Let's Dance

My girlfriend and I went to redeem some salsa lesson vouchers at a bar in Chinatown this evening. I'm not normally one for social dance, but I'll try anything that's free.

With about thirty others, we learned four basic patterns (basic step, cross-body lead, simple turn and cross-body lead with turn) that we'd probably forget by next week. The environment was dim; the instruction rushed. I enjoyed it nonetheless, once I got used to the idea that this was no dance clinic, and I wasn't going to receive any specialised attention.

I guess the non-technical nature of the session really sunk in when the instructor called out for us to change partners after trying out the basic step. As my first 'social' dance experience, I felt extremely uncomfortable about placing my right hand on a woman's back as the first gesture upon meeting, especially since I wouldn't normally even want to meet some of the women I danced with.

It didn't help that as a first-timer, I had no idea where I should look when dancing. I figured that looking at my partner's face would make me a flirt; looking away would make me rude; and looking anywhere in between would make me look like I was checking out her boobs. In the end I settled for staring straight down at my feet, and mouthing "1,2,3 ... 5,6,7" repeatedly to emphasise that it was indeed my feet that I was looking at.

The rate at which we switched partners made the evening feel like a speed dating session. Yet in a way, it also felt like commercial sex, since each brief tryst was marked with tacitly accepted physical contact. In half an hour I had apprehended over two dozen intimacies: young, old, seasoned, inexperienced, friendly, distant, bulky, slender, instructional, agreeable, polite, impatient, fresh, craggy. It was a bizarre experience which I still don't really know what to make of.

But I'll definitely head there again. Our vouchers are still good for another one or two classes, and picking up some dance moves--even clumsy ones--is no bad thing.

----------------------

On an unrelated note, later at night I saw an online journal entry that opened up universes of yearning in me. What she wrote reminded me that (i) people like her do exist; (ii) such people are always imperceptibly out of reach. For the umpteenth time this year, I looked at what someone wrote and realised: I could the one. And together, we would be legendary.

Singaporean Man of Mystery

Remote-controlled death bracelets. Cars with doors that open like wings. Guns that go 'teew' with no smoke or projectiles. It would've been hilarious enough if this was a spoof of '60s spy movies. It is all the more hilarious because it is a '60s spy movie--and was probably taken rather seriously by audiences when it was first screened. And of course, the clincher: it was filmed and set entirely in Singapore.

Welcome to Jefri Zain - Gerak Kilat, the first and only instalment of the adventures of Singapore's own James Bond. Currently on a limited run as part of the ongoing Screen Singapore festival, it's a hidden gem, overshadowed by the hype accorded to Ring of Fury and the Kill Bill-inspiring Cleopatra Wong.

I watched this with my girlfriend at Alliance Francaise this afternoon, and I'm glad I did--it was an absolute riot. I'm normally worried about my explosive laughter at shows because it sometimes irritates other audience members. I was extrememly relieved, therefore, when those around me started guffawing minutes into the movie and persisted in this manner till the end.



Gerak Kilat is pure, endearing kitsch. It revolves around the titular secret agent's attempts to foil the plans of an unnamed evil organisation, led by a sinister unnamed General. He is aided and abetted by two other agents who operate, rather implausibly, out of a laboratory beneath his large house.


In the process of unravelling its non-existent plot, the film pulls out every cliche in the spy movie book: incompetent henchmen, femme fatales, secret passageways, hi-tech gizmos and even a rooftop chase in a part of '60s Singapore which is unrecognisable until Capitol Theatre comes into view. What is particularly charming, however, is its supremely low-budget stylings.

Be Prepared to Give a Little More

The Bravery 'live' at Stadium Green, Singapore (!!!)

When I visited New York in May, I passed up on The Bravery because they were playing the night I arrived, and I wanted to save that night for fighting jetlag. I was therefore very pleased when I found out that they were due to play here in August. Yesterday evening, after work, I met up with my girlfriend, passed her all my stuff, changed into a Kasabian t-shirt and got her to apply eyeliner for me. I then dashed into a toilet, smacked on dollops of gel and was all set.

