The music dictates...

A few years ago, I always wondered, that after years of learning technique I found my tango still wanting. My dances ended with a feeling of "Coldness." I looked and searched for the reason. I found it in the most ubiquitous and permeating elements of tango... The Music


A boring dancer was I
I had a vast repertoire of steps and patterns. I knew how to lead. I knew where to place my weight, I knew where her weight was. I was not lacking of things to do. Despite all of this, I could not get over the feeling that when the tanda was over, I was not fulfilled. Because, I did not see my partners totally happy. It looked as though they had just finished a very long tedious activity. It dawned on me—Despite of what I thought of good technique, I was monotonously boring!

Being a former ballroom dancer, we went through drills and exercises to the point that we could do dance moves without the music. The thinking was that we could dance to anything. To a non-ballroom dancer, this would seem a bit absurd. But, In ballroom dancing's defense, a lot of it has to do with technical perfection. This was a training technique to be ultimately competitive.


A total change in perspective
In order to make my dancing more "enjoyable," I did a data-dump of my previous learning techniques. I changed my perspective to focus on tango,  and just tango.

I embraced the techniques native to tango, it's dynamics, it's nuances. I listened to the music. I got over the Tango technique part quite well with lots of patience and perseverance. The music however, was a different problem to handle. I couldn't get over the "Old" feel of the music, no percussion, sometimes, the singing voice I found distracting. I kept at it as I accepted the fact that if I need to be proficient in tango, I need to appreciate tango music to dance to it.


My tango music epiphany
This was a major turning point for me.

Despite my self-confidence in leading and passable tango technique, I still felt like I wasn't dancing. Rather, I was simply "shuffling" across the milonga floor. One day, I found the answer. I internalized the music! It made a world of difference. Allow me to explain...

The music dictates
The answer was simple. As I danced, I listened to the music and channeled the mood of the music through my dance. So, if the music was slow, I dance slow. If I the music was fast, I danced fast. If the music changed pace, so did I. It if were an intense piece, say, a Pugliese, my tango was intense and passionate. If the music was sweet, like Canaro's Poema, my dancing reflected the loving embrace for my partner—I matched my mood and movement to the music.


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I've found my tango now to be much improved. After this small improvement, I no longer leave my partners with a glazed look. They leave me with a smile, and my heart sings.


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Volcano Tango

Mrs. Ampster and I went on a 10 mile hike up to Coldwater Peak. A mountain within the Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument, and directly in the blast zone of Mount St. Helens.

To celebrate our summit, we danced a Tango on uneven volcanic ash in-between two trees that were instantly scorched and knocked down when Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980.

P.S. If anyone is wondering what I'm wearing, I hike (and dance) in a Seattle Utilikilt (it's a Seattle thing).

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Mountain Tango

June 2, 2011 was a particularly beautiful day. Mrs. Ampster and I decided to do a day-hike to the summit of Tiger Mountain (WA).

We found ourselves atop the summit. The sky was clear with visibility unlimited. We could see cities in the distance surrounded by the evergreen forests of Western Washington surrounded by the magnificent Cascades Mountain range.

The day was warm and the breeze cool. The sun was beginning to set and the subdued hues from horizon to horizon created a beautiful burst of inspiration—A Mountain Tango!

My perfect tango partner

It was in a Valentine's day party, 23 years ago that I met this cute girl. It was 1988.

Her ensemble was a huge lace ribbon on her heavily curled long hair. She wore winged way-farer gold Ray-Ban's, low socks with fuzzy pom-poms. She spoke in happy tones. She was vibrant, smart, sometimes cynical, sometimes funny. She was complicated, yet easily understood. Her perfume filled the air with a sweet scent. I was smitten. I was in love.

23 years passed and it has had its complications, challenges, and irritations. The struggle of life took hold as every young couple embarks on the great tango adventure called life. There were highs and lows. But, amidst it all, there were was a happines that made life all so worth living.

Like a great tango, Mrs. Ampster has been my perfect tango partner. Through good and bad tandas and milongas alike. I thank her, and grateful to God to have blessed me with my perfect tango partner. After all, without a tango partner, I'm just a crazy guy going through the motions of life (and dancing)

I love you Mrs. Ampster, and here's to many, many more decades of going through the great milonga of life, called the Tango.


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A superb start, the middle muddle, a finish with flair

My tango does not proceed on one monotonous pattern of rhythm throughout the song. Rather, like a dialogue with my partner, my tango has a distinct opening phrase, a body of content, and a distinct ending...


A superb start
This is the part where I make initial connection with my partner. I try my best to settle within her comfort zone. I establish her trust. I "Dial in" my dancing to compliment hers. I begin listen to the music, it's rhythm, it's beat, and it's phrasing.

I meld the music to my partner. I don't rush. I wait. I time my opening to the music, and give my partner clear non-verbal signals to get ready. When the time is right, I begin to lead.

I don't initiate the start of the tango with some fancy pattern. Rather, I consider something as simple as a side step, delivered clear and simple as a superb start. I am asking my partner, "Shall we dance?"

The middle muddle
This is the main, longest, and most intricate part of the conversation with my partner. It follows the ups, downs, and rhythmic changes of the music. To this, my tango shifts, adapts, changes and morphs. I lead my tango in a balance of movement to the music, and a "give and take" between my partner and I.

