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Clogging

(from an article by Marilyn Devin in Folk Dance Scene Magazine)

Also called "Hillbilly Tapdancing," clogging is an authentic and distinctive form of American folk dance. Clogging has roots that reach back to our Scots-Irish and European heritage; yet at the same time, the clogging that's performed and enjoyed across the United States today has such a contemporary feel that even teenage kids have been known to desert MTV and hustle down to the school auditorium for an evening's dancing.

If you've ever seen a group of enthusiastic cloggers kicking up their heels, you probably haven't forgotten it. You'll have noticed, among other things, that cloggers don't look like the little dolls that dance out of cuckoo clock windows in pigtails and aprons; unless they're performing in a show, they dress like any other casual dancer. When cloggers do wear costumes, their clothes are something like square dance attire: typical for the women are ginghams tops or peasant blouses; the skirts are full, frequently with crinolines, and somewhat shorter than the usual square dance outfits; for men, it's jeans, plaid shirts, and maybe string ties or some other such Western touch.

The Leader, or "Cuer"

Modern clogging numbers are typically done as set routines, choreographed to well-known songs. Like the ethnic folk dances that readers of Folk Dance Scene are familiar with, everyone in the hall dances the same steps at the same time - this is called "precision" clogging (as opposed to "freestyle" or improvisation). Unlike most ethnic folk dancing but like square dancing, in clogging there is normally a leader who stands at the front of the hall with a microphone and calls out the steps. In square dancing, this individual is a "caller." In clogging, he or she is known as a "cuer." Cuers are almost always teachers as well; they come equipped with all the tapes, speakers and other sound system paraphernalia they need for their engagements.

Music: It Takes All Kinds

One of the best things about today's clogging is that you can do it to so many different kinds of music: hillbilly, Cajun, Irish, boogie woogie, rhythm & blues, rock. These days, the huge success of country music has made it easy for "clogeographers" to create new dances to the biggest top 40 hits. In the clogging world new dances are being created and introduced all the time. A few of the hottest clog routines created in recent years, for instance, have been "Down at the Twist and Shout," "Bad," "Ghostbusters," and "That's What I Like About You," as well as dozens of other dances to hits by artists such as Garth Brooks, The Judds, and Paula Abdul

Newly-choreographed dances are usually introduced and taught in workshops at the annual regional clogging conventions. The various dance groups and their teacher/cuers then carry the new material back to the other local dancers. You might think this constant infusion of new routines would be disconcerting; but since clogging steps are always called out by the cuer, there really isn't a problem. During the course of the evening, it's customary for the cuer to announce whether the upcoming number will be easy, intermediate or advanced; as long as you're familiar with the various steps at that level, you can follow along even if a particular routine is one you've never done before. If there's a unique step or a tricky combination in the dance, cuers will usually raise everybody's comfort level by running through just that part of the dance before turning on the music.

Where Does Clogging Come From?

Unlike square and contra dancing, whose lineage can clearly be traced to England and France, the dance form we know today as clogging probably springs from a blend of several sources, with very little agreement about the extent of the contributions made by different national groups. It is fairly well-accepted, however, that one of the primary roots of clogging must be the folk dance of the British Isles, starting with the Irish jig.

As long ago as Saint Patrick's time - the fifth century - cultural historians believe the Irish pagans were enjoying lively "step dances," primitive versions of what came to be known as the Irish jig. "Step dancing" - a broader classification than clogging - usually means a kind of dance where attention is focused on the legs and feet, the movements of which keep time and accentuate the beat of the music. In Irish step dancing, the dancer kept his arms glued to his sides, and held his head and torso erect - almost wooden - while all the dancing took place below the hips. The feet of an expert doing an Irish jig moved faster than the eye could follow, in an intricate pattern of heel, toe, step, kick and scuff movements that are reputed to have tapped the floor as many as 15 times per second.

Although fast, repetitive tapping was an essential element of the Irish jig, it was traditionally performed with very light steps and soft shoes. Indeed, it wouldn't have been possible to execute those staccato patterns in anything but light, slipper-like footwear. Nevertheless, we know that at some point the jig gave birth to another dance performed in a heavier kind of shoe - the Irish clog dance. The same kinds of steps found in the "soft jig" were adapted by dancers with heavier, noisier, harder-soled footwear. What was sacrificed in speed and lightness may have been compensated for by the addition of the "shoe music" - the percussive use of the feet and shoes as a musical instrument. (Today, this dance is known as a "hard jig" or "double jig"; the shoes have a stiffly built-up patch of leather at the toe end of the sole, sometimes with metal nails or brads hammered in, but they don't actually have steel plates or taps like the ones cloggers or tap dancers wear.)

Wooden shoes were, of course, also worn by peasants and artisans in many parts of northern Europe - Belgium, Holland, and France. From those nations, too, came dances that create their own percussive accompaniment that may have emigrated to North America; to French Canada, for example, where clog dancing is well-known. This only leads to further speculation though, since in a general sense any historical dance involving foot stamping - the Portugese fado, for instance, or the Spanish zapateado, which were frequently performed atop the tables in cafes - could be considered a precursor of today's clog dancing and tap dancing.

