adapted from several
posts over the years about how to bring newcomers into the dancing
Many dance communities
include a session beforehand explicitly aimed at newcomers. During this time
(half an hour or more in some locations), the usual pattern is to lead folks
through a series of figures to prepare them for the dances to come.
The argument is that
newbies need to know this information, and that a beginners session is the best
way for them to learn it. My own experience learning contras came in an era
when there were no beginners' sessions, so that's certainly influenced my
approach. I think the best way is for the caller to plan a program carefully,
introducing basic figures at the start of the evening and teaching more
complicated movements, such as a hey for four, when the beginners can be
assisted by more experienced dancers on the floor.
adapted from a 2011 post and an exchange with a caller friend
On one of the caller listservs to which I belong came this comment: "I would be interesting to hear how other callers incorporate other formations in their programs and how they and the dancer feel about it..."
Most of the responses, mine included, spoke to what we as callers do in our programs and why. Embedded in our answers is the reality of being hired professionals at the mercy of the dance organizers and subject to local customs. For example, one caller wrote: "My region is not very square-friendly, at least not at a contra dance. ... So given the local atmosphere, I stick to mostly improper and Becket contra dances."
The Big Question hidden behind all of our responses so far is, "To what extent should callers select a program based on the wishes of the dancers?" Granted, unless one meets those expectations at least in part, one will have a hard time getting hired again. I'm well aware of that reality.
Dances and Inclusiveness
from a post to the trad-dance-callers group, November 2004
time to time on discussion groups, someone inevitably will argue that
the solution to declining attendance is for the organizers to arrange
for more challenging dances. The best way to keep dancers interested,
so goes this train of thought, is to offer ever-increasing levels of
challenge to provide fresh stimulation.
Changing Contra Choreography
adapted from an e-mail to a fellow caller, 2005
Dancing with Dudley in the early to mid-1970s, I remember doing a lot of traditional material—that's when I learned Rory O'More and Chorus Jig and Lady of the Lake and Sackett's Harbor and Petronella and Lady Walpole's Reel and Money Musk and other standards. Other material included some compositions by Ralph Page and then, toward the end of the 1970s, some new compositions started making the rounds, dances by Tony Parkes and by Ted Sannella. Sandy Bradley came through New England on several occasions with her lively personality and all these great western squares, which certainly got our attention.
Programs were much more relaxed through the 1970s... an individual dance would end and there might be five minutes of visiting and standing around before we lined up for the next dance, unlike today's norm of dance dance dance.
Members of the governing board of Country Dance and Song Society recently had an e-mail exchange about how to boost attendance at some of our summer camp weeks. Among other topics, we talked about how American dances might best be incorporated into other programs. One energetic and thoughtful young dancer ended his post with this comment: "For young American-only dancers, the key to enthusiasm is to have age peers enthusiastically interested in whatever is being danced. We all know this. My point is that "[contras and squares] vs English" is not the right grouping with regard to enthusiasm, but rather "contras vs [squares or English]."
Creating a Vision
adapted from an e-mail (2003) to an organizer dealing
with strident demands by a few dancers for more challenging dances
What you're going through isn't unique to your series. It's
happened at most contra dance series with which I'm familiar, and for that
matter, a similar thing happened in the modern western square dance movement,
both in the early 1960s and again more recently. There seems to be a tendency
for a small group of active dancers—what Ralph Sweet once labeled the "overactive
10%"—to try to make things fit their own view of how dancing should be,
which leads to the gradual—or not-so-gradual—exclusion of just plain folks who
like to dance but perhaps not as often as the others.
from a rec-folk-dancing post (1998) in response to a dancer who said that
callers should stay at the microphone rather than coming onto the floor to
> The only figure that must be demonstrated is the courtesy turn.
That's also the figure that's hardest for new dancers to learn.
Hmm... it IS one of the figures
I demonstrate most often, partly to show an alternative to the twirls and
partly to demonstrate how folks can connect via eye contact to turn what might
otherwise seem a boring filler for the men into a fun figure for all.
The most common reason I jump down from the stage to demonstrate a
figure (which I do far more often than asking dancers on the floor to demo
something) is to make a point about styling.
adapted from a
post to the trad-dance-callers group, 2005
Last night, as
it happens, I was calling at the 22nd annual family dance sponsored by the PTO
in the small city where I live in northern NH. I've called at each of these
dances for no pay—"community service" is how I think of it—though I
do ask for a fee at the other such dances I do in neighboring towns. Music was
provided by a family band—a mother who is a fine fiddler and two of her
kids—which adds a nice touch to a family dance. (One parent came up to ask the
pianist, age 14, if she would be interested in giving piano lessons to his
somewhere between 150 and 175, with kids as young as 3 (and a few who were
probably younger than that as well) on the dance floor. They could walk without
falling over, but just barely! Two hours and a little bit more, with a short
For Love or Money
Adapted from several posts and letters to caller friends
over the years
Bill Martin wrote:
> If a dance looks
like it will be a real party -
> "great music and huge crowds of enthusiastic
dancers" - I would pay to play!