Sometimes the interaction works, sometimes it doesn't. I compensate, compromise, adapt and modify my lead in order to make the conversation work. My objective is to give her a beautiful tango experience.

A finish with a flair
As in life, every tango conversation has to end—sometime. I've tried to make a good start. I've been doing my best to lead and sustain a smooth, coherent, and pleasurable body of content, that is, the middle conversation.

Now the time has come to end this (conversation) in a way that compliments the events preceding. Just moving without regard to the ending makes for a "blah" experience (I think).

There is the one last note in (most) every tango song. I like to think that hitting the last note is a very good ending to a tango. By blending everything together to hit that one last note IS...  an ending with a flair.



As I write this, I link to several of my older posts for reference. I find that the more I know, the more lessons I draw from older lessons learned. Composing my tango in phases works for me. I hope that by doing so, it also works for my tango partner.

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Drapes and Rods

There is an old ballroom cliché that says, "You are the frame, the woman is the picture. Whatever you do is to make her look good." 


Now that I dance Tango exclusively, I still keep that to heart, with my own tango appropriate modification. Frames and pictures, connotes something beautiful, yet static. Something to ogle at as it stands stoically for all to see.

I would much rather think of the tango relationship as Drapes and Rods...

The Rod
I am the rod, complete with finials and sconces. Alone, I am just a fancy piece of wrought iron metal hanging over the grand entrance. Without my partner, I'm just there with no visible purpose.

The Drapes
The lady is the drape. She is the beautiful fabric of which those who see will marvel at her stunning beauty. Without the curtain rod, the fabric lays flat and unappreciated

The Dance
My point is that, separately, we are simply props laying around. There is no chemistry, no movement, no mastery. Apart, we are nothing.

Together, awash in the music of the bandoneon, dancing a la milonguero... magic happens.

I am the rod that holds up the drape. She is the magnificent cascading delicate fabric. It is my job to move her. My motion creates the movement that catches and moves her upon the breeze. It is her job to float and flow with me upon the breeze. Together, we become the music.

It is my job to make her flow. It is my job to make her move. It is my job to make her beautiful. It is our job to compliment each other—Like Drapes and Rods.



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"Landing" her first

One of the most significant learning experiences I've ever had (in tango) was knowing when my partner has landed her weight BEFORE I lead something else. It makes for a better, smoother dance...


A leader in learning
I remember the time when I was first learning to lead in tango. Woe to my partners at the time as I was very consistent—In knocking them off their axis. I would go from move to move and it seemed that they could never keep up with me, nor keep their balance.

Much to my chagrin, their awkward debacles were my fault! Later in my (tango) learning process, I realized that I kept knocking them off their axis because of two things. First, I was impatient. Second, I was impatient because I didn't know if my partners had finished shifting their weight or not.

I had made the mistaken assumption that my partners knew what to do. What I should have done was to learn how to lead properly.


A major epiphany–Shifting weights
My epiphany lay in the fact that in order (for me) to go from lead to lead, I had to get the timing right—I needed a signal.

I figured out that the signal I needed was to know when she "landed" her weight. That's when my partner has completed her movement. This, I needed to know before I lead my next thing.

Our chests are connected to our feet
This is one technique I use to know where my partner's weight is. Since I dance exclusively in close embrace, I used our chest-to-chest connection as a telegraph by concentrating deeply and feeling her movements.

I find it difficult to explain all the nuances, but here is my rule of thumb. There are three movements after I initiate a lead. First—she answers my lead by responding to it. Second—She follows my center, then returns to align with it. Third—(My epiphany) I feel her feet touch down, then, she settles and her whole weight "lands" on her leg.

That moment is the moment I know that she's ready. It's the signal I was looking for! It's the (only) time for me to lead something else without knocking her over!




In tango, many simple things make so big a difference. This is just one of those examples. That single learning experience of knowing when my partner lands her weight made all the difference from attempting a judo takedown to a smooth giro.




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Every time I dance, I take a chance

Every time I go up to a lady to ask for a dance, either directly or via cabeceo, a little voice in the back of my head raises alarm bells... I am taking a chance!

The (main) chances I take

• A chance of rejection

There is always a chance of being turned down. I am not a rock star that women would fall over each other to dance with (it would be nice). I am just another ex-Tango Zombie, who really likes to dance. My point is, I'm not guaranteed a dance every time

• A chance of nervousness

I am not always as confident as I think I am. When I realize that I'm not as ready as I thought I was, I get so nervous and my tango blows up. It goes from a promise of a blissful tanda, to a long arduous ordeal for my partner

• The chance of having a "brain fart"

I've been doing tango for a while now. Every now and then, I find myself just not remembering, not knowing, not doing whatever it was I was trying to lead. Alzheimer's perhaps? Too many knock on my head in my youth? It's a "Brain fart!"

• The chance of asking an inept follow

When dancing with strangers, every now and then, I chance upon a inept follow. It is seldom, but when it happens, I will finish the tanda and be the best lead I can and give her the best dance I can give her. It would not be a good tanda for me, but I hope it will be good for her.

