Man Dance

I've always been a little suspicious of choreographic attempts to define masculinity. They have become very popular in the last few years - the natural reaction, perhaps, of the dancer's ambiguity about their masculinity against more stereotypical male roles, like the sportsman. Personally, I got over any ideas that dancers weren't tough guys the first time I saw the Bolshoi Ballet, and read about Baryshinkov's sexual conquests.

There's inevitably plenty of fighting and peacocking, and the only reason that both The Chinaski Sessions and 12 Dancers don't annoy me beyond measure is that they both have good excuses for taking the male as subject. Between them, the two pieces employed most of the male dancers associated with Scotland and although there are those predictable play-fights (yes, you can lift each other. Well done), they manage to go a little deeper.

The Chinaski Sessions is choreographed by a woman, Kylie Walters, which at least means that this is an outsider's view of masculinity. It uses the avatar of Charles Bukowski to see whether all that pizza-eating, jockeying for position and showing off can be creative. The interaction between the five dancers, including Jack Webb, exhibiting a genuine charisma away from his solo pieces and pretend drunk lout Michael Sherin, and the band I Love Sarah is frequently boorish and thuggish but the climax, which pictures a lads' night out in hideous detail, reveals Walter's talent for exposing character through deft, precise movements.

12 Dancers is the result of Andy Howitt's campaign to bring together a gang of male dancers who represent the various stages of the dancer's career. He is not afraid to pull the older guys on stage - Ian Spink has been better known as a choreographer for the past thirty years, and Peter Royston, having once been with Scottish Ballet, has moved into dance development in Perth. The costumes - suits, these boys are a jury and in their court-room best - add to the cast's gravitas. It's a shock when Allan Irvine busts a few b-boy moves.

Despite the inevitable ruckus, which does look a bit like a primary school lunch-break, 12 Dancers does a good job of using the various scenes to illustrate conflict through dance without it turning into hand-bags at dawn. Telling the classic story about that one time the jury had its mind changed by one man, the narrative is simple and direct. The men argue, through dance, and eventually agree that the defendant is not guilty.

Howitt's ambitious choreography pulls together the various techniques of his 12 men. Daniel Aing brings Capoeira from Marseilles, Malcolm Shields seems to come from a more physical theatre place. Unsurprisingly, Matthew Hawkins is a constant presence, his balletic precision married to an arch enthusiasm. As the piece develops, the different techniques are thrust cheek by jowl and are merged into something approaching an integrated style. If the younger dancers tend to be more emphatic and showy, the seriousness of the older men lends the performance weight.

Masculinity is only half of the story - where Walters adds the idea of creativity, Howitt slams in justice. The narrative is simple enough not to get lost- despite it not always being clear who is arguing for what - and the spectacle of 12 skilled dancers piling around the stark set is frequently comic or impressive. Perhaps more than the content, or even the attempt to juxtapose different dance styles, 12 Dancers is a spectacle, and a one stop guide to Scotland's male dance community.

Except for Tony Mills, who is in Russia. And the cast of The Chinaski Sessions. And Tommy Small and Tom Pritchard, who are doing their show on Friday. There's quite a few male dancers in Scotland.

That might explain why masculinity tends to be a topic, but I haven't seen female choreographers feed a similar need to deconstruct the feminine. True, Curious Seed did have an entry in the Fringe called The Woman Who Wants To Be Funny but that was as much about comedy as it was about gender.

I did grow up around dancers, and the thing I remember most is not how they were compromised in their masculinity, but that they had loads of women flocking to them. I think I got picked on a bit at school, but that wasn't because I got caught wearing my ballet tights. I was an irritating egg-head who liked Latin.

Last Chance: David Hughes and Matt Foster talk The Chinaski Sessions

Scotland is particularly blessed with a cohort of companies and choreographers which is willing to take dance seriously: from Janis Claxton's bold use of simian movements through to Christine Devaney's  dance theatre, the past decade has been healthy and challenging. David Hughes Dance have been at the front of this trend, annually presenting a piece that pokes at predictable processes and concentrated on controversial content. At the start of the current tour, of The Chinsaki Sessions, Hughes and associate director Matt Foster talked about the company, their vision and how they can use a critic as a marketing promise...

GKV: It seems as if you are intent on challenging audiences to define what dance can be: your ever expanding repertoire of pieces, new choreographers, surprising content - last time it was eating people, this time it's masculine rock. Behind this, is there a David Hughes Dance vision that unites your output?

David Hughes: After 26 years I've been around the block and am easily bored, so am always trying to get something that excites me. If I have the right recipe this will come through to the audience.

