The dance spread quickly thanks to the music of Count Basie, Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller. In the 1930s, dancers introduced the “airsteps” — acrobatics in which the man throws his partner over his head or between his legs. By the early 1940s, ballrooms across America were hosting regular Lindy Hop competitions. Swing was the pop music of its day, and Lindy Hop the way you enjoyed it.
The scene changed after World War II: the US government put a tax on dancing clubs, so tables and chairs took the place of couples on dancefloors. Rock ’n’ roll and bebop took over, and things only picked up again in the 1980s, in the clubs of New York. “Back then, if you’d said Lindy Hop, you’d have had half a dozen people who knew what it was,” says Selmon. He was learning rock ’n’ roll dances when, in 1986, his instructor suggested some new moves and a trip to the swing clubs of New York. On his return to London, Selmon set up the London Swing Dance Society. Four years later, he was teaching so much dancing he decided to take a year off his day job buying and selling antique jewelery. “That was 19 years ago,” he says. “It’s been a very long year.”
Back in the class, Selmon starts people off on the basic footwork, and adds a few turns. It’s not that difficult to learn. “You need about three months to feel comfortable then, if you want to refine it, it probably takes about a year,” he says. “You only need a dozen steps to happily dance socially all night long.”
For the first three lessons, I stared at my feet as I jerked (I don’t want to say danced) awkwardly around the floor. For the next three weeks, I was still mouthing the names of the moves, and keeping time very consciously in my head. It took around four months before I could think about leading someone for even half a song. But many of the people who started with me progressed much more quickly; my problem was that I didn’t practice enough.
One thirtysomething Londoner has come alone to Selmon’s class. “It’s something to do other than drinking all night,” he says. Another woman says she dragged her boyfriend along six months ago after coming to classes by herself for a few months. Now he’s also hooked, and they dance three or four times a week.
Lindy Hop’s appeal is easy to understand: it’s a joyous dance. “Many of the pioneers of Lindy Hop grew up in the economic depression of the 1920s and 30s, and dance was escapism, a way to forget your troubles and have fun,” says Selmon. Economic depression is not, it seems, the only thing 2009 shared with the 1920s. Eighty years later, the Lindy Hop is no longer consigned to dance history — but may just be the social dance of the future.
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