• The chance of being a bad lead

The inverse of the preceding. I try to be as best a lead as I can be. However, on occasion, I'm "out of it," I'm "not into it," or, worse I can be having a "brain fart" night. If I'm a bad lead it's inexcusable as I would give my partner a bad dance

• A bunch of other hang-ups

The preceding are the major stuff that worries me when I take a lady to the dance floor. There are is a myriad of other stuff that sometimes befuddle me. Things seemingly so trivial as " 'Is my cologne too much?' 'Do my clothes match?' 'Are my boots shined?' 'Is there too much stuff in my pockets? Etc, etc, etc.

All of these all play in my head when I ask a lady to dance. So much can go so wrong so fast that it is in fact, taking a chance.

Why I STILL take the chance to dance 
Getting over hang-ups (in tango) is like taking a leap of faith. I find that the magic that happens when one dances tango is an overwhelming reason to brave the minefield of misgiving in one's own mind. As much as I like to dance, it is important that I face the risks of asking (and getting) to dance a tanda of tango. Otherwise, I'd be sitting out the night, moping in a corner.

While it is true that every time I dance, I take a chance... It is even much truer that in order to dance I MUST take the chance.

Someone asked me to teach tango

A non-tango colleague of mine, quite insistently, asked me to teach her tango. Maybe even start a tango club at work. I graciously said no and gave my reasons. My colleague seemed baffled at my answer. I just ended up saying that I couldn't teach.

I guess, trying to address my true reasons were something only tango people would truly understand—I think...



Don't want to teach steps
I can (probably) teach different levels of steps, mechanical techniques, come up with patterns, and develop really deep tango concepts. However, I'm not inclined to go down this road because I have not the time nor the patience for such an endeavor. As a friend of mine once said, "As far as tango goes, I'm a consumer, not a producer."

The real reason I don't want to teach
The real reason I truly do not want to teach is this—I cannot teach anyone to express themselves with their own souls. I can teach my expression from MY soul. Having someone trying to adopt my interpretation  will end up with someone trying to emulate myself. What I would want to happen is for everyone is to create a distinctive "you." I do not know enough to inspire someone to activate and express their own brand of tango from deep within.


When the time comes when I figure out how to inspire people to develop their own tango expression, maybe I'll consider teaching tango, but, not until then.

Heartbeats

There is something in tango that is absolutely unique and beautiful. They are heartbeats...

Only in tango have I experienced the deepest connections with my dance partner. This, none more so manifested by heartbeats. In between dances during the tanda, there is that few seconds before each dance begins.

When the first bars of the music fills the air, it permeates my senses. I feel the music. I feel my partner. I breathe slowly and deeply while listening to the music. I listen to her. Then... There it is!

I feel my heart thumping, as if to the beat. In between heartbeats, I feel another set... Her own heart beating.

In this one fleeting moment (spanning a mere second or two) is the real beginning of "The tango experience." It is when I feel hearts and the music in harmonious synchronization is when our dance begins.

It is a connection of souls. It is one conversation without words. It is warm, comforting, real, and simply human. It is a beautiful thing.

Dialing in—to different heights

I once wrote about "Dialing in." I talked about adapting my dancing to match the dance capabilities of my particular partner (at the moment), in order to make the tango magic happen.

One of the challenges I've come across over and over again is dancing with partners of different heights. I like to dance a lot, and to limit myself with picking only partners who were of the same height, limited my tango time.

Furthermore, I see women sitting out most of the night regardless of them being beautiful dancers. I asked my veteran colleagues why this was. Their common answer:  "Because, they are (either) too tall, (or) too short.

I used to dance in open embrace. Height was not much of a problem. Since becoming a close embrace dancer, I was intrigued as the dynamics were vastly different. I experimented on the milonga floor for the next couple of years leading to some very "interesting" discoveries and results...



I. The challenge of varying heights

• My ideal height range

Dancing close embrace, I found that a height difference of +/- 4 inches equaled my ideal height range. At this level, our bodies are hinged very similarly, allowing for dynamic movement. I could easily dance close embrace—apilado style. That is, with a deep lean, sharing a common axis with my partner. This is where the both of us would form a dance posture resembling the letter "A." Walks, turns, or any movement in tango is relatively easy.

• My reality of  dancing with a partner who is too short

Dancing apilado style with a partner who was significantly (a head) shorter than I would cause my weight to lay on them. This would cause her to be most uncomfortable. Leading anything would be difficult as the pressure would be downward as opposed to forward.

I tried couching lower, but that just made my knees ache. I tried bending forward at the waist, but that made my bust stick out. In any case, a "Thank you" from any of my partners would be quite apropos at any point—I know this from first hand experience.

• My reality of  dancing with a partner who is too tall

Trying to dance with a partner with a lean is like a defensive line-man executing a tackle. My center of gravity would be lower, and my shoulders chest, and head would drive into her upper chest, pushing her off her axis. This was tango. Not tackle football. 


Trying to lead would be awkward, as she is trying to stay upright and not get knocked over. I even tried to dance on my tip-toes. But, that just caused my leading to become vague and ambiguous as I was no longer grounded. 

Besides, NONE of this looked any good. The word "Goofy" came to mind. 




II. Lessons that work

• Too short, try a torso lead

Something I learned from Patricio and Eva Touceda: If your partner is too short, stand up straight, always maintain your axis, and offer her your torso for leading!

