Getting Gigs

Thank you Tina for posing this question. I think it speaks to many of the issues we will have to deal with if this folk tradition is to continue to grow and to evolve.

I have been on both sides of this issue. I know that there are some venues where I will probably never get booked to call. This evolves from both petty politics and differing personal visions of what and whom the series is intended for. Some of us are simply working toward different goals.

I have also booked bands and callers for small venues. Like you I am also troubled by your programmer friend's assessment that the purpose of "tiny venues" is to provide a place for new callers to practice and develop their skills. In my programming effort I worked very hard to overcome this perception. When a caller views any dance as a small and insignificant gig they will tend to treat the dancers that way. This is precisely the attitude small venues should work to exclude from their programs.

The "tiny venues" offer some of the most challenging gigs for callers. Booking new callers in such venues, which often hold dances only once each month, can be deadly for the reputation of the series. With only 10 or 11 dances each year the memory of a bad night is difficult to overcome. The small venues need to work much harder to insure that skilled and confident callers with a positive attitude are booked for every evening.

Contrast this with an urban series that holds dances weekly. With 50 dances a year they can risk giving a few evenings to aspiring callers. Next week will probably be quite different. In addition the larger venues are, in fact, much easier to call successfully. A new caller in a larger venue can marshal the support of the many regulars and integrate the newcomers into the community much more easily. The large venues are the easy gigs.

It is ironic that many of our most "successful" and experienced callers are seldom ever booked for the smaller, and more challenging, venues. Instead many of them are almost constantly calling for larger groups of experienced dancers. This encourages sloppy calling, since the experienced dancers can adapt to imprecise calls and poor teaching. I have seen nationally known callers who were inept at integrating lots of newcomers at a small venue. If we really wanted to promote this dance form we would be putting our best callers and bands before new dancers whenever possible. Perhaps some kind of stipend to send experienced callers to small venues would be in order.

In my programming I found that there were some callers I would avoid booking. Some of these were experienced callers whom I felt were either not able, or were not inclined, to create the gracious and generous atmosphere that was a central part of the vision of our series. I am sure that some of them are still resentful of being passed over. For that I am sorry. We needed callers who would treat everyone in the hall with a high level of courtesy and respect. They needed to have the confidence to take full responsibility for any problems in the hall--and not do anything that could be interpreted as an indication that the caller holds the dancers responsible. They also needed to have the skills for integrating newcomers seamlessly into the community with minimal teaching.

I occasionally booked new callers. New callers were often much more open to suggestions and were more willing to modify their style to fit the vision of our series. With a little coaching some new callers were able to meet our expectations. The critical quality was having confidence in, and a high regard for, all of the dancers--whatever their skill level.

It is part of the curse of calling that we will often have to travel long distances to gigs. Even the country's most loved callers and bands are less respected and appreciated in their hometown.

In order to gain some level of name recognition callers must promote themselves constantly. The downside of this is that many callers become less able to take responsibility for problems in the hall because they don't want to be seen as incompetent…and so they blame the dancers. We need to educate both callers and programmers to the fact that taking full responsibility for the hall is a mark of professionalism and confidence. Blaming dancers will always make the caller's job more difficult and the evening less enjoyable for all.

Callers often try to distinguish themselves with memorable dance formations, figures, or medleys. This, unfortunately, seems to work well in larger venues where experienced dancers will remember, with glee, the caller who tried that triple-progression medley with the crossover square in the center of the room--danced to a blues song--even if it took a half hour to teach and get it right. This kind of thing is not appreciated so much at small venues.

Please do not bring a "new dance" to small venues in order to "try it out" before you debut it at a big festival. You have it backwards. The festivals are where you should try out new dances to see how they work--and festivals should encourage this. Once you have the kinks worked out in that more tolerant venue you can introduce it at a small venue…but please not before.

New callers have an advantage in being more flexible and open to suggestion. You can also increase your calling gigs by avoiding some of the big festivals and making yourself available during those times when most other callers are out of town. On the whole, however, getting gigs is a continuing effort. Like anything the more you call--all other things being equal--the better you get. Good luck!

I also apologize for the length of this post.  Good topic!

Greg McKenzie







*****

At 11:25 PM 8/17/2008, you wrote:
Hi folks ­

I seem to have hit an interesting wall in my newish calling
career, and would love to know your thoughts and strategies
about how best to deal with it.  I’ve been calling contra
for two years, the first year learning through guest spots,
classes, and half-dances. Since last November I’ve called
full dances, averaging 2-3 dances/month, mostly contras
with a few barn dances.

My problem is this:  I’m having trouble getting a couple of
our local programmers to book me.

In their defense, we do have a lot of good callers around
here vying for the few slots. And one of our local
programmers is trying to run a consistently high-powered
dance, booking many world-class callers and bands.  I have
never asked her about calling that dance, and in fact
aspire to become a caller she seeks out some day in the
future.

But the other dances are a different story. The one that
prompted me to reach out to you here is a medium-sized
hometown type dance featuring lots of different callers and
bands.  I dance there often; it’s one of my home venues.  I
have called one half-dance there, to great reviews from
both the dancers and the other caller. The band said they
enjoyed working with me too.  Unfortunately, the programmer
was away at a camp that evening. He has only seen me call
guest spots ­ all of which he says he thoroughly enjoyed ­
but only one full evening elsewhere, and here’s the rub:
wit wasn’t my best evening.  It was a special 4-hour dance,
the longest gig I’ve ever done solo. I made a few minor
mistakes. And the band was a primarily English band ­ which
meant very nice music, but mild, not at all zesty.

