Simcha Dancing Word from: David

Confession: The primary reason I didn't attend M.I.A's concert wasn't her controversial lyrics, distaste for hipster fans, the political situation in Israel, or religious prohibitions of the 'nine days.' What really kept me out of Central Park was my fear of public dancing. (Exhibit A: A picture taken at an actual engagement party in YU's
Morg lounge, with friends, posted on Only Simchas.)

The spectrum of cultural variety within American Judaism offers many chances for men to embarass themslves on the dance floor. Day school students remember the inevitable Shlock Rock concert. Bar & Bat Mizvot offer pre-teens the chance to put on a sailor's suit at the Y.M.C.A, a song that has been almost universally accepted despite it's Christian and homoerotic themes. (See Disco Bar Mitzvah.) Klezmer is restricted to a handful of intellectuals. Israeli folk dancing waned in popularity, when all but a few kibbutznikim and youth group leaders fell prey to the lures of trance and techno music. And as for Orthodoxy, take your pick; there is the cult-like creepiness of a Carlebach minyan, yeshiva boys shuckling to reggae, trying way too hard to be casual, and then there is Simcha Dancing.

Described as 'complicated series of steps, hops, and spins in perfect rhythm with the upbeat music' by Generation J, this genre at first seems less than controversial. The music certainly played isn't-unless you feel that setting religious text to syncopated music is sacrilegious or that seventies elevator music is offensive to the ears. One wonders why an Orthodox community which often adopts European folk costume as a sign of a religious commitment, has almost entirely discarded several hundred years of religious folk music.

But don't despair-for one small element of originality remains. Habitues of Orthodox wedding know that in an effort to get attention, costumes are often employed. Firemen's outfits, Hasidic garb, and high school soccer jerseys used in skits are representative of the genre. Complicating this mating ritual is the mechitza. But a talented dancer will win the attention of the prospective brides, and show virility and rebellion by refusing to honor the DJ's request to sit down. (That's right, we're not going to sit down for our plates of veal until we dance in a circle and scream 'oy yoy yoy' one more time!) So many weddings are held hostage to one unwanted classmate who constantly slams the table, defeaning relatives. Pray that you attend such festivities with one of the handful of break dancers in the Orthodox community or Badchanim.

The Badchan, a sort of MC who composed original verses and brought humor to every wedding, lived on in the likes of Mickey Katz (more on his music in an upcoming post) but now can only be seen in Haredi communities, with a few exceptions. Lipa Shmeltzer of the Skver Hasidim, the fellow who is pictured at the top on this webpage is perhaps the best known. Rumor is that Lipa mixes Yiddish satire with a taste of hip-hop; he has released some above average Jewish music albums.

Simcha Dancing, like most folk art, should have been learned as a member of a community. Perhaps my one encounter with dance lessons is to blame. It was 1991, and I was a fourth-grader attending a suburban St. Louis public school. Gym included sports like archery and square dancing, which meant I had to stuff my yarmulke in my pocket and hold hands with a girl (eww!) To this day, I remember such lyrics as 'swing your partner round and round...now dosi-do your own...on the trail of the lonesome pine.' One can only assume Washington Heights' finest elementary school dancers had a different experience with merengue in 'Mad Hot Ballroom.'

Readers are encouraged to share their stories and thoughts on whether simcha dancing could er...Rize from its humble beginnings and become a recognized art form.