Other musicians and callers have touched in recent postings
on their reasons for playing or calling. Some in the dance community are trying
to earn a livelihood from their work; for most of us, it is something we do on
a post in which someone argued that a dance series should stick to contra
dances and not bother with other formations.
concern here is to attract and retain beginner dancers.
agreement on this. Well [I equivocate], maybe not total. My concern is to make
the dance one where beginners will have a great time, and where the regular
mixed-ability dancers and the hard-core hot-shot dancers and the elegant
excellent dancers all have fun as well. If the beginners and the other dancers
have a great time and don't come back, I still feel I've done my job. (If they
don't have fun, then I share a large part of the blame.)
Adapted from a letter (1999) to a dance
organizer in another community; his organizing committee was hotly debating
what sort of dance should be encouraged
What is the vision of the series?
Let me add right away that this isn't
just my question—it's the one that was put forward by Larry Jennings over
several decades. (In fact, I think that pushing this question was one of
Larry's most important contributions to the dance world; he obviously made it
part of my consciousness.
Some of the answers to the vision thing may come
as you and your committee discuss whether your aim is to build a community
dance or a so-called dance community.
Hot Modern Moves
Written in 2003, but still
applicable, alas, to today's dance scene...
I was calling recently in a large
city for an evening of contra dancing and a guy comes up to me afterwards with
nice comments about the evening. We get to talking and he mentions in passing
that I'm quite a “traditional caller.”
“Thanks,” I say, and upon reflection,
I consider that perhaps this wasn’t meant as a compliment. I ask him, “But what
do you mean by 'traditional?’ ”
He explains that there’s a
genuineness in my calling and that I seem to respect the dances a lot. I’m
happy to hear this, and I explain to him that I live New Hampshire, where
there’s a long tradition of contra dancing, and I do try to respect that
Someone on the SharedWeight discussion group mentioned that Charlottesville, VA, dance organizers had recently started asking callers to include a mixer in the first quarter of each evening's program. This raised a small buzz of comments about the place of mixers in a program and, more generally, whether organizers should be telling callers what to do. Here, slightly edited, is my response (March 3, 2012).
I'm fascinated by this discussion about mixers. with most of the comments so far indicating that a) the authors don't like 'em, b) they don't use them, c) they don't see the point, and d) dancers don't like 'em.
This strikes me as another example of people liking what they are accustomed to. One of my caller mentors was Ted Sannella, who usually programmed a mixer as the third dance of an evening; Tony Parkes, also, I believe, puts one there for similar reasons. By this time, the caller can assume that the bulk of the dancers have arrived, and a mixer gives everyone a chance to see everyone else who's there. Mixers come in all shapes-- Sicilian circle, big circle / big set, scattered couples, lines of three... They are a systematic way of taking new couples clinging to each other and mixing them up. They give experienced helpful dancers a chance to learn who's new, to note that person to ask later in the evening. They add choreographic variety to a program.
Meat and Potatoes
from a post in 2007
think that good music for contras consists of well-phrased melodies
backed by solid rhythm. I want the music to tell me what to do. If
the melody disappears into an endless fog of non-stop improvisation
and the beat similarly wanders off the rails, I have to resort
to—aagh!—counting to keep track of where I am in the dance. Not
Planning a Program
While clearing out some files from an old computer, I recently came across this piece published in the CDSS News, #157, November/December 2000, under the title "Contra Calling." I tried to outline the sorts of decisions—choreographic and musical—that a caller makes behind the scenes. One of my programs today might include different dances, but the process I go through, 15 years later, is much the same.
Inside the Caller’s Mind
Planning an Evening’s Contra Dance Program
by David Millstone
Planning a program of dances involves more than just picking dance cards at random. An evening of contra dancing is a expression of a caller’s vision brought into focus by a sponsor’s expectations. How do you plan an evening for a public dance which will include a mixture of beginners and experienced dancers? What are the questions that the caller must ask when working with an unfamiliar group? Here’s the process I went through in planning an evening program this summer for the Round Hill Country Dancers in Greenwich, CT, a venue where I had neither danced nor called before.
So, Why Are They Called Chestnuts?
This one has appeared on various other people's websites, so I thought it was time to put it on my own.
published in CDSS News, #169, November/December 2002
It started simply enough, with a question posted from Baltimore to rec.folk-dancing, an Internet discussion group:
I know a “chestnut” is a traditional contra dance, typically associated with a particular tune- but it seems no one in Baltimore really knows why “chestnuts” are called chestnuts. I did come up with some wise-crack explanations, but none that have any credibility. So, dear readers, I ask: Why are “chestnuts” called chestnuts?
