There are two kinds of tango scenes, two kinds of approaches to tango. The first, I’ll call The Tango-Lovers’ Country — a place where people go because they love tango specifically, because they want to hear that music, dance to the best of their ability, aware that tango is a constant challenge for everyone and find bliss on the dance floor with the specific partners they enjoy and freely choose. That is my natural habitat. But one memorable almost tanda-less night, I was at the other kind of scene, what I’ll call The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
How do you know when you have crossed the border into that other country? How do know if you are a denizen? Well, in case you need a travel guide, here’s a brief list of identifying characteristics:
1. If many or most people have been dancing for at least five years and a significant proportion, perhaps the majority, have been dancing for ten or twenty, but rather than their dancing improving in that time, you have noticed a steady, relentless deterioration. If there is actually a consistent inverse relationship between how long people have been dancing and how well they dance, you probably live in The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
2. If you are often struck by how many different ways the human body has of moving, how many ways you can walk anticlockwise around a dance floor — scurrying, bouncing, hobbling, staggering, lurching, shuffling, trudging, prancing. If observing the dancing reminds you of looking at a sample of pond water under a microscope: it’s swarming with a strange and beautiful kaleidoscope of creatures, moving in random directions with a rich variety of means of locomotion. If you often reflect on how much more unnatural and unhealthy tango movement seems than normal movement, if you are struck by the way in which a person who moves with perfect ease in everyday life can be transformed into a shuffle-footed geriatric who looks as though they need a zimmerframe as soon as they get on the dance floor, you probably live in The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
3. If most people you dance with either clutch at your arms and hold you out away from them as though you had a contagious disease or, alternatively, squeeze you with a grip that would put Xenia Onatopp to shame. If your doctor, chiropractor or Alexander technique instructor has begged you to give up tango for the sake of your health, you probably live in The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
4. If there are more women than men and the men approach the women with confidence to ask them to dance, knowing that they will never be declined. If it’s considered rude or snobby to be choosy about who you dance with. If men react with surprise or disgruntlement at a polite “no, thanks”. If you feel you will be socially ostracised if you decline too many dances. If even that guy, you know — the one who smells of fag ash, McEwan’s Export and a football player’s laundry basket and who almost dislocates your cervical vertebrae with his embrace — if even that guy gets plenty of dances, you probably inhabit The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
5. If people care little about the music. If they will get up and dance with the same timing and the same steps whether the DJ plays the fastest D’Arienzos or the serenest Canaros. If they mistake the DJ’s cortina “Nature Sounds for Meditation: Track 2, Birdsong and Early Morning Rain” for a tango and stride valiantly through it with the aid of those inner metronomes which never fail them, marking constant time no matter what is playing, you are probably in The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
6. If many of the older men enjoy dancing with beginner women and like to give them many helpful pointers about their dance. If being out on the floor with some of the guys feels like being in the arms of a Svengali who gives a running commentary faster than a Wimbledon commentator during an exciting rally (“that’s it, put your foot there, now do a back ocho, pivot there, now change weight”), you probably live in The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
6. If you frequently hear “Tango’s just a good laugh, isn’t it?” “I like this place because it’s really friendly and sometimes Maureen brings her famous flapjacks for everyone — yum.” “I don’t understand why people get so stuck-up about it.” “The only way you’ll get better is by getting out on the dance floor lots and getting better dancers to dance with you.” “If you have the right attitude, you can enjoy dancing with absolutely anyone.” “We’re all just here to be sociable, have a bit of fun and have a great evening, aren’t we?” “I will dance with anyone and everyone, I’m just happy to dance.” “Why won’t she dance with us? Does she think she is too good for us? What a snob!” “His dancing is almost unbearable, but it’s hard to say no to him, isn’t it? It might hurt his feelings.” Well, then, you probably live in The Land of the Long-Term Beginner.
There is nothing wrong, as such, with The Land of the Long-Term Beginner. But it’s not my country. I am a foreigner there and whenever I visit I cannot conquer my culture shock, I cannot recover from my jet lag. So, if this is your native land, please understand if I might choose not to do much sightseeing. I wish you joy of it, but it’s not for me.
Note: This post first appeared in Sugar Mountain Land. I’m reposting it here for my WordPress readers.