The DHD vision is the performers: we don’t provide choreographers with the kinds of performers they are used to working with. These guys are a mixed bag of highly skilled performers from different disciplines, and together with the right choreographer the work transcends beyond technicality and performance: the movement becomes a vehicle for each person to come through. We all have our own different ways and we just get on with it.

Matt Foster: It’s simple really - the artistic vision of the company is to challenge and redefine the boundaries of dance and physical theatre. Every work we produce must in some way attempt to do this, to challenge notions of context, notions of what technique really means and certainly to challenge convention. We aim to try and push Scottish products beyond the conventional, to aspire to the ground-breaking work found in Europe/abroad - this is only possible if you’re willing to take risks and NOT play it safe as so many do.


GKV: What attracted you to Chinaski/Bukowski as a subject? Is it the chance to play with identity and autobiography or the detail of his stories? 

DH: It’s not the theme or the narrative that attracts me, it’s the choreographer, and although it’s not a conscious effort, we have a history of supporting strong female choreographers. There are really good choreographers out there who just happen to be women - ferocious women who kick arse at this. It speaks volumes that a female choreographer can take this bunch of male dancers and a rock band and whoop them into shape.

GKV: I am assuming there that you had a say in the content... Which suggests my next question... Once you've got the choreographers on board, do you get much say in what happens in the studio?

DH: I do now get a say in what happens in the studio and the work. I keep an eye on things; in commissioning works I am a client with a commitment to my audience; I want a good product. As a company that likes to take risks, we also have to be clever not to offend our audiences. I am there to support, and within reason there are rules in place to have constructive criticism without knocking the choreographer’s confidence.


MF: That is what we offer as a company - a blank canvas of talent and resources for a choreographer to fully realise their vision. However, we still have to have the last say as we have to protect the integrity of the organisation and the relationships we have forged with our partners and funders.

GKV: I know that you are one for strong narratives... What can we do about all this abstract dance that seems to be replacing choreography that might ... Communicate something? 

DH: I believe in the way we work, that you have to be at a phenomenal level to do a solely abstract work. But then some people do just like watching bodies, each to their own!

MF: Abstract dance has its place and certainly, those who obsess over technique advocate it but our journey has led us to realise that audiences enjoy narrative as they feel included - that they ‘get it’ and have something to follow. As a vehicle, narrative shines a light on an individual’s charisma as opposed to just the shapes and forms of that individual. Charisma, character, passion - these make us feel something and that is the strong point of DHD.



GKV: Another leading question there... Forgive me- but finally- what can an audience expect this time?" 
DH: Firstly, don’t apologise. This time an audience can expect a full on evening of in your face, relentless testosterone, you get to the end and go ‘what was that!’

If you don’t like the dance, you’ll love the music. If you don’t like the music, you’ll love the dance. If you hate it all Gareth Vile will run down the street nude- or, as a registered charity, we’ll accept donations for him not to!

I'm random and spontaneous, we don’t set ourselves in any category but we exist in the periphery of dance and physical theatre. We are now returning to pure dance, but who can say what will happen next? Get ready for our next couple of years!

MF: As mentioned, this is a charismatic show. It doesn't fall into the conventional realm of dance and that is a conscious choice. This work was created to ‘stomp on the stale ground of contemporary dance’. What you will see is seven guys putting their guts and soul into 80 minutes of rock fuelled madness and only out-of-touch bun-heads with cobwebs in their ears/eyes could fail to appreciate it.

Kylie Walters: Interview with the choreographer of The Chinaski Sessions (Full Text)

Much as I hate using a format like this - my stupid question, the artist's generous response - I do like to put out the complete version of interviews. Partially so that the artist doesn't think I have wasted their time - it's clear how much work goes into this - and partially so it is evident who much I adapt their answers to  follow my own insidious agenda. 

This is an interview with Kylie Walters. She choreographed The Chinaski Sessions  for David Hughes Dance. See it this weekend...

GKV:The most obvious question is why Bukowski? What attracted you to him as the foundation for the piece?

Bukowski's writing comes from a very masculine perspective, some would even say a misogynistic perspective. That interested me, firstly in the obvious sense that I was a woman working with an all male cast but also as a poetic analogy for the  phenomena that  heavy rock music often has a predominantly male audience and the dance world a predominately female following. 

That social cleavage already creates a tension. I'd read Women by Bukowski and was blown away by the way in which Bukowski draws you into his shambolic, alcohol fuelled and yet highly creative world. You are admirative, disgusted and fascinated in turns. The Chinaski Sessions plays on this. The band, their mates and hangers on are all male, there are no women in the room. This theatrical foundation provides the stamping ground for a range of male, and sometimes "cock rock" behaviour, be it testosterone fuelled spurts of energy, the simple joys of a bunch of guys hanging out together, the lethargy coupled with brewing aggression or the primitive urge to compete and egg one another on. 

