle of the train station,” but they may well have said something such as, “We need more laughter and joy in public places.” Just guessing, through the gen lens.

Enough for today. Back outside to the sunshine, blue skies and greeeeen grass.

Baxter

This man with a hoop is a site to behold. One of the more distinct and inspiring hoopers I’ve yet to meet: Baxter of the Hoop Path in NC.

Brecken

This girl can hoop. She’s local to Baltimore and one of the most inspiring hoopers I’ve ever known.

Hula hoops for sale in Takoma Park

I found a place that sells hand-made, adult hula hoop locally. It’s fair Day’s Play on main street (Carroll Avenue) in Takoma Park. Call them at 301-270-7999. Email.

I feel a little sad.

A tradition with a nice vibe ended this evening. For the past two years or so, most Wednesday nights, I’ve carpooled to Baltimore for a contra dance held at Lovely Lane Church. For most of this time, I’ve carpooled with my mother and a long-time dancer my mother’s age, Jo. The three of us would gather and talk on the way up and the way back. Now, while I like the contra dance in DC much more, I often have to drive there myself. And I’ve noticed that over time, that if I have to choose one night a week to dance, my preference has been the Wednesday night dance and the social aspect of the carpool.

Jo and her husband decided to move out of Columbia and live their retirement years in St. Petersburg, Florida. She did check out the contra dance scene before selecting the town in which they’d soon live. But, on my end of things, tonight was the last night we’d all carpool down together. And I feel a little sad. It’d probably be an over-statement to say I’m good friends with her. But I like her. And I like what we shared: a tradition, an agreement, some time together at regular intervals.

I wish her the best, of course. And hope she finds lots of good dancers and interesting people in St. Petersburg, but I’m really going to miss her and the weekly carpool rides we shared.

Tiesto was here.

And I missed him. Love-struck as I am by the music he makes and how much I am called to dance to it, me brudder and me sister were in town from far, far away. And they trump just about anything else. In case you have yet to feel the love of the internationally ranked #1 DJ …

(I can’t find a good link to the event. To track him in DC, follow Ibiza Night Club, Love, etc.)

That’s soooo sweet!

Last night at the Baltimore contra dance, I noticed two young teens dancing as a couple. At first I just assumed they were brother and sister, as they looked comfortable together. Then, while dancing in a set with them, I witnessed something that quickly corrected my perception: The young man, at the most opportune moment, took his partner’s hand and gave it a gentle kiss … all while executing the dance move fluidly. The young girl, in the most classic and feminine of gestures, lowered her eyes, tilted her head slightly downward and smiled demurely in receipt of his gift.

It was soooo sweet to witness and enjoy that small moment between them.

A Romanian love song.

A Romanian love song. Sung by three-year-old Cleopatra Stratan. Ghita. Love it! I love the internet, viewer comments, online publishing sites, tags … the whole works. If you find yourself charmed by the singer, song and video style, here’s another to watch.

My new ears.

I took a break from working, mid-day today. Officially, it might have looked like procrastination, as I was facing a big, deep-thinking project, but I knew that I needed to do something other than sit at my computer What a great time to start my new Samurai Hooper practice. So off I went, outside, iPod and portable speaker in one hand; blindfold and hula hoop in the other. Once blindfolded, I started to do some of the new hoop practices I’d learned this past weekend.

Now, I live in a pleasant and quiet suburban spot and it can be astounding at times how quiet the neighborhood is, especially given how many houses are in our little cul-de-sac upon cul-de-sac world. But, the minute I put my blindfold on, I suddenly started to hear sounds all over. Sounds to the left of me. Behind me. Down the street a bit and far in the distance. It was wild to notice how quickly my brain compensated for the intentional and temporary removal of sight as a sense.

I also noticed that I became even more expressive, fluid and confident in my moves. I found that interesting. And really fun. Can’t wait to try it again soon.

Regarding my project, I still did procrastinate, but that had more to do with the fact that I don’t have an externally imposed deadline. Ugh. The power and pressure of a deadline to evoke creative and intelligent work in short order. Well, I gave myself a deadline, and just finished the first phase of the project just in the last hour. Phew.