Features

FEATURE: Breaking It Down

Believe it or not, the Chippewa Valley has its own breakdancing scene

Janie Boschma, photos by Andrea Paulseth |

There’s an underground movement slowly creeping through Chippewa Valley schools and, soon, its followers predict, you won’t help but take notice.

Break-dancing, a form of freestyle dance that incorporates gymnastics and hip-hop dance, is gaining popularity with Eau Claire’s middle-school boys, high-schoolers, and college kids.

“I’m predicting in the next four to five years, it’ll be pretty big in the Midwest,” said Tony Lor, a recent graduate from Memorial High School.

Tony got into break-dancing four years ago, once his older brother showed him a few moves and he realized that soccer and football just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

Why?

Break-dancing has all the perks of a conventional team sport (exercise, fun, and group bonding), but with more creativity, freedom, and a much better soundtrack, he said. And just like other school sports, break-dancing is physically demanding and potentially dangerous. Without considerable upper-body strength, flexibility, and coordination, a b-boy is more or less doomed, and certainly won’t last long in a battle (a dance-off against an opponent).

“It’s not a hobby. Actually, it’s a lifestyle,” said Andie Lor, a recent graduate from DeLong Middle School. “It’s a way to express ourselves.”

Almost all of the b-boys at DeLong wear knee pads and wristbands and some even wear helmets. And for good reason – earlier this year Andie broke his wrist trying to conquer the air track, also called the air flare.

“I guess that’s why they call it ‘break’-dancing,” said Kathy Bareis, a DeLong Middle School art teacher who has watched the boys dance outside her room after school several times.

But practice makes perfect, Tony said, and now Andie is only one of four he knows in the Chippewa Valley who have mastered the challenging air flare.

Though the boys are all Hmong, Tony said they didn’t mean to create an exclusive subculture; it just kind of happened. Many of them were friends beforehand, so it just seemed natural.

“You just feel more comfortable around your people,” Tony said. “If you want to do it, just come do it. We’re not going to hate on you or anything.”

Tony was quick to point out that when he first started breaking, he learned moves from an older, white friend.

Soua said everyone starts at the same skill level and though there’s some natural talent involved, the outstanding b-boys are just the ones committed to practicing. Breaking is definitely not culturally specific, Tony said.

A seasoned break-dancer wouldn’t dare call himself a “break-dancer.” The preferred noun is “b-boy” (from “break-boy”), or sometimes a “breaker.” “Breaking” and “b-boying” are the most appropriate verbs.

A female break-dancer is a b-girl. They really do exist; all of the Chippewa Valley’s break-dancers whom Volume One met just happened to be boys.

The lack of b-girls in Eau Claire could be attributed to the fact they actually have a school dance program. Bareis said DeLong’s informal breaking club is really the only outlet for male dancing there.


GETTING BROKEN IN:
Break-Dancing in Middle School

During the school year, you’ll find them in the hallway near the art department almost every morning at 7:30 a.m. before DeLong starts its day at 7:50 a.m. With a boombox borrowed from their art teacher, Kriss Webert, about a dozen middle-school boys gather in the hall to practice their choreographed group routine.

One boy plants his palms on the tile and swings his legs in a circle around his torso. Then gravity takes control and a dozen or two students, crowded shoulder-to-shoulder along the brick wall, gasp a collective, sympathetic “Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” as he loses balance and falls to the tile.

Then Andie, who has been breaking for two years, rips off his helmet and slides down the hallway headfirst on his forehead at a 45-degree angle. His fans are clearly impressed and erupt into cheers.

Andie said he and many of DeLong’s other b-boys practice four hours a week, sometimes more.

“What a great way to start the morning with a little movement and expression,” Bareis said. “They’re teaching together. It’s not about competition; it’s about sharing, maybe challenging each other to be better.”

And they are indeed getting better.

Soua Yang, a UW-Eau Claire senior biology major who first learned how to break in Wausau five years ago, said the middle-schoolers have more time and energy to devote to practice, and it shows.

“A lot of the middle-schoolers are better than the high-schoolers now,” he said.

