breaking it down

There's something bewitching about street performances, and this weekend I saw one of the coolest yet on my recordbooks. This is going to be a long rambling blogpost recounting it - the type of tourist rehash I normally try to spare y'all - but it was just so awesome and educational I can't help myself. There's always the browser "close" button, and you can wait for a more entertaining post next time. :)

So Daegu throws itself a festival every October (the idyllic window between harsh seasons, apparently), and it's quite the affair. Music galore, whimsical public art, an awesome craft zone for kids (a theme in this country, I think), puppets and costumes, fireworks and light displays along the river ... and of course every kind of street food you'll find in town (dried octopus, anyone?). But the most fascinating part of it happened on some vinyl spread out right in front of the KFC downtown, where a handful of dance troupes, a drummer, a traditional singer, a DJ and a couple emcees combined for a street performance - tightly ringed with Koreans, cameras and me ... I don't know where all the Westerners were, but I didn't see another white face all evening, so it wasn't a dog-and-pony show for the tourists.

The performance combined a variety of styles, but it was anchored in breakdancing - a combination of stylized dance and power gymnastics (to see an example of Korean breakdancing, click here).

In American culture, breakdancing has historically been all about rebellion. It originated in minority districts of New York in the 60s or 70s (reputedly as a way for gangs to nonviolently settle turf wars, a la "West Side Story," but don't believe everything you read), and later spread through the black hip-hop and funk movements. Of course today there are plenty of white fans, but it's still largely set to street-slang-laden tracks about carnal desires and defying The Man. Until recently, outside of specific competitions, it was generally found only in select big-city clubs with a population between 18 and 35. And it's still largely a scene of young, urban minorities.

In Korea, where breakdancing recently spread through general Westernization, the sport seems to be just a new take on an old tradition. A passion of the young (let's face it, their bodies are the only ones who can handle it), but nurtured by the Old Guard and seen as a family affair. The country is largely homogeneous, so Korean "B-boys" (from "break boys" or "Bronx boys," depending on your source) don't have a separate culture from the masses. And breakdancing is the territory of YMCAs and other culture centers, and frequently done in partnership with traditional Korean instruments and dancers. Kinda like if square dancing met rap ... at the suburban Y.

The show this weekend was attended by all ages and started with a pangut troupe - traditional Korean dancers/instrumentalists. This particular group were boys and men probably 16 to 50, dressed in white robes, brightly colored sashes and tall hats. Now these hats look rather ridiculous to Western sensibilities - they appear to have mammoth white carnations stapled to them and ribbons or feather puffs on swinging sticks protruding from the top. In my jaunts through the neighborhood or along the riverside track by our dorms, I regularly see groups of high school students trussed up as such awaiting performances - and pity them immensely. But I've never seen them in action, and you stop wondering why any self-respecting man (much less awkward teenage boy) would wear such a thing once they go into motion. The performers play a variety of handheld percussion instruments WHILE dancing and leaping in formation AND flipping the ribbons/feather puffs about - it's quite the show. Anyone who can pull all that off at one time can wear any crazy thing he pleases. To see an example of pangut from a different festival, click here. (The costumes vary slightly from group to group.)

After the pangut guys had marched in grandly and done their thing for awhile, the young, punk B-boys stepped up and joined in, in their style. There were several dance-off moments, various solos, call-and-response action and finally one grand flash of ancient and modern all swirling about to the elemental beat. Then the pangut crew bowed out and the B-boys and other dancers took over the circle for a modern dance/sketch comedy routine about riding on a bus, set to funk and pop, and featuring some great 1980s Michael Jackson gloves and moves. It was hilarious and inventive and awesome - a textbook example of good showmanship.

Next up was a bigtime DJ from Seoul - and it was really cool to see him do his thing ... I don't think I've ever just sat and watched a DJ at work before. Turns out there's more to it than the sampling and mixing and timing and looping and scratching - it's also a very physical skill at times, requiring a controlled wrist spasm something like how a good tapdancer trills his foot. I wonder whether those guys get carpal tunnel. Eventually the all-out breakdancing started again and the DJ became a soundtrack.

What's really interesting is that in Korea, the callout seems to be a really important feature of solo breakdancing. You know that these guys - and occasionally gals - have to practice their routines for hours to prepare for their time in the limelight. Yet when the moment comes, it's not like other Western performances - instrumental or dance - where performers simply take turns stepping out. Here, where modesty is a highly prized virtue, performers must be virtually begged by their cohorts to take the floor alone. You can tell that many of them build stylized callouts into their routines to give the next dancer the time he needs to protest.

Yet on the other hand, audiences tend to be much more stoic, so performers often have to go looking for applause, which they do quite frequently. It's a puzzling scene for a foreigner.

The other interesting thing here is to watch women dancers, because they are quite scarce - almost nonexistant in straight-up breakdancing because of the physical demands (immense upper-body strength) and disadvantage a low center of gravity. But even when they are simply professional dancers of other styles, as in this performance, they tend to be markedly reserved - it's almost as if they dance in the way American performers sometimes rehearse a routine, focusing on remembering the steps but only using half-motions. I'm nowhere close to understanding gender roles in this country, so I'll refrain from making any social commentary on the observation, but it's interesting, at any rate.

Anyway, back to the show: I wasn't sure how it could surprise or fascinate me more, but the next act pulled it off again - a jazzy dance/comedy routine that was something about various frogs and fishes getting eaten by Barney-like swamp monsters, set to a soundtrack of disco, techno, hip-hop and jazz. Again an utterly bizarre combination of genres and concepts, and again artfully twisted into an incredibly entertaining act.

And for the final number, lo and behold a traditional Korean singer emerged from the crowd. She then proceeded to narrate a dance in a combination of spoken word and operatic style. I have no idea what half of it was about ... there was a student and a dog and some thugs and a dance school ... and somewhere in there a random ninja showed up ... but it was again various parts comedy routine, breakdance, modern dance, martial arts, hip-hop and traditional music and again utterly amazing. The pangut crew came back in at the end and there was a final dance-off backed by the DJ.

The Koreans all clapped diligently but with far less enthusiasm than I thought they should ... though I should probably give them a break since they clap palm-to-palm and that's no way to make real noise. (That show was probably the first time I actually have appreciated Americans' noisier side.) But anway, Daegu festival organizers accomplished their goal, as far as I'm concerned: After a great event lineup and particularly that show, I'm now durned proud of my "Colorful" city of residence and ready to tell the world it's a great place to be. (Side note: A friend asked me what "Colorful Daegu" translated to, by the way ... and um, that's it. But I'd say it's a better slogan than "Korea Sparkling," which is the current national pick.)

A couple follow-up notes:

I won't go into it here, largely because I can't find the articles I'm thinking of, but there's a whole nother interesting side of the breakdancing evolution in Southern California, where large black and Korean populations have historically been at odds but are now intersecting regularly through the art. If you're curious, Google it and tell me what you come up with.

And if you want to see more breakdancing by TG Breakers, one of the groups I saw this weekend, click here. The clips are all from B-boy competitions.

Happy YouTubing. :)