They slide on the ground and hover in the air, as if free of friction or gravity. They move their feet at lightning speeds, then seconds later strike a pose, holding their bodies off the ground with one hand. They twirl, leap and spin, they flip, fall and float, and they can be both rhythmically robotic and athletically acrobatic.
The style of dance is called breaking. And it’s about to step onto a whole new stage.
For the first time, breaking – known outside the culture as breakdancing – will be making an appearance in the Summer Olympics in Paris, with the women’s competition scheduled for Friday and the men’s events slated for Saturday.
A total of 32 breakers (16 men and 16 women, known as B-boys and B-girls) from 16 countries will be going for gold as a dance style with 50 years of history unfolds in front of an international audience.
And as the breaking community eagerly awaits what’s to come, the breakers who have cultivated and carried on the culture in Maine are just as intrigued by how it will look.
“Never in a million years did I think (we) could break dance and be in the Olympics and get a gold medal to represent the United States,” said Will Bruno, a 43-year-old breaker living in Biddeford who dances under the name Will Trix. “That’s such an accomplishment for the culture.”
That culture is hip-hop, and breaking – along with rapping, DJing and graffiti art – has been central since the 1970s. And the dance element carries a lot of meaning for the breakers who perform it. For them, breaking isn’t as much of an activity as a style of life, and a means for expression.
“This is my way I make friends, this is the way I meet new people, this is what I do on weekends for fun. If I’m going to New York City, I’m going because there’s a break event there,” said Josh Wright, a 33-year-old breaker and instructor from Portland who goes by the name Starstriker. “It kind of drives my life.”
He’s not alone.
“You can’t just be like, ‘Oh, I’ll do this for an hour a day.’ You’re in it,” Will Trix said. “And when you’re not in it, you’re looking at B-boy videos, you’re watching hip hop dancers, you’re engulfed in the culture itself. … Even at their jobs, they’re like, ‘Oh, man, today’s a rough day, but I can’t wait until I get out and get with the boys and start breaking, and let all of this out.’”
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The Olympic competitions (or battles) will feature one-on-one showdowns between dancers. A DJ will spin music and each dancer will perform a routine to it, one after the other, with the routine consisting of breaking’s main elements: toprock (dance steps made while upright), drops (moves the breaker makes to go to the ground), footwork (moves the breaker makes while on the ground), power moves (the dynamic spins in which they show off their strength) and freezes (pauses during which the breaker holds a pose).
During the routine, breakers will try to impress the nine-judge panel – and ignite the crowd – with jaw-dropping feats. They’ll contort their bodies, move two ways at once, land on their heads and carry their body weight on their fingertips. They’ll tap their feet like Fred Astaire, or moonwalk like Michael Jackson.
“The people (watching) for the first time are going to say, ‘I can’t believe the human body can do that,’” said Pete “Nonstop” Vitello, 44, of Biddeford, a Brooklyn native who Wright said was key to introducing and spreading breaking culture in Maine. “B-boys have adapted and have heightened their levels so much that the Olympics are going to be like no other. Even B-boys don’t even know what to expect. I’m telling you, people are moving like you wouldn’t believe today.”
Judges will critique the breakers on a variety of criteria, including the smoothness and complexity of their motion, the originality of the moves, and the degree to which it’s synced to the music.
“First off, do you have foundation? If you’re doing all this dance stuff, does it look like you’ve done it before, or does it look like you’re making it up and trying to pretend?” said Bruce “Thunder” Tracy, 48, of Portland, who has been teaching dance since 1995. “They’re looking for scoring on originality and flavor. … Do they intrigue you? Do they create drama within their dance, do they tell a story? Do they make you feel anything?
“There are some guys that come out and wow you with moves, and there are some guys that come out and wow you with your presence. The guys that have both are the ones you have to watch out for.”
Part of the mystery surrounding the Olympic debut will be how the tone and atmosphere of a breaking battle on the streets or in a club translates to Paris. When breakers face off, it’s a confrontation. Winning tactics include mind games, intimidation, and tricks to get under a dancer’s skin.
“You’ve got to remember, this is almost like an underground fight club,” Starstriker said. “We get to battles and we wait for the battle to happen, and after the battle happens, then everybody is cool. But before that, it’s like looking at stray dogs across the alley.”
Interaction and response is part of the game. A breaker who doesn’t properly execute the fall to the ground will hear his opponent taunt him for “crashing.” Copying a move from another breaker will result in an accusation of “biting the move,” signaled by the opponent putting one forearm on top of the other.
“There’s a bunch of trash talk that happens,” Thunder said. “That element can get in your head. How’s that going to play out in the Olympics?”
There’s also a curiosity, and even a concern, among breakers about how a form of artistic expression can be fairly evaluated with points, and whether a push to win a competition will come at the expense of the emotion and feeling that’s at the heart of the break.
“It’s either going to be watered down and we’re all going to hate it, and the rest of the world’s going to be like, ‘This is great, they’re spinning on their heads,’” Thunder said, “or we’re going to really get to show them what the thing looks like in its truest form.”
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The fears are justified. Breakers are proud of the culture behind the dance, and of how it allows them ways to express themselves. Starstriker said breaking pulled him out of a life of petty crime as a kid. Nonstop said it gave his life direction after he was homeless in New York.
For B-boys and B-girls, breaking is something they know belongs to them. It’s why the term “breakdancing,” an outsiders’ word, gets scoffed at. And it’s why nearly all breakers use an alias. It allows them to transform on the floor, and sink into that transformation.
“When I’m on the floor, I’m not Joshua Wright anymore, I don’t have to worry about his problems,” Starstriker said. “I’m Starstriker B-boy. … You can take on that other persona.”
What they’re excited about, however, is what the Olympic exposure will do to an art form that has already started to see an uptick in public popularity.
“It’s rare to find a dance studio that offers a breaking class at this point, but I have a feeling that’s going to change,” said Elizabeth Lau, the community programs director at Portland Youth Dance. “Ten years ago, maybe a class was five to 10, tops. (Starstriker’s) class this summer was 18 with a wait list.”
Breaking in Maine is still largely limited to Greater Portland, but its imprint on the state isn’t going away. Lau started The Exchange, an annual event that brings hip-hop dancers to Portland for battles. And Will Trix is organizing the Hip Hop Summit, which will take place Aug. 31 at Congress Square Park and feature battles, rappers, DJs and graffiti artists.
With the Olympics offering its stage, breaking could get its biggest boost yet.
“It’s about to blow up,” Thunder said.
Breakers themselves would be happy to see it.
“This is something that’s around, this is something that happens, and it’s something that can take you around the world,” Starstriker said. “And you can learn it in your driveway.”
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