Imagine a young, 7 headed Chinaski today, who has some funky moves and listens to rock rather than classical music. 

How far do you use the poetry or stories? From reading the release it appears that you are using chinaski more as a starting point to look at masculinity...

 I've taken the Chinaski reference merely as a springboard to explore masculine behaviour in a rock context. The piece is inspired more by the atmosphere of Chinaski's flat  rather than the poetry or stories of Bukowski per se. I do not see the point in "adapting" such a strong work. 

The name "Chinaski" in itself speaks to me on a musical level. It has a  percussive  and muscular ring to it,  which sits  with the emphasis I have put on the live rock music in the show by Belgian band I Love Sarah. 

How far is it possible to find new ground to discuss masculinity? Plenty has been said and danced...

Yes!  What interests me here is that  all this male energy is used and channelled to create something - rock. Something about the chemistry of hanging out and playing together spurs on a creative act. It's almost a ritualistic playing out of masculinity in order to access that creative territory. So I see it more through anthropological eyes  than it being pseudo psychological exploration of masculinity. 

Whether that is a fresh perspective or not it throws up questions for me in terms of creative process. How do men function and create in a group situation? Does a certain setting affect the style of what comes out in the end? This fascinates me. When a band locks themselves away in a cabin in the woods to record or decides to record in their bedroom, or in a castle it has to have an impact. If they eat pizza or macrobiotic food it has an impact. The flavours are going to be different.

How do you work with the band? At what point did they become part of the process?

I am a fan of I Love Sarah -  their music, their presence, their humour. I'd already worked with Jeroen Stevens (ILS drummer)  and something clicked and we knew we wanted to work  together again. I have pretty much based the piece on the band, so they were in the mix right from the beginning. We started out in a bar in Brussels, discussing what their place would be in the work and we all felt comfortable with that. 

I reassured them I would not make them dance! I'd already heard the band play live  so was familiar with their music and "stage style" which is informal, chatty and then BAMM. We selected songs which I felt served the work best and then together we tweaked them. They were very open to adding to and even changing the structure of some of their well known songs. A few songs in there are new material for them and one is created specially for the show. 

Time constraints dictated this approach. If we had 3 months to work on the piece I think we would have written all the music from scratch. The set order is not at all what they would normally play so it's a challenge for them to set up the loops in time and also to interact with some of the rhythms which the dancers add. 2 weeks into the process they came in and then spent 4 weeks in the studio with us.

 Apart from shaping the music for the piece and also integrating the presence of 5 other guys banging on their cymbals and destroying their cables, the band have quite a lot of text and stage activities to perform in the show. This is pretty new for them. They are an integral part of the show - not just the live musicians off on the side accompanying the action. I think this really pulls the show out of the realm of your standard rock gig or dance piece with live music. That took a lot of rehearsing - how to negotiate not only the music but also the physical, scenographic space for both the dancers and  musicians!

What was your route to becoming a choreographer and what keeps you doing it?

I have been choreographing ever since I can remember. I'm a very physical person. On the most basic level I guess I  see things choreographically. In the street, the cadence of people walking in time, the weird symmetry of a bus pulling up and a cloud passing by in the opposite direction, the movement of a crowd when they start head banging in unison at a concert. 

The way someone holds their drink and leans in to say something in a conversation. I've been involved  as a  dancer, actress and musician in many shows, most of which implied creating material rather than interpreting material. I  make pieces. I never think of making a "dance" piece, "theatre" piece or "music" piece. Choreography today is such a huge realm. You construct movement, you direct, you create a world.  That makes it exciting for me. I am often on the edge of what is considered dance. It's the ideas that keep me going,  and then finding the best means to express those ideas kicks in. 

Choreography is one of the tools I have in my bag to do that. If I think the idea will be better served by music or text - I will use it. Choreography has a lot to do with communicating your ideas well to a group of people, be they the lighting designer, the composer or the dancers. I really love the hands on reality of that.   

A Quiet Word with David Hughes

While people don't really believe a word a say, I do believe that Scotland could be on the cusp of a great dance revival. It's not so much the appointment of new artistic directors to the big two companies (Scottish Ballet and Scottish Dance Theatre) in the past year -but the diversity of companies knocking around the country. My own enthusiasm notwithstanding, and the efforts of the state to Get Scotkand Dancing, Scotland seems exceptionally  well-served with choreographers who are moving in distinctive, even unique directions,

David Hughes Dance is powered by the restless vitality of its artistic director, a former Rambert dancer and a man not given to resting on past glories. "After 26 years I've been around the block and am easily bored," Hughes admits. "So I am always trying to get something that excites me. If I have the right recipe this will come through to the audience."