Pestu Yang, an upcoming sophomore at UW-Eau Claire, said he agreed the new breaking generation seems to be on the verge of outperforming their teachers. Pestu has been breaking for almost six years.

“They need more expression, but they’re still pretty good,” he said.

DeLong often hosts all-school variety shows and Bareis said the boys’ group breaking is always a wildly popular act.

“They’re kind of the stars here, there’s a lot of talent,” DeLong principal Tim O’Reilly said. “It gives them an opportunity to be with their buddies and they’re not causing any problems with it.”

In fact, DeLong’s staff has been so supportive of their breaking that the eighth-grade b-boys are nervous about moving on to high school in the fall, where they have heard teachers won’t be quite so accommodating.

Sixty percent of DeLong’s graduates will switch to North High School, while 40 percent will move on to Memorial High School, Bareis said.

“These boys, we’re so proud of them,” Bareis said. “We really are.”


BROKEN UP BUT STILL TOGETHER:
Break-Dancing in High School and College

Tony and his friends, six b-boys from North High School, and three from UW-Eau Claire, practice together a couple of times a week in one of McPhee Center’s racquetball courts. It’s easier this way, because Tony said they need 15 students to form a dance club or team at either high school. Without club status, it’s hard to compete for practice space after school. Especially because they come from different schools, they decided it would be best to meet at McPhee, where they can practice for hours without having to worry about the building closing.

And then, it’s time to press play and break it down.

It starts with toprocking. Toprocking is the first set in their “routine,” if you will. When a b-boy is toprocking, that just means he’s dancing upright, showing off his rhythm and footwork. Usually, Tony said this is a warm-up for the downrock and a chance for the b-boy to intimidate an opponent.

Downrocking is what happens as soon as he drops to the floor and breaks, usually with one or two hands on the floor for support and his legs somewhere in the air. Downrocking consists of the most impressive moves to an outsider, most of which Tony said are variations on the power moves, the flare, and the windmill.

A b-boy is judged – either formally in competition or by other b-boys – on multiple criteria, but mostly quality, style, power, and originality, Tony said. That is, his ability to effectively perform the mechanics of a move, while maintaining fluid choreography to the beat and letting that personality shine through the footwork.

Of course, audience approval is perhaps the most accurate measure of a b-boy’s performance.

“You get your exercise and I just like it when the crowd cheers for you. I think that’s a nice feeling,” Tony said. “The more cool your moves look, the more the crowd yells for you.”

And to keep those cool moves coming, area b-boys draw inspiration from multiple sources, including YouTube videos and MTV’s America’s Best Dance Crew on MTV.

But as is the case with any art form, Tony said there really are no rules.

“There’s nothing right or wrong, just the way you express yourself,” Tony said.

What really gets audience response is how much emotion, how much expression, a b-boy can convey in his dancing, Tony said. Every b-boy has his own nuanced style, especially with moves, and body language and facial expression are a big part of that.

“Everyone has their own flavor, their own style,” Pestu said. “That’s what makes break-dancing fun.”

To maintain that individuality, Tony said coming up with your own moves is best. But be warned, experimenting sometimes requires making a complete fool of yourself.

“It’s kind of embarrassing, but you have to act really whacky,” Tony said.

Tony and his crew are able to both laugh at each other’s mistakes, and clap and cheer each other on when they really pull a move off. That necessary comfort level is also part of the reason why almost all of the b-boys in the area are Hmong.

And when Tony, Pestu, Soua, and their friends are sick of each other’s moves and need a change of pace, they have to travel to Wausau, the Twin Cities, or La Crosse to compete.

Beyond a May event at the State Theatre that executive director Ben Richgruber said was more focused on poetry than actual break-dancing, and the Eau Claire Hip-Hop Invasion three years ago at Action City, there have been very few break-dancing events in Eau Claire. You can usually catch them at the annual Hmong New Year, though.

But the number of b-boys at the middle-school level is encouraging, Tony said, and he hopes more will follow them.

“We got them to start and we’re hoping more will start up,” Tony said.

Then, in a few years, the break-dancing scene in Eau Claire could be hopping – literally.