That is, if her head only goes up to my chest, I extend my leading to my torso. That way, when I move my chest, I move my torso along with it. This is where my shorter follower would get her leads.

I tried it, and it works! It also has the side benefit of helping develop my core—which I am in dire need of...

• Too tall, stand up straight and develop your giros

I stand up straight and ground myself, chest out, and lead with purpose. I maintain my own axis. By doing this, I find that leading becomes easier, as I do not have to compensate where the body hinges. I concentrate on where my (taller) partner's weight and axis are, and use that to time where and what I lead.

Leading a taller partner has an added challenge... My forward vision is majorly impaired.

With a taller partner, her chin would touch my temple. I can only see forward with my left eye. My right eye would be blocked by her neck, making me totally blind-sided on the right. To address this, I learned to develop my giros (i.e. stationary turns) to the left and to the right. That way, I turn either left or right before I move forward. It allows me to see, and helps make my dancing flow better.


I did this because I love dancing tango. By learning how to dance with either short or tall partners, I'm able to diversify, both to my, and my partners' benefit.



P.S. To my past partners, both short and tall, whom I've inflicted my past ineptitude... I sincerely apologize.

The dreaded... MILONGA!

Milonga (place): A term for a place or an event where tango is danced.

Milonga (dance genre): Also refer to a musical genre. The song was set to a lively 2/4 tempo, and often included musical improvisation.. Despite 2/4 formula, rhythm is irregular. It is syncopated, consisting of 8 beats with accents on the 1st, (sometimes also 2nd) 4th, 5th, and 7th beats.

Regular 2/4 rhythm:  [1]  2  3  4  [5]  6  7  8  

   

Milonga rhythm:  [1]  2  3  [4]  [5]  6  [7]  8, sometimes also [1]  [2]  3  [4]  [5]  6  [7]  8   or   3  3  2  [1]  2  3  [4]  5  6  [7]  8
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If you watch the milonga floors (in Seattle), you'll notice that once a milonga tanda starts playing, the floor opens up. Why? A lot of people do not dance milonga. The single most common reason? "I'm not too good at milonga."

The milonga was MY nemesis for the longest time. It was the dance that made me feel uncoordinated, clunky, and clumsy. Attempting to dance a milonga made me feel so inadequate. In an attempt to cope, I researched the milonga from a historical and technical standpoint. None of my research helped.

Realizing this inadequacy, I decided to do something about it.


My milonga pitfalls
I decided to do some introspection and figure out what it was that made my milonga dancing "Blow up." I postulated that, knowing my faults, I would know how to address them.

• Trouble with milonga music
• The primary hurdle. I did not get milonga music. It was obvious that it was fast. What baffled me most was the pattern—There wasn't a consistent one. I couldn't tell the downbeat because the orchestra did not use a bass. Furthermore, like in tango, the rhythm would change several times during the song. Only now, it was much faster!

• Troubles with leading
• Learning to be a competent leader dancing a tango was a challenge that took at least a couple of years (for me). Learning to be a competent leader dancing a milonga was worse. It took me at least another couple of years. Because, not only did I need to navigate, lead steps, apply musicality, be in tune, etc, etc, etc... but now, dancing milonga seemed more frantic, chaotic, and frustratingly fast, fast, FAST! My milonga leading would normally disintegrate into an unrecognizable blob of shame.   

• Leading speed and tempo badly

• My musical challenge with leading a milonga lay in the fact that it was fast, and the tempo, irregular. I was used to dancing with a steady downbeat, and consistent rhythm. To my chagrin, this was not the case with the milonga

• (Really) Rough leading
• As I was not to sure of what I was doing, I would try to fake it. This lead to several embarrassing results, for which I am fully to blame. None of this made for a pleasant experience for any of my hapless partners (at the time). These occurrences happened before I started paying attention to my partners. Back then, it was all about me. 

Milonga epiphany

As in any endeavor that you spend time, effort, and money in, when it works, it becomes an enlightening and magical experience. It is therapy for a frustrated milonga heart.

• Understanding the dance
• I tried, and tried, and tried. I took classes, took advise, experimented. Nothing seemed to work. I did not get this milonga thing. One day, I attended a class that seemed to tie all the milonga concepts together.
• Muma's lesson 
• She showed up in Seattle once and I took a class. She was neither fancy, nor flashy. She only taught one thing—Milonguero style tango. The significance of her class to me was this: She used the same steps for Tango, Vals, and Milonga. The difference was HOW you delivered it. Tango had drama. Vals flowed, and Milonga was in staccato. Keeping this simple principle in mind, I realized that I could do it too

• Recognizing the music
• Now that I understood the dance, I now had to understand the music. Instead of listening for a downbeat, I listened to the top of the music—The rhythm and danced to it. It was there that I found the pauses, the stops, goes, and flows of the music. Knowing this, I learned WHEN to place my motion

• Delivery size
• It was always a problem for me to keep up with milonga music. That was, until I remembered a lesson from my ballroom days. 
• If the music is slow, feel free to step large. If the music is fast, step small. That meant, if milonga was twice as fast, I lead steps were twice as small. That way, I could keep up with the speed without having to expend excessive energy

In the end... 