Several people replied, some citing dictionary definitions and some web pages showing the origin of the phrase “an old chestnut,” but no one knew for certain how the term came to be applied to those older contras. David Smukler opined, correctly, that the term was somehow connected to the seminal albums of New England Chestnuts by Rodney and Randy Miller, but he, too, wasn’t sure how the term gained its contra dance sense.
I live in New Hampshire and I’ve been part of the dance scene here as dancer and caller for about thirty years, so I thought I’d quickly find an answer.
Square Dance Calling
2011, a response to a caller
> I haven’t even ventured into squares because I don’t know how to call them and don’t know where to learn.
For starters, Tony Parkes includes a helpful discussion of squares in his Contra Dance Calling text book.
Calling so-called “New England squares” is much the same as calling for a contra dance; figures fit the phrasing of a typical AABB tune. Ted Sannella’s two collections (Balance and Swing, Swing the Next) contain many examples of these style of dances, and the syllabi of the annual Ralph Page Dance Legacy Weekend, available online, are a valuable resource for more such dances.
Callers Mary Devlin and Philippe
Callens encouraged dance communities to find a way of recognizing Ted
during a “Ted Sannella Memorial Week,” November 11 - 20, 2005, at
the time of the tenth anniversary of Ted’s death. This was my
One way to celebrate his contributions
is simply by showcasing many of the different formations Ted utilized
in his choreography. In many ways, he was a staunch traditionalist,
avoiding using the term “half figure eight,” for example, since
it wasn’t part of the traditional contra lexicon. (He’d say
“cross through the couple above, then go down the outside.”) At
the same time, he was a wonderful innovator, drawing from Southern
squares (lady round two and the gent cut through) and from English
(his triplets were inspired by dancing Fandango at Pinewoods).
from a letter to a caller seeking advice on how to introduce her
dancers to triple minor contras
are several parts of Cracking
the book about older dances authored by David Smukler and me, that
will help you in introducing them to your dancers. David S. has an
excellent piece on "How To Call a Chestnut" and another on
"Triple Minor Mathematics," both of which offer useful
tips. In addition to these general remarks, we talk about particular
difficult moments or special moments in each of the dances we
present, and you may find that those comments help you. The book is
available from the CDSS store.
biggest challenge is, of course, the progression, getting the 2s and
3s used to the notion of switching roles each time through the dance.
The Virtues of Inactivity
adapted from a post to rec.folk.dancing, 2003
A caller wrote, discussing dancing a few decades back: "The
actives often got to swing when the inactives didn't; they went down the hall
and back while the inactives waited, that sort of thing."
That single word "waiting" doesn't do justice to the many
possibilities open to the inactives in these older dances:
• They get to talk to each other, and not just those interrupted
conversations that we have with a partner in the more modern dances, where you
get a few beats of conversation before you're off somewhere else again.
Where's the partner swing?
Adapted from a post to rec.folk-dancing
A few weeks ago, when one couple at the
head of the set asked me that very question—I was happy to note that they were
smiling as they spoke—I referred them to Section III, Subsection 2, paragraph
A(5) of the Caller-Dancer Compact, which simply states that a pair of dancers
who feel that a particular dance doesn't give them enough swings together may
remain as partners for the next dance.
Callers (contra callers as well as
modern western square dance callers) have been dealing with the overactive 10%
subgroup for a long time; this is not just a contemporary issue. (I suspect
that it's probably the same in the international folk dance community, where
some folks who dance a lot are wanting programs with lots of more complex
Balkan dances while others are content to have more variety.)
> actives crossing over before the
caller says to do so
and others wrote to say, "What's
adapted from an essay prepared for the Smithsonian
Festival of American Folklife, 1999
Growing up, I never felt comfortable dancing. I was one of
those guys who stood on the sidelines in junior high school, waiting for the
slow numbers where I could shuffle my feet awkwardly while clutching a partner.
In college, I danced to rock music in large part because my girlfriend liked to
dance and I wanted to be with her.
Discovering contra dance in the 1970s was a revelation. I
liked folk music already, and this dance music felt familiar, that foot-tapping
sound of the fiddles backed up by solid rhythm. Great music, friendly people,
and a logical flow to the dances all combined to provide a satisfying way of
moving to music.
Writing contra dances
adapted from a letter to a dancing friend who had expressed interest in writing his own dances
I'd like to try to write some dances - I guess start with a contra. Would you please send me some standards in the correct format and provide any pointers? Writing dances somehow seems similar to blocking actors, and I enjoy working that puzzle.
Basics: A generic contra dance consists of 32 bars of music, an A part (8 bars, or 16 steps), which is repeated, followed by two B parts. There are exceptions (Money Musk is only 24 bars, for example, and David Kaynor's original Cherokee Shuffle fit that slightly crooked tune); similarly, some tunes follow a different musical pattern (e.g., ABCB). For now, stick with the standards.