So You Thought You Could Dance, I

Recall the raison d'etre of this blog, those who are not fans of this show. Recall it and weep.

After realizing with horror last week that I'd been missing what I feel is the best "reality/contest TV" show ever, I tuned in Wednesday night to what I thought couldn't possibly be as good as I'd remembered.

And of course, it wasn't. It was like a million-billion times better. [High-pitched, girly squealing here.]

Right off the bat, I identified a B-girl, which is my favorite kind of SYTYCD (I'll use SYD for short) dancer. She didn't impress in the main dancing, but she was one of the only dancers who didn't. I mean, honestly. What is it with these people and their mad dance skillz.

Here's my brief apologetic for SYD: It's on in the summer, when reality/contest TV shows should be on; it highlights an activity that's interesting to watch and not just to listen to (unlike American Idol, which could in theory be just as well off on radio, if being an attractive singer weren't so much part of the contest); it features a rotating cast of judges who bring different kinds of cattiness to the process of "judging"; the choreographers for different styles of dance rotate, bringing different sensibilities to the routines every week -- and unlike the American Idol penchant for bringing in celebrity singers who seem to be around only to supervise the singing of their songs, these choreographers are also being judged for their work. (But unlike in Project Runway, they don't actually get eliminated on the show for shoddy choreography. They just never show up again.)

Each routine on this week's show struck me like each song on my latest, most successful mix CD to date -- I watched each couple thinking "I love this; I'm going to be so disappointed when this is over" and then loving the next one just as much.

My favorite by far, though, was the narrative "wife doesn't want businessman husband to leave but he goes anyway, after a fight" hip-hop routine.

I loved the contemporary bench routine with Travis and Heidi two years ago; I love-loved this routine.

The song was "Bleeding Love" by Leona Lewis, which I like despite all the better judgment with which I've ever been equipped. I like this song in a play-it-really-loud-in-your-car-at-a-red-light kind of way. I like it like sing-along-as-though-you're-a-less-slutty-version-of-Mariah-Carey. That is to say, I like it with the sort of teen-girl-squad abandon with which people are supposed to like these kinds of songs. (I'm a tool of the recording industry.)

Part of the appeal, of course, is the ballad-like narrative feel -- who doesn't love a dance they feel they can understand? -- but for me, the main portion of my love goes to the contrasts. "Bleeding Love" is a ballad, but an female-singer-R&B-type ballad, and choosing it for a hip-hop routine was unconventional, I thought...but it was the sort of unconventional that, as soon as it's suggested, makes people hit their foreheads and exclaim "Of course! How could it be otherwise?"

The hip-hop-style movement expresses angst better than contemporary ever could, even in the case of the bench routine, which seemed wishy-washy in comparison.

I love B-girls, like I've said -- though breakdancing guys don't appeal as much (again, contrast is key -- no one expects a breakdancing girl) -- and I love pop-and-lockers, but those styles aren't as versatile as straight-out hip-hop.

"It's really the dance of modern life," I found myself thinking. No other style gets the mechanisms of industrial society worked in to movement. No other style expresses the kind of intense anxiety of the post-cold-war era. It's no mistake that hip-hop was created and popularized (like all truly American song and dance styles, with folk exceptions) by a minority subculture. It's no mistake that that subculture includes a history of suffering. This is a dance that understands pain.

I haven't gotten the names of contestants down yet, but the girl who danced this routine was so expressive that I actually believed she was going to cry on stage. I realized when it was over that I had leaned toward the television with concern, my face frozen in anxiety for her.

Luckily, I was alone and didn't need to explain my embarrassing level of empathetic engagement to anyone. (Though I did glance around my living room just to make sure.)

Nigel pointed out that he really loved how choreographers over the years had evolved hip-hop routines to include "lyrical hip-hop," which is what this was. I agree. This is the kind of contrast that I love. This is what keeps me coming back for more.

I mean, contrast is the whole reason to watch the show, for me.

I'm a terrible dancer.