I can consider myself as a passable milonga dancer. Not bad, not painful, but passable. It took so much time. It took so much effort. But in the end, my reward is the extra space that I and my partner can dance in when the milonga floor opens up when a milonga tanda starts.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that...

Here's a brief outline of how, and what I've learned from various tango teachers...

I'm no virtuoso, nor am I a protégé

I, and my tango are not products of any one teacher. Neither have I adopted the style of any single instructor. 

It took me at least two years to become decently passable as a leader. The first year was spent with my first teacher learning moves. His teachings laid the basic foundations of what was to be, "My own tango."

The next few years were spent adjusting, refining, building, and still learning. These "tweaks" came from different instructors. Each with their own areas of expertise. Each with something to contribute. Each one providing important pieces of the puzzle.

I had trouble with each of them, and it was up to me to figure out the value, internalize and mesh all of their lessons into a cohesive whole.

I am a "hybrid" tango student

Throughout the years, I have had a hodge-podge of instructors, lessons and workshops. That's A LOT to take in. Going down this road I have come away with a few lessons learned:

• I can't absorb all of what they teach

During lessons and workshops, people will ask me, "Did you get all of that?" I would give them a look of consternation and say, "No." I don't. I REALLY don't get everything I'm taught. I'm a slow learner. I just persevere through it all.

I can confidently say that I only remember 10% of each session. Afterwards, it probably takes me a month or so to make it work on the milonga floor.

• Not everything taught to me is applicable

Some of my teachers are REALLY good. I am in no way, shape, or form capable doing what they do. I can only use the lessons that I am capable of doing on my own without frustrating, aggravating, nor injuring my partner.

• Retain just the important lessons

I remember and implement only the lessons that are useful and executable, in relation to my abilities.

• Adopt their methodology, adapt it to yourself

My first teacher said, "You need to make your dance yours." A lesson that has stuck with me from the beginning. I learned from all of them, but in the end, I have to adapt their lessons into tango. It may not be perfect, nor may it be beautiful, but it gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment, as it has become part of who I am.

To all of my teachers, I am grateful. Thank you for your diligence and your patience. Without you, I would not have "My own tango."

And so my learning continues...

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My teachers and the enduring lessons I retain to this day (In chronological order):

• Sonny Newman: "Make your dance your own," Philosophies of dance, Basic techniques: caminadas, sacadas, calecitas, giros, enrosques, barridas, lapizes, Ochos, ocho cortados, dissociation, sanguchitos, walking in parallel and crossed... etc, etc, etc
• Lucianna Valle: Explanations of how tango music is phrased, musicality in tango
• Miriam Larici: How to lead with the center, confidence in leading
• Muma: Walking and turning (milonguero style), proper milonguero posture 
• Alicia Pons: Proper and effective weight distribution, management of center of gravity
• Eva Lucero and Patricio Touceda: Where to hold your balance, advanced refinements on leader's technique, refinements on walking, posture corrections
  
  
  
  
  

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Un-making a tango zombie

I was at Seattle's newest milonga one day (La Milonga) and it was great. Sitting out one tanda for a break, I watched the packed floor and a thought just hit me. My attitudes towards tango had changed (very distinctly) throughout the years.


Here's how I'd characterize it... Some people describe it as an addiction. I think mine went a bit further...


Becoming a Tango Zombie
This was my state of being, in my first couple of years of tango. it was (IMHO) and affliction, a slow, all consuming malady that overwhelmed me. My life revolved around it. Life decisions were made with tango as an ubiquitous consideration. The following were the major symptoms

• Tango Workshop addiction

There was a time when I can remember that my desire to learn tango, drove me to attend every workshop I could (possibly) go to. I went to nuevo workshops, milonguero workshops, salon workshops, show tango workshops, workshops by this expert from here, experts from there, experts from everywhere.

• Every single milonga pilgrim

I can remember a time when I was obsessed with attending every milonga and practica, schedule permitting. I had a permanent bookmark on my browser to allseattletango.com. That way, I knew where and when the next milonga and practica would be. My off-work times were spent there. My vacation days were expended there. My social life revolved around them.

• Obsession with technical over-analysis

Along with the workshops and milongas came the mindset of steps and technique. Thinking of steps and technique. Talking about steps, technique, steps, technique. Knit-picking here, criticizing there. Conversations with friends revolved around steps, technique, new steps, different technique, angle, blocking, contact points, bluh-blah, bluh-blah, bluh-blah. Did I say I over-analyzed steps and technique?

• Obsessive and/or compulsive tango hero worship

Seattle is blessed with an abundance of really great visiting tango instructors. I think that a good number of the cast of Forever Tango have taught in Seattle. And, I adored them! One in particular (I thought) danced like an angel. I have pictures, videos, posters, autographs... I was star struck! I had turned into a (pseudo) middle-aged tang-groupie!

Recovery and De-tango zombiefication
That tango zombie business lasted a good couple of years. My de-tango zombiefication did not happen instantly. Rather, recovery happened as my tango maturity grew. The following are the things that have taken me from tango zombieland and into back into the realm of the (almost) "Normal."

• Mastery of the basics

Mastering the basics (in tango) became the key to getting-over the tango workshop addiction. Everything in tango is based on the basics (i.e. walking). Then, progressively builds from there. A lot of the lessons I've learned (thus far) suddenly made sense. No longer was there a desire to attend all workshops. 