In the past three years, Hughes has worked with Al Seed, the Big Man of Live Art and leader of Conflux, Glasgow's home for physical theatre, Christopher Bruce and Siobhan Davies (Bruce and Davies recreating work that they originally made on Hughes in his earlier career): and while the publicity and press around the company carefully avoids mentioning the C-word, Hughes' vision is contemporary in the sense of being modern, immediate and constantly evolving.

"The DHD vision is the performers," he continues. "We don’t provide choreographers with the kinds of performers they are used to working with." When Al Seed directed The Red Room, Hughes had him working with an Indian dancer: associate director Matt Foster comes from a b-boy background. For their latest project, The Chinaski Sessions, choreographer Kylie Walters was given five of Scotland's most dynamic male dancers. "These guys are a mixed bag of highly skilled performers from different disciplines." 

Yet Hughes' works are interested in more than just technique: from The Red Room through to Chinaski, dance has been put at the service of narrative - or, at the least, grand ideas. He explains that "Together with the right choreographer, the work transcends beyond technicality and performance: the movement becomes a vehicle for each person to come through. We all have our own different ways and we just get on with it."

The company's restlessness is reflected not just in the variety of ideas explored in their works - cannibalism, decadence, plague, sexual desire, masculinity - but the refusal to be contained by a simple definition. Hughes insists "I'm

random and spontaneous. We don’t set ourselves in any category but we exist in the periphery of dance and physical theatre." For Chinaski, "we are now returning to pure dance, but who can say what will happen next?"

"P.S." Hughes concludes. "Get ready for our next couple of years!"

Photography for Chinaski by Sally Cuthbert

Sorry, Michael, but Rock is Dead ( late October)

Michael Clark said that Rock has been his rock. Last week, I interviewed my childhood hero, Michael Gira, who has released the most comprehensive, expansive and precise album of his career. Ben Frost is about to perform his album By The Throat at Glasgow's Fruitmarket.

These three events only emphasise how rock music is nothing more than a corpse, a decaying memory of a time when youth was more than a currency for marketing. Once a vibrant cultural movement, allied with fashion and often emerging from the art schools of London and Glasgow, rock music either trades on past glories - thank you, Public Image Limited for your recent tour that reminded us how good you were in the 1980s - dilutes its energy in pastiche of past styles - Amanda Palmer has abandoned the punk cabaret for a bloated, dated sound - or is energised by new alliances - Clark's use of Scritti Politti is far more interesting than their music, and Ben Frost wanders into neo-classical and electronica, despite his use of rock's iconic "loud guitar."

Gira's Swans, meanwhile, have very little connection to anything else within rock. Their ambition only highlights how mediocre most bands have become.

But how can rock revive itself? Luckily, Scotland has some shows that might give a clue to the future. Why attend a traditional gig - standing about in over-crowded rooms, battling the drunks to buy an over-priced orange juice and missing the last train home - when it's possible to get a musical fix and be entertained and educated at the same time?

Spreading my attention north, David Hughes Dance is taking The Chinaski Sessions to the Lemon Tree in Aberdeen. Starring  Belgian post-rock duo I Love Sarah and five male dancers with a little too much energy, choreographer Kylie Walters has fun cracking open the macho myth and peeking at the way that rock'n'roll is tied up with the sort of hard-drinking, boorish heroism that Charles Bukowski celebrated in his poetry and prose.

Unlike many attempts to respond to Bukowski, and most rock bands' attitudes towards women, world and work, Walters approach is neither uncritical nor savage: her approach involved finding an innate masculine energy and letting it dance.

I'm unlikely to shut up about The Sonica Festival for the next two months - it sits on the edge of at least three art forms, so will end up appearing in any top five I care to make - but that a musical festival contains so little rock is telling. One contribution from the world of pop culture is #Unravel, the installation-collaboration between Found and  Aidan Moffat. I sometimes wonder whether Found, a band who do proper gigs and everything, are more concerned with distancing themselves from rock and associating with a visual art community: #Unravel was a cheeky highlight of the Glasgow International Art Fest, and allows the audience to follow through Aidan Moffat's selection of short stories, set to Found's music. Plus this one is free.

I suppose that these events either contradict my assumption that rock is dead by demonstrating that it is re-inventing itself through careful collaboration, or prove it through the rock's need to collaborate with other, more inspired arts. I think I was pushing my luck in the first place: an album as forceful, brutal and occasionally poetic as Swans is unlikely to have become popular without an audience already familiar with punishing noise, extended jams and a taste for the psychedelic, and Michael Clark was pointing out how rock has continued to inspire him. Hell, I'd change the title if I didn't like it so much.