They're called The Nacho Men. They're an amazing cover band, and they should be: they've been playing professionally for thirty years, opening for some big acts around the country. They were our entertainment tonight, and they were perfect, playing hits from 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s--ideal for a music teachers' conference, even for our most youthful members (and we have quite a few who are fresh out of college). I'm not sure who entertained whom more, though: they may never have had an audience rock a dance party like we did.
Like many of the things that make people cool, dancing was added late to my repertoire. In all honesty, I only really learned to move to music when I became an Orff practitioner. I'd done folk dancing, square dancing, contradancing, ballroom dancing (took a year of it in grad school, in fact), but I never took to the free dancing that is such an important part of enjoying rock music. Part of my problem there is I came late to rock 'n' roll, too.
Enter Orff, though, and everything changed. Orff Schulwerk is big on body music, and I'm not just talking clapping, stomping, patsching, and snapping, as important as percussion is. We believe music is a full body thing, something that starts at the tip of one's toes and reaches up through the crown of one's head, even as it extends out to the far reaches of the performing space, hopefully connecting with a listener on its way to the back wall. Whether we're making music or taking in music, we want it to involve the whole person. The drum circle workshop I participated in this morning was a powerfully holistic musical experience. So was tonight's dance.
On the dance floor, we were endlessly creative, spontaneously creating line dances, conga lines, circle dances, moments for solos and duets, all of us constantly moving, clapping, singing along to the familiar lyrics, harmonizing with our voices as our bodies grooved to the beat. It more than made up for the awkward cocktail hour (I really do hate those things) and the okay catered dinner, both of which could, like our opening session, have been a part of any convention, regardless of the presence of musicians. Sipping drinks or chatting over a chicken dinner, we were doing what anyone does at a conference: the extraverts were dominating the conversations, and the introverts were hoping someone would draw them in. And yes, as if it's any surprise to the people who know me, I fall into that latter category.
Dancing, though--there were no shy people on that dance floor, myself included. Come to think of it, all my favorite dance parties have involved Orff gatherings: the previous experiences were my Level trainings in San Francisco. The music gets inside us, and we love to move to it. By the way, it doesn't have to be rock or pop music, or even swing: Orff teachers can and will groove to some obscure folk song from Albania, move with passion to a dirge, swing our hips to a samba. Dance training is an essential part of our preparation to teach this way, and it gets inside our bones.
It kept me moving well past my injured toe's limits, but I ignored all its complaints, and am now icing it in preparation for going to bed. Tomorrow I will check out and fly home, sorry to leave this magical event, eager for the next one (Nashville!), a full year away, knowing, too, that I've got to find something Orff-related to feed my soul next summer.
The San Francisco Orff program is taking a master class to Ghana in June. Hmmmm--I've still got some continuing education money to spend...
Viva la musica!
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