B-boys in the subway

I love it when bits of your childhood re-emerge revealing more about themselves than you realised at the time. Of course this is bound to happen as a Briton in USA as so much of the culture - TV, movies and music primarily - is imported from the states, and very much taken for granted.
I remember as a 12 year old, being so excited by the first wave of body-popping and then shortly after breakdancing arriving via Top of the Pops with its snazzy moves. I definitely remember some of the moves names too :lockin', uprock, the donkey, the windmill, turtle, and less creatively the headspin. For months I couldn't walk past a mirror without seeing if my body-wave or arm-wave, or the 2 together, sending a ripple from hand up high to toe down low, was as good as I needed it to be.
And I remember that my family wouldn't buy me a Nike jacket because they were overpriced and because in 6 months time I would probably refuse to wear it as what is so in becomes so out so quickly. See the image above - the guys on the left in blue and red are wearing the holy grail of jackets for some posses in 1983.
It was not discussed then but I remember noting that 'Turbo' and 'Ozone', the heros of the movie 'Breakdance', dancing in the round in the picture, didn't wear them. They were way above such prescriptions it seemed. Ozone is even wearing a classic bandana around his waist - bandanas seem to work in so many fashions, from hells angel/biker, to metal, to rockabilly, to rap, to country.  It's a rebel flag I guess.
Their getup reminds me a bit of Madonna's first appearances where lots of bits of different types of cloth seemed to be coming together, but in a way that wasn't completely arbitrary. It's pretty creative, and what makes it cool is a bit mysterious. And noticing the cool people in Manhattan, the nack of this crazy pick'n'mix way of dressing doesn't seem to have disappeared - of course there are many styles around but I notice this one a lot.
So it's Friday and I decide to go and see a film after work. 'The Dictator' has me a bit intrigued and at a push I can make the 7.30pm showing just off Union Sq on 14th Avenue. It's a hot evening and the subway train is cool with aircon. Its busy but there's a positive end of the working week buzz in the air. I head up the stairs checking the time, taking in the general dirtiness of the subway again and how short the steps are compared to the tube in London - shallower. This assists my lateness.
Now Union Square subway station has a big open area cut up by iron girdle pillars and stairways, with hundreds of people, who know where they are going, zig-zagging across the place. I get moments of confidence where I almost feel part of this as I learn bits of the system. But today I notice - hard not to - some driving loud ghetto-blaster music coming from a different section of the subway, I pause, and then speed up again, and then about turn, unable to resist seeing what is going on.
And after 3 weeks in the city, this is the first time I really feel 'Oh Jesus this is why I came here - things can happen here on a different level to other cities'.
Well breakdancing is hardly a breakthrough any more. But it's a question of how something is done isn't  it. Let me set the scene. First there is excitement in the air with the general orderly chaos of a big crowd standing around with lots of other travelers passing by, put out by the obstruction but also loving that this is how things are, the sublimeness of the anarchy. Secondly the music is amazing - I wouldn't know what it was or how to find it. It's dance music with a driving beat, much faster than the breakdance music in the 80s, much more unrelenting and a bit more tribal than electronic. There's rap in there but not majorly and lots of sounds. The volume in the subway gives it a panicky edge too which contributes to the atmosphere quite a bit. It's not just a ghetto-blast either, but a couple of big speakers set up there.
I manage to get a window into the action next to a large middle-aged black lady with short hair and dangly earrings, a rough voice, an old push-bike and a sports bag zipped up perched on its handle-bars.
"Hey man mooov over will ya" she shouts to a big guy a few feet in front of her in her punchy Bronx accent. She pulls on his coat successfully which frees up my view too.
OK, this is what we saw. There's 6 of them in a line at the back of the round between the speakers. Black guys of course, and a black woman in there too - very young. They step from side to side in synch, music blaring - not choreographed, just natural. Their whole bodies stepping though, not just feet. The promise of staccato is already in there shoulders and necks. 2 guys wear shades. 1 guy is all in black - black baggy trousers a bit a la MC Hammer but more scary. He also wears a black bandana and his shades are sort of alienish. He's the one that came out dancing smoking a cigarette at one point, making very fast sort of in-out movements with his torso and then the cigarette was turned round hands-free in his mouth and he did this kind of driving a car dance backwards so that the reversed fag in his mouth was the exhaust with him blowing a long stream of smoke out of the filter end. Then he was off and the fag extinguished - responsible breakers!
Other guys are more 'normal' looking - one guy is wearing 3/4 length brushed cotton khaki coloured trousers, red T-shirt. He's the one that did a limbo down to the splits and lots of amazing other moves including somersaults. But mostly just very beautiful, powerful dancing - with the music, whole body involved, it was kind of shocking, visceral. If they were a tribe of warriors, their dance along with the driving music would definitely scare you off. And the red T guy at the end of his splash, stops, lifts up the sunglasses visor on his normal glasses and fains shyness as he walks off, hands in his pockets, looking behind him meekly as he goes, which makes me laugh.
I found the body-bopping probably most grabbing. One guy, a clean dresser, came on and it was a new take on body-popping. He moved his legs all bendy at right-angles but it looked like his torso was being floated on on a cushion of air rather than by his legs as he danced around - a kind of optical illusion, real magic taking place - a high point. I could tell when it was a high point as the crazy lady next to me starting screaming loudly. This would set her little dog off who yapped from inside her sports bag.
She also screamed when the breaker-girl walked on her hands around the floor kicking legs up to the ceiling frantically in alternation - all to the music of course. Another scream for the guy in dirty grey joggers and black shirt who did a very fast run of cart-wheels on the spot - a very muscly, buttocky moment that one.
And she screamed again when the following happened. And this to me is very NYC. And it was very exciting. So the 6 dancers were back stepping in a row with the anticipation of whose next? And it looks like the red T is going to pop. But what's this! Coming in from nowhere is a slender Mexican guy. He makes his way gradually into the middle, putting his briefcase down at the edge, peering intensely ahead, repeatedly locking his body during his sort of slow meander forwards. He has the black pony tail, slacks and a jacket. The shear unexpectedness of it makes the crowd go wild. And we glance at the black guys - what do they make of this? They seem up for it, delighted. After his contribution, there are cool versions of high fives and all.
I then leave on a high point, having donated, and curious at my own fear of the whole thing. I miss the movie but chat to the Occupy people in Union Square after acquiring a fabulous slize of wholemeal pizza (from wood oven) in Wholefoods and a tasty shredded Vietnamese salad. Munch munch!