Knowing what I know now, I've become very selective and only go to those teachers whom I know will add value to my personal method of tango.

• Tango celebrity admiration, NOT adoration

Tango instructors are only human, except, they posses a skill that is unique and beautiful. Some aspire to look like them, or be like them. Boil down their technique and you see the simplicity of it all. I admire them for their dedication and expertise. I admire them for their willingness to impart their knowledge. I admire them for their sacrifice, as their profession is not an easy one.

I admire them, but I no longer see them as tango-deities. They are just like me. Someone, who has a particular unique skill, who is willing to share.

• Self-awareness and balance

This I had trouble with. I (with much effort) learned to find my center of balance. Once I knew where and how to hold myself, it greatly aided in supporting and leading my partner, while keeping her on her center of balance.

• Caring for my partner

I dance for my partner's benefit first and foremost.

• Improvisation

This is my method of stringing together everything that I've learned (thus far) to adapt to any music and partner. It changes every time, even if I use the same steps. This makes the experience fresh and new each time.

• Becoming "Me"

I gave up on being like my tango heroes. I realized that I shouldn't mimic anyone, as my tango had to be mine. Good, bad, or otherwise, it is something unique and something I had to be confident enough about. I tried, and I still keep trying.

A new dawn
I'm no longer a Tango zombie and enjoy tango much better now. I am no longer obsessed, nor does my life revolve around tango... Anymore.

It does occupy a rich and special place in my heart. I am in balance... As it should be.

The day I listened to my partner

One of the biggest turning points in my tango was the day I learned to listen to my partner. It made all the difference from just dancing to turning each tanda into an beautiful experience.


Concentrating on technical stuff
In the first year of my tango journey, I was obsessed with technical perfection. How to stand, where to put my arm, when to step, how far the stride should be, toe lead, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...

Despite my pursuit of mechanical proficiency, my tandas with my partners felt cold, uneventful, and devoid of emotion. This, despite the fact I knew my execution was correct. It was just not happening. When I try to lead something, my partner doesn't pick up on it. When I try to move, her reactions were delayed, or off.

"What was I doing wrong?" I asked myself. I sat down and postulated that if in fact what I was doing was (technically) correct, it was the transmission of what I wanted her to do was lacking.

Observation and teachers
On my quest to find out the "Why's and How's" of my conundrum, I did two things. I took classes from good teachers and I watched those on the floor whom I considered "Good."

One common thing emerged from both of them. Patience. Nothing was rushed nor forced. I asked myself, what did any of that matter?

Listening, really listening
Many milongas passed and my experimentation continued. I had problems with the patience thing. I didn't get it. Undaunted, I kept trying. I had to. The coldness of the dance still prevailed.

One particularly lovely tanda, it came to me. I GOT IT!!!

The patience thing DID matter. It offered me an opportunity to listen to my partner. I could read her, I could gauge her actions and reactions. By listening to her, I KNEW her. Knowing this, I knew how I could communicate to her.

Giving, receiving, giving... It's working
By giving her my patience, she gave me the answers I needed. This then allowed me to give to her in ways she could follow. My tango was now a two way street.

It was no longer "I'm leading and you follow." It was more like, I led a proposition, she told me her acceptance and to what degree, and it flowed from there.

 For the first time, I could see that my partner had fun dancing with me. For the first time, I felt warmth. For the first time. I felt "That Tango Connection."

That was the day I learned to listen. It was that day when tango became a beautiful experience.

Seattle tango topographies

I have read (and heard) many say that tango is like a metaphor for life. In this case, tango in Seattle took some twists and turns and evolved into (what I think), is one of the best tango communities in the world.

Beginnings

In the late eighties, tango was introduced to Seattle by Sonny Newman. He was the one who first started teaching Argentine Tango. His classes would start a core group of people who would build, influence, and expand what the Seattle tango community is today. Inspirational, vibrant, elegant, and ever evolving, albeit small.


Growing pains
As in any art form, the initial introduction of this medium produced a cadre who had a common thread—Argentine tango. However, their preferences in tango varied from the intimately close to the full blown show stuff. Like rhizomes emanating from the central root node, they branched out and created nodes of their own. The foundations of Seattle tango had "taken root."

• The styles

Imagine these tango rhizomes and nodes growing within the same root-barricaded plot. Imagine the network thriving and growing. There would be one inevitable result from this crowding... conflict.

The nuevo following flourished into a large group of dancers who emulated their heroes. They danced beautifully, showy, flashy, large, and with panáche. It was wonderful to watch.

The salon people, thanks to the very influential efforts of a small and dedicated caucus of purist, traditionalist, tango dancers, evolved into Seattle's milonguero crowd. Elegant, meditative, intimate, passionate was their hallmark.

Both of these disciplines deserve commendation as (1) it got people excited, and kept expanding the following; (2) it covered and catered to the Seattle tango demographic which spanned from teens to octogenarians. It made people happy.

• Traffic and congestion

Seattle's tango evolution can be compared to it's road and hi-way system. The community quickly outgrew its capacity to manage its volume. It resulted in (tango) grid lock.

Both styles are beautiful. Both have their place in the world. However, as the numbers of both following grew, it forced tango dancers to dance in tighter and tighter spaces. This (just like a congested freeway) caused complications.

