September Article

	“and down they forgot as up they grew”  
		-- e.e. cummings ("anyone lived in a pretty how town")

As children, we probably didn’t separate ourselves into “dancers” and “musicians.” It’s entirely natural to consider dance and music one experience. Even toddlers move to music; and elementary students may take dance classes and music lessons at the same time.

It’s when we focus solely on either dance or music that the other may fade, particularly in pre-professional studies. Requirements for technique alone, whether at an instrument or in dance, often consume the day of a serious student. Time outside rehearsals and classes in the particular discipline may be considered an indulgent “extra.”

By the time we become professional, there’s often a real gap between musicians and dancers – differing perspectives, differing vocabularies, differing beliefs about each other’s work and its relationship to our own.

In college, I literally moved back and forth from the dance floor to the piano – I danced in some classes, and accompanied others. And I routinely served as “translator” for other accompanists, explaining to the musicians what the teachers actually meant. That experience showed me the need to bridge the gap, and was a large part of what propelled me to study Jaques-Dalcroze Eurhythmics.

Although I’ve always had a foot in both worlds, I’ve found it’s often best to represent myself as either a musician or a dancer, not both. These are my own experiences, not proven universal truths, in situations where I both was and wasn’t known to be a dancer among musicians, or a musician among dancers.

As a dancer among musicians, I’ve been called a “dancer-type” – and of course, adding the word “type” to any noun is a derogatory means of stereotyping. The term “bunhead” is only a small step away from “airhead,” as if using our bodies requires shutting down our minds. And there’s sometimes an understandable resentment of the ways dancers can butcher (or ignore) music.

As a musician among dancers, there’s a converse discomfort – they know that you know things they don’t know, and nobody likes a “smarty-pants.” In my experience, there’s some resentment that musicians generally make more money than dancers, and can arrive later into the progress of a performance. That’s largely because musicians can perform by reading a score, while dancers need to memorize everything in the course of rehearsals. And to some extent, musicians are more and more invisible as recorded music prevails in classes, rehearsals, and performances, further widening the distance.

Nonetheless, music permeates dance. Dance needs music in ways that music does not need dance. Even in dance classes, music’s sounds pace and measure movement, while providing impetus, inspiring movement qualities, and establishing mood. So a level of music understanding among dance teachers, choreographers, and performers is critical.

Among musicians, the movement of a tapping foot may pace sounds among the group; movements involved in technique are important; and conductors surely work in movement. But dance is not an inherent part of music in the same way music is an integral part of dance. That’s not to say that movement study isn’t valuable for musicians, as any Eurhythmician knows! It does suggest differences, however, in what musicians and dancers can teach each other, and what affect it can have.

Although dancers and musicians share the concept of time in their work, they often speak a different language in discussing it. Differences in vocabulary create challenges in understanding each other, especially in collaborations.

For example, dancers use the word “musicality” to describe what I believe is “musicianship” in movement. Sometimes, however, “musicality” is used to mean “lyricism,” or a floaty, gentle, monodynamic sort of movement quality. It isn’t always recognized that sharp, percussive movement is “musical,” as well.

The word “beat” is sometimes used in dance when “rhythm” would be more accurate. “Triplet,” to dancers, means a walk “in 3” (“down-up-up”). A “phrase” as a combination of movements may or may not relate to the phrases in music accompanying a dance.

The use of numbers is particularly confusing in the world of dance. Any musician who’s ever worked accompanying dance classes will probably have “horror stories” to tell you. “Something in three,” the ballet teacher says, and the poor accompanist can’t satisfy the request until the teacher finally yells, “No, no, no! Something in THREE! One, two, three, eee; One, two, three, eee.”

A renowned modern teacher once demonstrated a long phrase across the floor (which she generally made up as she went along, with great difficulty repeating it for clarity), chanting rhythmically with her movements:

“Something in ten!” she demanded of the perplexed musician. (I translated.)

So being “in” any number may or may not denote meter. Sometimes a choreographer or teacher may actually be working with a phrase of three measures, and says it’s “in three.” The only hope is that they speak or move in a way the musician can interpret.

One choreographer introduced a new piece, counting it in 8’s with some difficulty. When she put on the music, I realized why – the piece was in 7, not 8. It was hard to break that news to her.

In some dance studios today, it’s considered unfashionable to “count.” With pride, dancers say, “I don’t count, I just feel it.” The problem is one of clarity and communication, however. With or without numbers, rhythmic consistency is important, and numbers facilitate that. In one rehearsal not long ago, a new movement phrase was introduced without any rhythmic underpinnings. Each time the group danced it, the rhythm was different, even though music was playing, and even though the dancers were to be in unison. This is a major distraction to me as a dancer. But when I asked to clarify the rhythm, the reply was, “You just have to feel it.” “Fine, could we feel it the same way twice in a row?”

For both musicians and dancers, Eurhythmics provides a streamlined way of experiencing and learning without having to master all the technical difficulties of the other art form. However, even beyond Eurhythmics, there are things musicians can learn from dance.

Perhaps the most obvious example is learning dances that have inspired music composition, from the minuet and sarabande to the mazurka and waltz. Musicians can also gain a new ease and efficiency of movement, technical skills that can be applied to Eurhythmics, an increased range of movement vocabulary, and a broader sense of possibilities for composition in Jaques-Dalcroze plastique animee.

Music study for dancers can assist in rhythmic clarity and communication (yes, including counting), understanding of form, and skills in the translation of sound into movement. These can inform and affect dance teaching, performance, and choreography.

While dance studios and music studios often seem to be a world apart from each other, bridging the gap can ultimately take us back to the innate connection we knew as children. Before we became expert, we knew things that may have become lost along the way. Dancers and musicians both would do well to step back to the place where music and movement were one experience, and let that lead our grown-up expertise to new places.