It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing (doowop x4)

My senior year in high school through my freshman year in college I was a card-carrying, t-shirt-wearing member of the San Antonio Swing Dance Society (SASDS). Weekly, I went to group swing dance lessons taught by SASDS at one of the universities in San Antonio, and most mondays I went to Sam's Burger Joint for their weekly swing/ rockabilly night.

You see, I was a bit into the style and music of generations that far preceded the decade I was living in, and towards the end of my junior year in high school I began to embrace my fondness for the 'greaser' and swing culture. I wore Converse All-Stars with my Levi's 505's rolled up a few inches, styled my hair in a pompadour (if you're not familiar, think Grease, or Crybaby) using Murray's Superior pomade, carried a comb in my back pocket, and, when weather permitted wore a leather biker jacket or a Dickies work jacket. Plain white t-shirts were my thing, and since I didn't smoke I toyed with the idea of rolling up a pack of gum in my sleeve rather than a box of cigarettes (this, I decided, would be a ridiculous idea). To prom I wore a pinstripe suit with spectator (wing-tip, two-tone) shoes.

This is no lie.

In college, however, I realized that throughout high school and even into college I defined myself too much by the clothes I wore, the music I listened to, and the people I hung out with. I defined myself as a 'punk' because I hung out with the punks and listened to punk music. Later I defined myself as a 'greaser' for the very same reasons. None of this, I don't feel, is too intrinsically wrong, but it often leads to, I found, being too exclusive in the type of people I associated with (a topic I kind of touched on two posts back). So, towards the end of my firs year in college I gave much of this up; I cut off my beautiful hair, stopped going to shows, and started wearing whatever I felt to be  comfortable. It was very freeing. But I'm not going to lie- many of my favorite memories from those years were hanging out with my friends at punk shows, dancing at rockabilly shows, and the attention I got from old women when they saw my hair and stopped me in public to examine and ask questions about it.

Since then, it has been years since I have gone swing dancing on any sort of consistent basis, but the I still get the urge every so often to cut a rug. This past week was one of those weeks.

Thursday night I rounded up some friends to go out to the Green Mill Cocktail Lounge. It is the oldest Jazz club in Chicago, and used to be the stomping grounds of one  Al Capone. Every Thursday night the Green Mill features an 18-piece big band, and, though the dance floor is small (I mean, really small), people are not hesitant to get out there and start dancing. So, for the first time in close to two years I got to get out there and boned-up on my Jitterbug.

Dang, I need to get out there and do it more often. Though I do not care to bring back my rockabilly image/attempted lifestyle (it just takes too much time and energy to try to impress people with your hair and clothes), I definitely think I need to get back into dancing more regularly.

So today I am making vow- at least one Thursday night a month I will be found at the Green Mill. Whether by myself or accompanied by friends, I will be there, remembering the good 'ol days and creating my own sense of a swing-revival in my heart.

Duke Ellington had it right in 1931 when he sang that 'it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing'.

True Story.