Collisions, lane disruptions, stiletto heel impaling and slashing, toe crushing, kicking, etc. became common place. Cliques abounded. Tensions within the milongas were high between the practitioners of the divergent tango styles.

• Cultivating expertise

The burgeoning Seattle tango following provided impetus for inspired members of the tango community. They furthered the art of tango by importing big name and (quite a few) world renowned tango teachers. Not only was the Seattle tango community growing, but getting better—Much better.


Diversification
It was inevitable for diversification to happen. Having fervent nuevo and milonguero styles dancing in close proximity was complicated. The ever tightening milongas were getting in the way of everyone's fun. Something was bound to happen... and it did.

• Emergence of the nuevo (open-embrace) venue

The most common desire of the practitioners of the nuevo style tango was their need to express themselves. This necessitates space and freedom of movement. Having to dance in packed milonguero crowds caused challenges in navigation, and floor etiquette.

Dedicated nuevo organizers opened their own venues. These venues were dedicated to, managed by, and frequented by this specific crowed. It provided the appropriate space and consistency needed for this group to flourish, enjoy, and dance this energetic form of tango.

A side benefit was to provide organizers a better feel for the teachers they were importing. It also trained and developed a new crop of instructors more appropriate for this demographic. They got better.

• Bolstering the milonguero

By the nuevo crowd having their own venue, elegant and intimate milonguero dancers now had the unimpeded freedom to move in close-quarters without the fear of contact nor collision. The push now was to improve the milonguero tango standard.

Milonguero specialist teachers were imported. Floor etiquette was stressed. The result was La Garua—One of the best places to dance tango in Seattle (my personal favorite). The organizers of this marvelous milonga (in no small part) are greatly responsible for influencing Seattle's development as (IMHO) one of the best close-embrace tango communities... anywhere.


Harmony
One would think that this schism would result in a permanent rift between the open and close-embrace practitioners. On the contrary. When numbers of each crew congregate (e.g. Dance Underground, Seattle Tangomagic), each has learned to compensate for each other. This allows everyone space, etiquette, and the observance of the line of dance for everyone to enjoy. It's a peculiarly Seattle oddity.



allseattletango.com: A listing of all thing tango in Seattle

The first time I danced with a "Stranger"

When I first learned tango, it was with Mrs. Ampster. She was my permanent partner. We practiced together, we got good together, we progressed together. I was one of the fortunate ones to have had a partner who shares the same interest.

When we were still learning, we normally attended group classes where you shift partners. Ok, this was class, that was normal, I guess. This experience was my first exposure to different partners. We were all beginners learning in open embrace. No big deal.

After a few months, Mrs. Ampster and I started going to milongas. I'd like to think we were getting good. At least, Mrs. Ampster was. She was getting asked to dance a lot.

I on the other hand, I was to too terrified to ask anyone else. I think it was fear of rejection over anything else. My "fragile" ego would not survive a trouncing...

On one particularly bland milonga evening where dancing was sparse with the evening's ambience dead. A beautiful blond lady came up from behind me and asked...

"Would you like to dance with me?"

I gasped, turned around and said,

"I would love to."

What the hell am I doing!!??

This the monologue of my brain in turmoil that followed:

OMG, What the hell am I doing?

That's OK, we can make this work.

Here's my left arm. Oh good she took it

Here she comes!

Oh no, her arm just went over my shoulder, Gaaah! Close embrace!

I can't move.

These are NOT my wife's boobs!

Breathe, breathe, breeeeaaaatheee

My heart's racing. Relax, relaaaxxxx, breaaaaathe in annnnd ouuuut

When's the music going to start? Oh, it already began...

Now what!? I can feel HER breathing! She's alive!

Ok, calm down. Think of what your teacher taught you

Keep it simple, keep it simple... and, walk, walk, pause... pause... ocho aaaaand boleo

Hey, this works! Let's walk some more. Just walk, keep walking...

Listen to the music, syncopate, rhythm, follow the beat....

I'll stop talking to myself now...

Epilogue

That was the first time I had REALLY danced with a stranger. I was amazed at how well it worked. I kept it simple. After I had gotten over the initial shock, I was able to think clearly. After which, I had enough confidence in myself to just let go. It was one of the very first tango epiphanies I've had.

It was an eye opening, and magnificently liberating experience.

Dialing in...

"Dialing in" An old military term used to denote changing one's settings to adapt to unique and shifting environments enabling one to hit the target. 

One of THE most difficult things I have ever had to learn to do in tango is to "Dial in" my partner. It was an excruciating exercise in patience and adaptation. I pushed through that because of my target... A good tanda, and my tango partner's joy.

Nothing but steps...

When I began learning tango, I was under the impression that it was all about steps and figures. A common beginner's mistake. I had to be able to do a gancho, a sacada, a giro, a molinete, etc, etc, etc. I also expected that my partners would also know a gancho, a sacada, a giro, a molinete, etc, etc, etc.

I studied long and hard, and eventually I could perform my steps and figures well. I thought I had it. I honestly thought (at the time) that if I collected enough good step patterns, I would be fine. I took to the milonga floor and imposed... No, INFLICTED this on unsuspecting partners. In my zeal to perfect my steps, I sometimes ended up teaching them to my partner... my sincerest apologies. I did not realize (then), that this was rude in tango.