Of special interest for purposes of our story, however, was a particular kind of wooden shoe that made its appearance, not in the boggy countryside of Ireland or in northern Europe, but in the English steel mills in the mid-18th century during the industrial revolution. The story goes that in Lancashire, England, dancing in these heavy clogs became a popular pastime among the steel mill workers. Competitions came to be held to see who could generate the greatest variety of sounds and rhythms in these clogs. The dance was performed on cobblestones, and was a lot like a jig in that the upper body stayed motionless while the legs and feet did all the work of the dance.

The "Lancashire Clog," as it became better known, attracted bigger audiences. The competition grew intense. The dancers finally realized that the heavy wooden clogs on their feet were a hindrance to faster footwork, so they switched to leather which provided some flexibility (and was safer, too). To make up for the sound volume lost with the wooden soles, someone came up with the bright idea of nailing coppy pennies to the toe and heel.

Imported to the United States, the "Lancashire Clog" became the grandaddy of tap dancing. It was featured in U. S. theatres as early as 1840, and took American audiences by storm; there were soon as many styles and spin-offs of clog dancing as there were performers, including the variation that abandoned the percussive footwear altogether to become known as the "soft shoe."

Clogging in the U.S.A.

Irish and English clog dancing and their American derivatives continued to evolve in this country throughout the 19th and into the early 20th century, in vaudeville, minstrel shows and the various other tent shows, road shows and touring companies that travelled the length and breadth of the States.

Once it was established in this country, what had started out as clog dancing received its next biggest contributions from African Americans. The rich African dance heritage, nurtured and encouraged for the entertainment of white society during the years of slavery, blossomed anew as many more blacks headed for the cities after emancipa- tion. The infusion of black styles and rhythms gave clogging two dance elements it had thus far lacked: syncopation and body movement.

By the turn of the 20th century, all these influences had culminated in what we know today as tap dancing. Famous early tap dancers are still among the most revered legendary figures in the history of show business: George M. Cohan, Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, etc.

While clog dancing was undergoing its transformation within the mainstream of American popular culture, the same Irish-Scots dance heritage was also thriving in more remote sections of our young nation. Dance historians tells us that in the Appalachian Mountains, descendants of the Irish, English and Scots settlers kept the Irish jig, Scots Highlander and other step-type dances alive in forms that didn't deviate quite so far from the "original."

We know that square and round dancing were the most universal dances done by country folk in 19th century America, and their history is fairly well-documented. Where, then, did clogging fit in? Well, it's a common occurence at informal dances in any society for young people to want to get out on the floor and show off; in the Appalachians it was apparently no different. It seems that whenever there was a town dance - at corn husking time, at christenings, barn raisings, church socials, or whatever - during the breaks between sets or at the end of the evening when the regular guests left the floor, it was the custom for the younger, more exuberant crowd to take over. It must have been these energetic souls that preserved the old clog and jig styles, doubtlessly with plenty of their own personal touches thrown in.

Though they had some common roots, the steps these Appalachian virtuosos did were only remotely related to the new, syncopated, sophisticated kind of dance that was coming into its own among professional minstrels and vaudeville entertainers. Compared to the new tap dancing, clogging was becoming the country cousin. (That's how clogging comes to be better-described as a relative not of square dancing, but of tapdancing.)

What we know today as clogging is the heir to these "purer," personalized and regionalized step-type dances. As recently as twenty years ago cloggers had not yet developed a common terminology - for the basic steps or even for the dance form itself. When cloggers in rural areas of the Southeastern United States travelled over the mountains or into the next state, they might or might not recognize the local steps. Clogging wasn't even necesarily called clogging in all regions; it was known variously as flat-footing, foot-stomping, buck dancing, jigging, and other local terms.

In 1927, in Asheville, North Carolina, a lawyer and cultural historian named Bascom Lamar Lunsford founded an ambitious folk arts festival - the Mountain Dance and Folk Festival - where he planned to gather and preserve Southern American music and dance. In 1938, at Lunsford's annual festival, a group with a unique style won the dance competition. This group - Sam Queen's Soco Gap Dance Team - didn't do square dance steps at all. In fact, cloggers today recognize Sam Queens team as the first official cloggers.

After World War II, clogging was positioned to hitch a ride on the coattails of square dancing, which became the national craze in this country throughout the 1950's. From movies to radio to the record store, and from stars like Bing Crosby to Roy Rogers, everybody was going square dance crazy. Wherever square dance festivals and jamborees were held, there would naturally be a place to feature exhibition dancers, and often as not, those fancy steppers would be doing clogging steps.

On a more local, neighborhood level, square dances were held wherever folks could find a hall, a fiddler and a caller. As the ranks of square dancers grew, there was a natural interest in expanding the repertoire of steps and styles. Like their predecessors in Appalachia, there invariably seemed to be someone who knew a few clogging steps and was only too glad to show them off during the breaks between sets. It's from these clogging interludes and demonstrations - professional and amateur, formal and informal - that today's clogging eventually spread from coast to coast and beyond.

The North Texas Irish Festival is a production of the Southwest Celtic Music Association