WEBSITE: www.newtimemusic.com
LOCATION: Austin, TX
RECORDS: 8
LATEST RECORD: 9 months ago
JOINED: March 11, 2010
LOCATION: Austin, TX
RECORDS: 8
LATEST RECORD: 9 months ago
JOINED: March 11, 2010
jdavidson's Featured RECords
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- New Time Collaboratorium - Drums
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Despite its near universal popularity, the modern dance move known as "the Running Man," has an obscure history that has, until recently, remained hidden from its many practitioners. The origins of this simple yet elegant step are connected to the very personal misfortune and pubic humiliation of one Johnny Diamond, a competitive jig and reel dancer who reached the height of his fame in the early 1840s. Around this time, Diamond began staging challenge dances, or "dance-offs," in which he would dare any man to best him in a contest of skill. Promoters would advertise the challenges in New York City's largest newspapers, wagering up to $1,000 per match. Diamond won contest after contest; his fame and fortune grew until he was known up and down the east coast as the "King of Diamonds"—the greatest dancer in the world. But unbeknownst to Diamond, a young man by the name of William Henry Lane was also making a name for himself, not only as a dancer but also as a master parodist; he would imitate the most popular dancers of the day and finish his shows by mimicking the most famous dancer of all—Johnny Diamond. News of Lane's growing reputation soon reached Diamond, who challenged him to a "dance-off" in New York's famed Chatham Street Theatre. According to a written account in the New York Daily Express, Diamond began the highly publicized contest "cool and resolute," but soon began dancing, "like a crazed devil, a man possessed," as Lane calmly replicated—and improved upon—each move Diamond put forth. Among the observers present was none other than Charles Dickens, who was in the United States gathering material for his travelogue, "American Notes for General Circulation" (1842). His description of Lane's style is among the most detailed in the historical record: "Single shuffle, double shuffle, cut and cross-cut; snapping his fingers, turning in his knees, presenting the backs of his legs in the front, spinning about on his toes and heels like nothing but the man's finger's on a tambourine; dancing with two left legs, two right legs, two wooden legs, two wire legs, two spring legs—all sorts of legs and no legs—what is this to him?" As the contest wore on, it became clear that Diamond had met his match. After Lane performed a particularly devastating imitation of one of his signature moves, Diamond cried out, "Enough! Enough! I am bested!" and ran out of the theatre. Amid the commotion that ensued, Lane, ever the parodist, commenced a curious movement that visually reproduced Diamond's sprint off stage—yet Lane himself stayed in place. An undated clipping from The New York Herald describes the first iteration of what would later be known as the Running Man: "[...] His arms pumping and circling furiously, his knees rising and falling sharply, his face contorted in cruel imitation of his rival's agony, Lane gave every appearance and gesture of running off the stage right behind the vanquished Diamond. And yet it was an illusion, a veritable sleight-of-hand, for by sliding his foot back each time it hit the floor, first the right and then the left, in rapid succession, he managed to remain fixed to the same spot, running in place as it were, to the great amusement and bewilderment of the crowd." After this spectacular humiliation, Johnny Diamond was never known to dance again and died in obscurity. Despite his achievement, Lane's career also declined quickly and he died some years later in London, penniless and all but forgotten. But Lane secured a lasting legacy by inventing, in a few lightening-quick steps, a dance move that would, some 15 decades later, all but define a generation of dance enthusiasts. The Running Man, as it came to be known, was inaugurated at the very moment of Diamond's defeat and Lane's triumph. Little did they know that the impromptu step was destined to encapsulate many triumphs—some great but most of them small—for dancers and non-dancers alike. Over time, the Running Man became, quite simply, the move that one did when, like John Diamond and William Lane, one could do nothing else. |
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Raw video footage of Seattle, driving down I-5. Might be useful for b-roll in the Cities collaboration somewhere.