Starting to lead...

There was an event that made me realize my step collecting folly. My first teacher and I were watching someone someone on the dance floor. He could barely dance, and he was trying to teach a hapless beginner steps. It looked bad, very bad. My teacher told me,

"Look at J... It just upsets me when someone tries to teach something he can't even do himself." 

My head blew up after hearing this, thinking—I was just like that! Ewe! I need to figure things out. My epiphany was this: I told myself that steps are fine, ONLY if I could lead them well. If I can't, I won't.

I learned to lead. I learned to dance with simplicity. I was on my way down a new path. Much to my amazement, making the decision was the easy part.

Leading is not easy. Women dance differently...

Learning to lead was not the defining moment in my tango. It was the beginning of many, many, many headaches to come. 

The source of my consternation... Women dance differently—Each and everyone of them! Gaaaah! I discovered that having learned how to lead, I only knew how to lead ONE way. My style of leading only worked for one type of follow. That made one out of ten dances good. The rest, I would not even call good. I had to figure something out if I wanted to have decent dances.

Lessons from the past: Dialing in...

Being an old and broken veteran, it was once my job to hit distant targets under varying environmental and atmospheric conditions. In order to compensate for variances, I was trained in the very mental exercise of "Dialing in." 

You become aware of your environment and the elements around you and your objective. You know your strengths, capabilities, and limitations. You make your assessments and compensate by (literally) "Dialing in" to adjust your settings. Done right, your target is easily achieved. Done improperly (or ineptly), you waste a good opportunity.

Becoming aware, tweaking the dials...

When the dance starts, we go into an embrace—the abrazo. I feel my partner's breathing rhythm. I feel her level of tension, or relaxation. Where does she hold her weight?

I immerse myself in the music. I feel it. I feel her. I move off, one foot... then the next. I feel her move with me. The dialing in begins.

Does she go long, or go short? Do her steps feel choppy or smooth? Does she feel heavy or light? Does she follow what's led, or does she misread the lead?

Whatever she does, I adapt, and dial in my settings for my lead to match her level of follow. That way, regardless of what and how she follows, by dialing in, I can try to make everything flow into that magic called tango.

Seattle's (finest) tango bloggers

left to right: AmpsterTango, Tina Tangos, Working Artist

On the evening of May 16, 2009, we had a small party. On hand were dear friends, good food, good wine, and a little dancing.

The air was permeated by a bond of friendship and love that was created by this beautiful this thing called, "Tango."

With my sincerest apologies...

Knowing what I know now in tango, I would like to address a few things to a few ladies. I hope that after this, someone will still want to tango with me...

To the lady whom I stepped on, kicked, and knocked knees with,

I apologize. When I was starting out, I didn't and couldn't lead with the right posture, nor with the right walk. I've since corrected those errors and I hope to dance with you again sometime.

To the lady whom I nearly squeezed to death,

I apologize. At the time, I didn't know the difference between a tango embrace—The abrazo, and a Jiujitsu submission hold. I know better now, and when we dance again, I promise to envelop you in a warm loving embrace, and not a bear hug.

To the lady whom I left breathless in less than a tanda,

I apologize. As a beginner, I was impatient, and thought everyone was slow. I was wrong. The next time we dance, I'll dance to the speed of the crowd in harmonious syncopation with you. I promise to not bulldoze right through you.

To the lady whom I led with my flailing arms,

I apologize. I didn't know how to lead yet, so I used your right arm like a boat rudder. I know how to lead now, so when we dance again, I'll present my hand for you to rest yours on. I promise not to wrench it out from its socket.

To the lady whom I bounced around the floor with,

I apologize. It was a remnant of my ballroom days. Rise and fall was the norm. I'm learning to be smooth and walk like I'm on rollers. Next time we dance, I'll try to make it as smooth as possible, and not make you sea-sick from all that bobbing up and down.

To the lady whom I led with a very tentative lead,

I apologize. Starting out, I really didn't know what to do. I assumed that if I give a signal, you'd do a boleo, or a gancho, or a giro, or a molinete... I didn't know that I was supposed to move you—lead you. I think I've it figured out now, so next time, you don't need to guess what I'm trying to do, because you'll be able to feel my lead.

To the lady I tried to teach on the dance floor,

I apologize. I was new. I tried to hide my incompetence by looking smart and teaching you a step that I myself could not lead. It must have been embarrassing or humiliating. In any case, it's not good. I know better now, and when we meet again on the dance floor, things will just happen.

To the lady I heaved around like a sack of potatoes,

I apologize. I confused finesse with brute force. I've since learned to transmit my motion through you very subtly and clearly. As we meet again, we will flow like water.

To the lady I danced with out of tune,

I apologize. At the time interpreting music was not my forté... Ok, I had no clue. I thought that as long as I could do the steps, I'd be fine. I have since learned to read the music, syncopate, dance on time and with rhythm. When we meet, I may not be fancy, but I'll be in tune.

To any one else I have forgotten... I'm sure I have perpetrated a lot more tango malfeasance than what I even remember and/or know... I say to you, "I apologize."

To make amends, I shall do my all to make our next tango experience, a beautiful one.

P.S. I don't stink. So, I won't be apologizing for that. ;-)