| “Those who can’t dance say the music is no good.” –Jamaican Proverb |
If we begin to orient ourselves toward beauty, we may eventually question the distinction between music
and non-music. Noise is not considered music. But without noise there is no music. The best dancer can
penetrate every sound and hear the music in it. In the last section I mentioned the film by Sally Potter
called The Tango Lesson. In that movie we have a wonderful example of a breakdown in the distinction
between dancing and not dancing when the dancer Pablo Veron makes dinner for Sally Potter. The
distinction between dancing and not dancing gets broken down because he is obviously making dinner, and
he is obviously dancing. But this scene also breaks down the distinction between music and non-music,
because during that scene Pablo Veron jubilantly releases the music and rhythms latent in the ordinary
objects around him. He dances not just because he can see dancing in the act of making dinner, but also
because he can hear the music that permeates every space and every object--not just pots and pans, but
even lettuce, a kitchen knife, and his feet on the floor.
The composer John Cage once told an interviewer that early in his life he began to see every object as a
“sonic entity” with its own spirit. One of Cage’s most famous pieces is called 4'33". That composition
consists of a pianist who appears on stage and seats himself at a piano for 4 minutes and 33 seconds. The
pianist does not play any notes on the piano. But this is a definitely an instrumental work. The set of
instruments of this work includes the lungs of the man next to you who might be breathing loudly. It
includes the shoes of a woman two rows in front of you which shuffle on the floor as she crosses and
uncrosses her legs. Music comes from the chair you are sitting on as it creeks every time you shift
position. Music comes from a plane flying far above the building. 4'33" is a work that asks us to hear
music all around us.
In The Art of Flower Arranging, Thich Nhat Hanh tells of an artists’ retreat in Ojai, CA. Before one of his
lectures there was a presentation of a flower arrangement. It consisted of sawdust, egg shells, and banana
peels with flowers. Someone asked Thich Nhat Hanh if this display showed disrespect for the Buddha.
He said, “No, it shows the utmost respect. It shows you understand the dharma, and the Buddha would be
delighted to receive this arrangement.”
The lesson Thich Nhat Hanh would have us learn for the tango is twofold. First, receive the noise of life
with the same tenderness and gratitude as you receive music. This shares the spirit of the lesson Job
teaches us when he says, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" Second, we should
understand that if we really know how to handle music, the noise becomes transformed (and vice versa).
Whatever our level of technical dance proficiency, not knowing how to handle noise shows that we have
even more to learn about how to handle music. These are the most practical lessons we can learn from
questioning the distinction between music and non-music. But there are other lessons that apply just as
obviously to tango.
For instance, I have had people say to me, “Tango may be fun to learn, but when am I ever going to use
it?” Of course, such people don’t realize there are regular tango dances all over America and Europe.
Worse yet, they have usually decided tango is something eccentric, when in fact tango is everywhere. By
practicing mindfully, we discover that the rewards of tango reveal themselves in many kinds of music. We
can dance tango to Sinatra tunes, to country songs, and to popular ballads by adapting our dancing to the
character of the music. Even more valuable than that are the rewards of tango that reveal themselves in our
everyday movements and in the way we behave at home. People can suddenly hear a danceable rhythm in
the vacuum cleaner, and the noise becomes transformed, as does the activity of vacuuming. Sometimes a
husband will see his wife in the kitchen and suddenly become seized by tango. He hears music in his head,
and he grabs her, humming and dancing. Many a marriage has been saved by social dance.
I have had students complain of not being able to “get” tango music, not feeling it, or not understanding
how to connect to it. But understanding music constitutes part of the learning process rather than standing
as a prerequisite. A related problem is that beginning students either try too hard or not hard enough to
dance with the music. Those who don’t try hard enough are not really dancing, because they are not
connected with a fundamental part of the dance. It is better to keep with the music while moving slowly
and deliberately, rather than trying to “do the step” any old way you can. Tango is not steps. It is a
manifestation of the musical nature of the human soul. On the other side of things, some students place too
much emphasis on the beats of tango, listening so hard for them that they miss the lyrical facets that give the
dance its sparkle. In both cases–in all cases–putting the control outside of our limited ego can expand the
possibilities and help us to arrive at a truly joyful experience no matter what level of complexity our
footwork has achieved. As we let go of the distinction between music and non-music, and let that guide us
further and further, we become increasingly peaceful and engaged in the dance. Then we begin to
accomplish the ultimate: we begin to dance the silence at the heart of every sound.
