Magisterial, revelatory, and-most suitably-entertaining, What the Eye Hears offers an authoritative account of the great American art of tap dancing. Brian Seibert, a dance critic for The New York Times, begins by exploring tap's origins as a hybrid of the jig and clog dancing from the British Isles and dances brought from Africa by slaves. He tracks tap's transfer to the stage through blackface minstrelsy and charts its growth as a cousin to jazz in the vaudeville circuits and nightclubs of the early twentieth century. Seibert chronicles tap's spread to ubiquity on Broadway and in Hollywood, analyzes its decline after World War II, and celebrates its rediscovery and reinvention by new generations of American and international performers. In the process, we discover how the history of tap dancing is central to any meaningful account of American popular culture. This is a story with a huge cast of characters, from Master Juba (it was probably a performance of his in a Five Points cellar that Charles Dickens described in American Notes for General Circulation) through Bill Robinson and Shirley Temple, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and Gene Kelly and Paul Draper to Gregory Hines and Savion Glover. Seibert traces the stylistic development of tap through individual practitioners, vividly depicting dancers both well remembered and now obscure. And he illuminates the cultural exchange between blacks and whites over centuries, the interplay of imitation and theft, as well as the moving story of African-Americans in show business, wielding enormous influence as they grapple with the pain and pride of a complicated legacy. What the Eye Hears teaches us to see and hear the entire history of tap in its every step.
If you're at all interested in tap or classic movie musicals, you absolutely need to read this comprehensive history on the subject. I, of course, was hooked on the sections about Bill Robinson, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, and Sammy Davis, Jr. Plus, now I can say that I know a lot more about the style's roots.
In Seibert's entertaining, vervy and very smart telling, the history of tap dancing is also a history of America at its most fraught. Seibert, a tap dancer and NY Times critic, unearths the mind-boggling early history of this once makeshift entertainment, which had mimicry, of sound and character, at its foundation, an "imitation game" that pays homage (or takes down) before an original, signature move is ventured.
This history moves all the way up to now, with striking political, social and cultural resonances. And--no mean feat--it's amazing about the dancing itself.
Maybe more than you'd ever want to know about tap dancing, but that's really the point, isn't it? A fascinating look at an art form that is both weird and wonderful.
I finally finished What The Eye Hears, a history of tap dancing. I love tap dancing and shamefully my knowledge of it begins with Astaire and ends with Fosse via Kelly, though a slight awareness of Hines and Glover. Nevertheless, this book's breadth is its weakness. Perhaps in an effort to redress recognition of the black roots of the dance form, it spends far too long examining the early period, when there were few contemporary records of the precursors of tap dance, so the author makes many apologies for these gaps in his research, while still giving every single person to ever appear on a playbill as a clog or buck and wing dancer their own paragraph.
A couple of hundred pages in we get to the Hollywood era, and here it is more interesting, given there are more records, but also a much clearer ability to redress the white-washing of Hollywood, the step-stealing of white dancers from black and the more interesting dance development going on in Harlem, and the links to jazz. At several points in this section, I looked up footage on You Tube, to give better visualization and auralisation of what was being described.
Finally, we have the post-Hollywood era, a period with tap being side-lined, or a nostalgia-fest only. Again, there is a litany of people given their five minutes in the book, but the limitations of the written form again sent me off to You Tube. The actual choreography was little described. There are some really interesting things being done with tap and orchestral music. Tacked on at the end is a section on tap outside of America.
All in all, a very detailed account of what is a fascinating art form, but ultimately, I found it a slog. And something like tap dancing should never be a slog.
Seibert has magnificently researched Tap; starting with original steps brought in with Irish Jigs, African Drums, and Appalachian Clogging in very early American society, then through Thomas Jefferson's plantation, Charles Dicken's visit to the Five Pointes Dance Hall, and more. He wonderfully brings us through the minstrelsy, the jazz age, to Taps comeback with television, then movies and Broadway. Seibert leaves nothing out, making this a long book (624 pages). He includes some great photos throughout. the book is definitely an entertaining read while giving us, the readers, a remarkable view at a true piece of American history. I would definitely recommend this to anyone who dances, enjoys music, and wants to learn more.