Days before the gig, a friend and I were debating on whether to bring cameras. Despite snapping away at all 7 gigs I attended in NYC, I've never had the balls to bring a camera into a gig here, since local security tends to be pretty anal about everything. Our tickets also proclaimed "strictly no bottles, cameras or recording devices". We were therefore pretty dismayed when a chorus of flashbulbs went off as opening act Electrico took to the stage, and even more gutted when The Bravery came on.

For one, we were very close to the stage--close enough to get excellent shots of the band. For another, their frontman Sam Endicott is a real stage whore...much more than I expected from looking at online photos from the rest of their tour. He has a whole repertoire of camera-friendly moves which I imagine will come to be recognised as "so Sam Endicott". Classic pose 1: torso fully arched forward; left leg hiked up on a monitor; mic stand held parallel to the floor, supported by left thigh; singing with eyes painfully shut. Classic pose 2: leaning heavily on the mic stand, ass sticking out, arms half-extended with both hands clasping the mic, shaking as if being blown by a typhoon, singing with eyes painfully shut. And so on. In between striking these right-angled poses he's just swanning and stumbling all over the stage, dragging the mic stand in both hands in a fashionably shambolic manner. On two occasions he even charged offstage, leaning into the audience, holding his mic out to his adoring fans. It was hugely entertaining.

I should also mention that Endicott lasted a good five or six songs before losing his trademark military-style jacket. Props to him for holding on that long when the standard for lead singers stripping due to the heat is two songs.

The Bravery's 13-song setlist consisted of their entire debut album, a b-side and what appeared to be a song from their early days. All the album tracks were identical to their studio versions with the exception of "Public Service Announcement", which began with a prolonged synth appregio. With their pogo-tastic tempos and rhythms, the crowd was already bouncing from the start. Midway through the set, "An Honest Mistake" got the crowd moshing. (Moshing! In Singa-bleepin'-pore! There is hope for us yet.) Unfortunately, putting their biggest local hit that early in the set meant that the energy never really recovered later on, even if a bunch of people started bodysurfing. Security officers dampened the atmosphere by repeatedly threatening to pull bodysurfers over the barricade, though the offenders never surfed near enough for them to actually do so. The only person whom I saw being hauled over was a girl who had fainted from either the heat or excitement.

In a rather uncharacteristic manner for rockstars, The Bravery came storming back for their encore less than a minute after running offstage at the end of the main set. And just as quickly as they came, they were gone. The whole affair lasted under an hour. It was much better than I expected, and I can only give all the props in the world to Lushington Entertainment for taking a gamble with an up-and-coming indie act. My only regrets were not bringing a camera and narrowly missing getting my hands on the setlist. Two copies went to girls right in front of me, and they were the best kind of setlist one can get, since they were handwritten. Well, I guess I shouldn't complain...

Setlist, with Sam's introductory remarks (as I recall)

1. Rites of Spring
2. Out of Line
3. Swollen Summer ("Hey Singapore, how're ya doing? This one's called Swollen Summer")
4. Give in ("Last night we went and ate some durians. Now THAT is some fucked up shit! It smells like used diapers, and tastes like...coffee-flavoured toothpaste. You guys are some tough motherfuckers!")
5. Public Service Announcement
6. Tyrant ("Let me tell you a story. I was once in love with this girl, and then we broke up... ...I could hear her in the next room with another man. So I wrote this song for her, it's called 'Tyrant'")
7. An Honest Mistake
8. No Brakes ("Whoo! You're a fucking amazing audience! Okay, this one's called 'No Brakes'")
9. Ring Song ("This is a song about living in New York City and not being able to see what's right in front of you. It's called 'Ring Song'")
10. An Cat Dubh ("Recently we had the honour for opening for a band I really love, that I listened to when growing up...U2. So this is like our thank you to them. I don't really know how to pronounce the title 'cos it's Gaelic, but in English it means 'The Black Cat'")
11. Unconditional

===encore===

1. Fearless ("You guys want another one?")
   
2. (Some old song of theirs) ("You guys want another one? Okay we got time for one more. Sing along if you recognise this one. You've been an amazing audience. Thank you and good night")