and non-music. Noise is not considered music. But without noise there is no music. The best dancer can
penetrate every sound and hear the music in it. In the last section I mentioned the film by Sally Potter
called The Tango Lesson. In that movie we have a wonderful example of a breakdown in the distinction
between dancing and not dancing when the dancer Pablo Veron makes dinner for Sally Potter. The
distinction between dancing and not dancing gets broken down because he is obviously making dinner, and
he is obviously dancing. But this scene also breaks down the distinction between music and non-music,
because during that scene Pablo Veron jubilantly releases the music and rhythms latent in the ordinary
objects around him. He dances not just because he can see dancing in the act of making dinner, but also
because he can hear the music that permeates every space and every object--not just pots and pans, but
even lettuce, a kitchen knife, and his feet on the floor.
The composer John Cage once told an interviewer that early in his life he began to see every object as a
“sonic entity” with its own spirit. One of Cage’s most famous pieces is called 4'33". That composition
consists of a pianist who appears on stage and seats himself at a piano for 4 minutes and 33 seconds. The
pianist does not play any notes on the piano. But this is a definitely an instrumental work. The set of
instruments of this work includes the lungs of the man next to you who might be breathing loudly. It
includes the shoes of a woman two rows in front of you which shuffle on the floor as she crosses and
uncrosses her legs. Music comes from the chair you are sitting on as it creeks every time you shift
position. Music comes from a plane flying far above the building. 4'33" is a work that asks us to hear
music all around us.
In The Art of Flower Arranging, Thich Nhat Hanh tells of an artists’ retreat in Ojai, CA. Before one of his
lectures there was a presentation of a flower arrangement. It consisted of sawdust, egg shells, and banana
peels with flowers. Someone asked Thich Nhat Hanh if this display showed disrespect for the Buddha.
He said, “No, it shows the utmost respect. It shows you understand the dharma, and the Buddha would be
delighted to receive this arrangement.”
The lesson Thich Nhat Hanh would have us learn for the tango is twofold. First, receive the noise of life
with the same tenderness and gratitude as you receive music. This shares the spirit of the lesson Job
teaches us when he says, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" Second, we should
understand that if we really know how to handle music, the noise becomes transformed (and vice versa).
Whatever our level of technical dance proficiency, not knowing how to handle noise shows that we have
even more to learn about how to handle music. These are the most practical lessons we can learn from
questioning the distinction between music and non-music. But there are other lessons that apply just as
obviously to tango.
For instance, I have had people say to me, “Tango may be fun to learn, but when am I ever going to use
it?” Of course, such people don’t realize there are regular tango dances all over America and Europe.
Worse yet, they have usually decided tango is something eccentric, when in fact tango is everywhere. By
practicing mindfully, we discover that the rewards of tango reveal themselves in many kinds of music. We
can dance tango to Sinatra tunes, to country songs, and to popular ballads by adapting our dancing to the
character of the music. Even more valuable than that are the rewards of tango that reveal themselves in our
everyday movements and in the way we behave at home. People can suddenly hear a danceable rhythm in
the vacuum cleaner, and the noise becomes transformed, as does the activity of vacuuming. Sometimes a
husband will see his wife in the kitchen and suddenly become seized by tango. He hears music in his head,
and he grabs her, humming and dancing. Many a marriage has been saved by social dance.
I have had students complain of not being able to “get” tango music, not feeling it, or not understanding
how to connect to it. But understanding music constitutes part of the learning process rather than standing
as a prerequisite. A related problem is that beginning students either try too hard or not hard enough to
dance with the music. Those who don’t try hard enough are not really dancing, because they are not
connected with a fundamental part of the dance. It is better to keep with the music while moving slowly
and deliberately, rather than trying to “do the step” any old way you can. Tango is not steps. It is a
manifestation of the musical nature of the human soul. On the other side of things, some students place too
much emphasis on the beats of tango, listening so hard for them that they miss the lyrical facets that give the
dance its sparkle. In both cases–in all cases–putting the control outside of our limited ego can expand the
possibilities and help us to arrive at a truly joyful experience no matter what level of complexity our
footwork has achieved. As we let go of the distinction between music and non-music, and let that guide us
further and further, we become increasingly peaceful and engaged in the dance. Then we begin to
accomplish the ultimate: we begin to dance the silence at the heart of every sound.
| Beginner's Mind Tango |
| Dangerous Dualities: Music and Non-music |
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| By Nickolas Knightly |
| Nickolas Knightly Alexander Technique, Argentine Tango, and Sutainability Resources Based in San Francisco, CA and serving the Bay Area and beyond. |