****I received this book in a Goodreads giveaway from Farrar, Straus and Giroux in exchange for a fair review.****
"I didn't know how far back it went. I thought I knew what tap was: a fun activity from my childhood, a hobby of my adulthood, a way to fantasise that I was Fred Astaire. When I started to discover the vastness of what I hadn't known about tap, it was chastening. There was a lot I thought I knew but didn't know about the history of my country."
I, for one, am thrilled that Seibert chose to research the history of tap (and, indeed, of the US) and share it with the world. His work is thorough, engrossing, entertaining, and written with a deft, flexible touch that I hope he also manages to express in his own tap dancing. Delightful.
Extremely in depth and through, this is an excellent history of tap. The only downside is one that all books about dance fall into and that is the fact that a book can't show you the steps. As a result, some of the magic is lost, especially if you are not well versed in tap terminology. In this case, however, it is almost fitting as so much of the history of tap is undocumented and so much of what is documented was controlled and dictated by those who were not the primary creators.
(skimmed) Comprehensive. Exhaustive (a bit exhausting). This book names all the tap dancers I ever heard about growing up, plus many many more. It's a great encyclopedic resource but not a sit down and read for enjoyment type book.
Very intense, researched book about the history of tap. The chapters were organized but was disorganized when it came to conveying the history of each era...written more from the author's stream of consciousness and rambling
This is more of an encyclopedia than a history. I stopped reading after the first 100 pages because I did not want to read another page full of names and dates and places. For me, there was no story, although it did put me to sleep.
The book is obviously well-researched, and I did appreciate the 34-page index. In it I found a reference to Canadian tap dancing (pages 512-513) that I had never heard about. Definitely a book for people who are serious aficionados of the art.
Object lesson in the utility of footnotes, fleet narrative bogged down by the chronological, encyclopedic, everyone deserves a sentence, centuries long accounting of the art. Good read to learn a lot of new names, too many new names.
it was interesting but way too long and I didn’t finish it. I definitely learned a lot about tap history but there is no reason the book had to be 500-600 pages long.
After 5 years I think I will shelve this book as interesting but not a light read For those of you interested on tap dancing it is a comprehensive reference Enjoy
One of the things I enjoy doing is reading criticism from outside the accustomed vineyards in which I generally toil. Which is hard, since I write theatre, book, film and museum reviews. But I think I can confidently say that, though I've done a tiny handful of dance reviews, it's not an area in which I have much prospect of expanding. Thus, I can read it for pure enjoyment. I can enjoy the writing for itself, and I can also allow it to take my mind and my writing muscles in new directions both for describing theatre itself (one does get into ruts) and for describing the dance components of theatre -- it does come into play in the vaudeville field after all.
Tap, like the jazz it often accompanies, can be especially rewarding to read about, as (I find) it often inspires writers to reach for poetic and patriotic heights in their portraits. Music and dance, they are so unlike words...using words to describe them can be so interesting. It can often enter realms pioneered by Gertrude Stein, who was all about the sound of words, which I've always found to be so wise and so primally true.
I didn't just generate this train of thought out of the blue. It was inspired by Brian Seibert's incredible achievement What the Eye Hears: A History of Tap Dancing, which came out back in November. Seibert is a dance critic for the New York Times and a contributor to the New Yorker. I warn you this is an appropriately formidable book. Indeed, I am not done with it yet, I only rush this post into the light of day because it is timely -- National Tap Dance Day. The book combines rich, beautiful writing, heartfelt description with a truly epic scope, with chapters covering every single era in American tap from its origins to the contemporary scene. One often skims non-fiction for the facts. This is not the kind of writing you want to do that with. There's too much pleasure in the reading of it.
And yet for someone like me a book like this has incredible utility. When I say that I'm not through with it yet, I also know that I will never be through with it. I'll go back to it periodically when I need to, for I know that I will need to, and I imagine I'll hit every last chapter before I'm done -- before I end my own last tap dance.
It's now got pride of place next to previous "go-to" tap tome, Rusty Frank's Tap! The Greatest Tap Dance Stars and Their Stories. It doesn't replace the earlier book, but compliments it. Frank's book is mostly first person quotes from the dancers themselves. Seibert is tap's Homer. Dance lovers and vaudeville lovers alike, buy this book!
