“I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor…”

I do most of my swing dancing in Sheffield, South Yorkshire—proud home of British steel, a hub of the Industrial Revolution and birthplace of Arctic Monkeys, whose 2005 hit single lends its name to this piece. Now, the Arctics aren’t a jazz band—their thumping indie rock bangers are more reminiscent of Sheffield’s steel-beating steam hammers of old. But I often find myself nearly-naming their aforementioned hit (replace “look” with “feel”) when trying to coax some of my Lindy Hop students out after class. “Come to the social,” I implore. “Come and try out what you’ve learned!” But too often the answer is “No,” followed by “I’ll feel silly,” or “I don’t know enough steps,” or “I’ve only had one lesson” or somesuch tosh—as if dancing is something you’re only allowed to do if you’re already good at it. (Have they never been to a wedding?) What they don’t yet understand is that dance classes only teach so much. Steps, they can show you—rhythm, connection and flow, less so. What’s more, practicing swing dance (unlike learning piano scales or working on your core strength) is just about the most fun to be had practicing anything. The “practice” is both the means and the end and should be enjoyable, however (in)experienced the dancer. Hot Jam Atlanta, a week