The programmer in question is a friend of mine in the
dancing community. We’re fond of each other as both dance
partners and people. When I realized he might not be asking
me to call his dance because he doesn’t think I’m a good
enough caller, it felt devastating.  But I got up the guts
to approach him at the end of last night’s dance after the
fiddler, notorious for his curmudgeonly pickiness, asked
when I was calling next and announced that he and his
girlfriend are my ‘biggest fans’.  (I was quite floored,
and grateful. An ego boost can do wonders at moments like
that.)  So I approached the programmer.  “Can I ask you a
question?” I asked. “I don’t know if I want to answer,” he
replied, looking very nervous and obviously knowing what
was coming. “Well, I’m gonna ask it anyway,” I told him,
and took his arm as we walked away from the others in the
room.   “If, as I now suspect, you don’t like the way I
call, what is it about it you don’t like so I can work on
improving that?”  He looked relieved then, and was kind
enough to respond very honestly.

He named a number of things he hadn’t liked about the one
full dance he’d been at. He gave the hairy eyeball to my
inclusion of a particular mixer.  He also said at one point
in a contra, one knot of folks was having trouble and I
came down on the floor to help them, but that left the rest
of them floundering awhile with no prompting. His memory
was astounding ­ I don’t remember that at all. Perhaps I
didn’t think anything of it at the time, or perhaps I was
even proud of myself for being able to then get back up on
the stool and call to everyone correctly after helping like
that. I definitely still have a LOT to learn.  I believe
the biggest mistake he pointed out (and rightly) was that I
didn’t seem perfectly familiar with how to teach one of the
dances, and dancers had to ask a question to clarify. It’s
likely true: I try to call one dance that’s new to me each
evening, in order to expand my repertoire, and every time I
call one I seem to learn some new nuance about how to lead
it better.

He said he therefore thinks I need more practice. I
heartily agreed with that, and then pointed out that the
way to get it is by having gigs that allow me to do more
calling!  He then said that that’s what the tiny venues are
for.

But I feel troubled by this answer. I’ve been calling those
venues, and will gladly continue to.  However, it seems to
me that if a caller is only exposed to small halls
half-full of beginners, s/he will learn to call to that
level very well, but not to call dances appropriate for
more advanced dancers. How will I ever gain that skill if
I’m not given the chance to try it? It’s a catch-22.  These
venues also often book very inexperienced bands, who don’t
know what I’m talking about when I try to discuss pairing
dances/tunes. So I have ideas of how I’d like to become a
better caller, but these circumstances are keeping me from
achieving that.

I also strongly believe that it’s every dance
organization’s responsibility to foster new talent, if they
want the group to stay alive. My local group has acted on
this seriously in the past, in fact giving me and others
matching scholarships to go to CDSS camp’s calling classes.
(In my case, perhaps they figured out I wasn’t going to go
away, so it was in their best interest to help me learn to
do it better. <g>)  What’s happening now, though, is that
I’ve hit some sort of glass ceiling. I’m like in my calling
adolescence: no longer the cute beginner but also not yet a
rock star. If given the opportunity to call at a more
high-powered gig, I will not be perfect at it, no. But I
will get better and better, given the chance.

Hearing some programmers talk about callers and bands, I
have the sense now that a problematic gig like the one
Chris described in his recent ‘growth’ post could be a
death sentence around here. That caller might never be
invited back.

My experience of hitting a wall didn’t only happen that one
time. Earlier this month, trying to be proactive, I
inquired about potentially calling at a venue a bit more
than one hour from my home, another medium-sized/level
dance I’ve danced at many times in the past but not
recently. That programmer asked the very good question,
‘what sort of program do you do, and is it suitable for our
dancers?’ I sent him a sample program I successfully called
at a similar venue, along with an offer to discuss his
current community’s particular dance level and to craft my
program accordingly. I have not heard back.  Some say that
he likes to call most of the dances there himself, so may
be reluctant to share.

It feels so disheartening to be kept out, I’m now
considering whether it’s worth it to continue trying to
call. Really, it’s been through frequent repetition that my
skills have improved so far. I’ve popped a new level of
understanding in terms of how to envision the moves in
space, how to teach geometrically and in terms of people
the dancers will encounter, and how to really work with the
band to create a synergistic ball o’ fire.  These skills
have recently grown exponentially. I enjoy doing it, and
have gotten some excellent positive feedback from dancers,
bands, and other programmers ­ some of it even in writing,
so I can prove it.  But if I have to fight to get one gig
every few months, I never will get better.  I’ll forget the
nuances of how to do it.  Instead of building on each
other, every dance evening will be a singular struggle. And
I doubt it’s worth it. I love giving to the dance community
through calling, but also love dancing ­ and that I feel
unquestioningly welcomed to do.

Thoughts? Strategies? Commiseration?  How to best handle
this situation?  Is there a way to encourage programmers to
nurture local talent?  How did you manage to wrangle
getting gigs that allowed your skills to continually grow?


Sorry for the length of this post and the ‘woe is me’ tone.
 But I figured some detail might help in this case, and I’m
really feeling at a loss.

Thank you, comrades, for any insight you might offer.

Tina Fields





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