Two years ago, in the horrendous winter of 2013-2014, I had the worst case of Cabin Fever in my entire life, and in protest, I dusted off my tap shoes and after an 8 year break, I returned to the world of tap. In many ways, it was the first time I've committed myself solely to that style of dance. My first dance teacher was a jazz teacher first, and tap was crammed in the last 10 minutes of a 60 minute class. I had no idea what I was getting into when I first stepped in my new studio, but after 24 months of reviving my love for the art, I like to think I'm getting a little better. If nothing else, it's been nothing sort of a joy (to say nothing of being a healthy outlet for my anxiety) to immerse myself in this sonic dance style. When I read a review of Brian Seibert's book, I knew I had to read it....
I can't quite believe this took me almost a month to read, but then, Seibert's giant tome isn't exactly easy for me to haul around on the bus. It's a detailed look at the recorded history of tap (and since it undoubtedly started as an African American tradition with some Irish influence, not much of its history has been recorded). It's complicated and confusing and sometimes is a good mirror to American cultural history. At a certain point (around the 50s, mostly) tap fell out of fashion and is now very much niche, but thanks to an international spread, it's not quite dead yet, and it's constantly evolving.
But Brian... Brian, Brian, Brian. What do you have against Gene Kelly? You think Astaire is "sex" but not Kelly? I've never thought that Astaire was the sex, but you are obsessed with the guy. He's dead, he can't hear you.
I have always loved the musical theatre and the dance that brings it to life. So when I saw this highly rated cultural history of tap dancing, I was intrigued. While this is quite well-researched and interesting, I find that for me this book is best read in segments, in the same way I would read a straight forward history book, rather than a continuous narrative. So after reading the first 100 pages or so, I jumped around a bit, honing in on the specific aspects of this cultural history that grabbed my attention. (Admittedly there are some parts that I haven't gotten to yet. Over time, I will revisit them...this is why I didn't give this a star rating yet)
This is an extremely thorough account of tap dancing, its origins, its stars and its social implications. I found the discussion about its roots in the African/slavery experience combined with that of the 19th century Irish immigrant fascinating. Mr. Seibert also explores the racial issues that have been integral to tap dancing history in an honest and sensitive fashion.
Of course I read the segment of the book discussing Hollywood in the 1940s - 1950s. Ruby Keeler, Shirley Temple, Bill Robinson, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers....all amazing performers! But I've always been a Gene Kelly fangirl, predictable swagger and all, and I actually agree with his comparison between himself and Astaire; that while Astaire put on the Ritz and appeals to our more aristocratic side, Kelly appeals to our inner proletariat. I love watching him dance with Jerry the Mouse...and Singing in the Rain is one of my all-time favorites.
If I hadn't heard an interview with the author, Brian Seibert, on public radio, I would not have borrowed this large, exhaustive history of tap dancing from my local public library. It is beautifully written and extremely interesting in terms of cultural, dance and music history. Accompanied by film clips and live demonstrations, it could easily be a one- or two-semester course. I am sorry to have missed so many opportunities to see impromptu and formal tap performances during my adolescence and young adulthood in the very neighborhoods of Manhattan where much of the dancing occurred. And who knew there were thriving tap scenes these days in places such as Barcelona (where I was, only a couple of weeks ago)?
Authenticity and influence are thorny issues in tap, as in any Black-derived American art, and Seibert writes with an admirable agnosticism, although his peace-and-harmony approach to step-stealing is a little too forgiving. I found his sensitive look at minstrelsy the most illuminating. A fatiguing series of portraits by the end, the cast and scope of this history is simply too large to tie together naturally.
This book is great for finding out all you ever wanted to know about tap dancing. I hope you are in it for the long journey it encompasses, because it is a very long book for those who usually only read books that are like 300 pages. Though luckily for me I read the giants and found this one very enjoyable.
I have always enjoyed tap dancing and I really enjoyed this book. It seems to cover everything you would ever want to know about tap dancing. I won this great book on GoodReads and like I do with most my wins I will be paying it forward by giving my win either to a friend or library to enjoy.
A lengthy, comprehensive history of tap - I focused on its origins and the Fred Astaire era, and skimmed other parts (tap in the 70s, for example). An interesting read if you're into tap.
Fantastic! I learned so much and now I want to learn more about the wonderful art that is tap dancing, particularly the people who aren't as well known as Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly.
Didn't think I'd get there but worth the read. 500 pages about the history of tap is, admittedly, not for everyone. But it's fairly interesting...and full of characters that I'd never heard of before - or only in passing: Bojangles Robinson, Honi Coles, the Nicholas Brothers, and more.