Travis Knights: Okay. Hi, my name is Travis Knights. I'm a tap dancer. I've been doing it for almost 30 years. Time doesn't care, it just marches on. I've had the great opportunity with working with a lot of great people. My teacher, I like to say this now, it's important to me talking about lineage—my teacher is Ethel Bruneau—she comes from Harlem, New York, and she was taught by her teacher, Mary Bruce, who originally comes from Chicago. So you get like a lineage of where my perspective on the dance comes from, and I think culturally that's going to come into play within this conversation,

I'm originally from Montreal, Quebec. Ethel moved to Montreal back when it was Montreal, like Montreal was a hub for entertainment in theatre and dance, specifically music. Ugh. And Ethel moved to Montreal in the fifties and stayed and worked until she had kids. And then she transitioned into teaching, which lucky for me. So by the time 1993 comes around, I'm in a very fortunate position to be taught by this masterful tap dancer.

I was just a nerd for the form. I saw Gregory Hines tap dance in the movie "Tap" and then I don't know which one's before. You can't trust my memory. So it's either, I saw the movie "Tap" first with Gregory Hines and Sammy Davis Jr., and Jimmy Slyde and Sandman Sims, all amazing. Or I saw Gregory Hines pay tribute to Sammy Davis Jr. on this special primetime, special honoring Sammy Davis Jr. And Sammy was sick at the time, gravely ill. And Gregory came out and did this phenomenal tap dance and then they tap danced together on stage and I was (snaps fingers) hooked. I wanted to learn this thing that I didn't understand what it was. So by the time 1992, I think it was, 1993 comes around, tap dance is, what's the rhetoric? It's a dying art form. It's wholly, misunderstood. Absolutely to this day misunderstood. We'll talk about that later. Maybe if I want to get into trouble. But because it's consistently characterized as a dying art form, there's a resurgence that's happened.

So the tap dance, the movie "Tap" acted or served as a resurgence for the form. In '93, there were a few Broadway shows that served as a resurgence for the form. '95, '96 people get mixed up with River Dance as Tap (clucks tongue) that's Irish, but at the same time, "Tap Dogs" comes out, "Bring in 'da Noise, Bring in 'da Funk," comes out on Broadway and revolutionizes the form, reclaims the form in a certain way. But all of these instances, "Black and Blue," all these instances of these successful shows are characterized as a resurgence of the form, but it never quite catches fire, and I just think it's poor storytelling. From '96, Gregory Hines comes, this shouldn't happen, but the universe is generous sometimes, a lot of times, often, always.

In '96. Gregory Hines comes to the Montreal Jazz Festival and he was a generous person. Towards the end of his set, he invited all the tap dancers up on stage that were in the— my mother did this ([imitates his mother]) — I went up and did a thing that I stole from his movie "Tap" and he said, "wait!" Then asked me to continue and then we did a little thing together.

It was great to meet him because I was young and adorable. I was so adorable and my voice hadn't cracked yet. Adorable! I got to meet him backstage after the fact and Jimmy Slyde. Phenomenal. Masterful, legendary, ancestor now of tap dance and Dianne Walker, "Lady Di". They opened for Gregory Hines on that particular show and Dianne Walker took me and my mother inside and she said, "Hey, y'all need to come to the States. We have these tap dance festivals and I think it would be transformative for your son to be exposed to, quite frankly male dancers." 'Cause up until then, I'm the typical male, solo male in the class. It had its advantages, but I got to, I went to the St. Louis Tap Dance Festival and that's really when I understood that funk, that secret sauce that I had gotten glimpses of, but I, it was just wafting in the space, learning from these masterful teachers, but also the students as well because we'd be in the class learning these, I'm salivating right now. We'd be in the class learning these steps, learning these rhythms that are just rich and hyperlinked to jazz music, the jazz era anyways, but after class, the students would just hang around. And we'd hang around each other and just connect completely different walks of life, completely different interests aside from this one specific form.

We connected and so the conversation was as nerdy as can get, but then even better than that, we'd get mentorship by these masterful teachers who also hung around 'cause they're also nerds for the form. I'll contrast that with this: in 2010, I did an audition for a show called "Tap Dogs," which is an Australian tap dance show, and they came to Toronto to audition for their North American tour final.

And so at that point I was just, I had so much joy in my being, but like the young person, joy—I just had that, I was beaming with the young person joy. And I went there with no intention of booking the gig. 'Cause I'm a Black guy. I'm not, I don't see myself in "Tap Dogs." Don't be ridiculous. I went there fully with the intention of just connecting with dancers that I had not met in the city yet 'cause I had just moved to Toronto. And of course, the dancers came out the woodwork, all kinds of dancers came out the woodwork to audition for "Tap Dogs." And then afterwards, with the blessing of the studio owner, Sean Byfield, we stayed. And I was just, "Yo, can we jam please? Can we just come together and jam?!"

That was my sole interest. Met so many dancers that I had never met before, and after that I never saw them again. It's always the same. The nerds, I know all the tap dance nerds, but the people that tap dance, you know that they're everywhere doing their thing. They're doing their thing. There's no judgment on that.

But there _is_ a specific ever present community, and the older I get, the more love grows for my specific class, my specific generation of nerdy tap dancers. Because life happens and sometimes we have to, but for those that continue, I just, the love grows, grows because we knew each other when we were young and enthusiastic.

It was a beautiful time. And by the way, the "Tap Dogs" gig. I landed that. I booked that. I'm glad I didn't stop myself from going because of my assumed. Go on. Yeah.

Jacob Zimmer: Yeah, totally. It's interesting the mix of industry and community in that, or that tension, which I'm sure is there in any tap on the edge of a commercial art form in terms of Broadway and Hoofing and those, yeah.

Travis Knights: Tension is the perfect word.

Jacob Zimmer: Yeah. And so maybe talking a bit about how you felt that, or negotiated that? That audition story is part of it.

Travis Knights: Yeah. The tension, there's all kinds of different tensions and I was, growing up, my teacher called it Broadway Tap and Hoofing. I even think that is an inaccurate description today because "Black and Blue" was on Broadway, "Bring in 'da Noise, Bring in 'da Funk" was on Broadway, "Sophisticated Ladies" was on Broadway. There's a lot of phenomenal hoofing on Broadway, but the nuance of what my teacher was telling me is, remains, I understand what she meant and she means, but today, how do you, how do we? I am trying to avoid this topic (laughs) I can't stop, because it's so painful. It's so hard 'cause there's so many things to talk about. Today, the tension that I feed and can't avoid, even though it right live in front of you, I'm trying to avoid it. The tension is, uh, racial and I think more specifically, more accurately, the tension is cultural. Racial, I think is the lie. It's flashy. It's like magic, like people lose their minds when race comes up. But I believe the more accurate way to describe this is cultural. I just got off another zoom call with the international tap dance community. I put that up in the air quotes. Because I'm a dick! Anyways, I just got a call and it was the first time that I was able to join that call because it's, uh, I'm so emotional about it that I'm trying to protect my joy. I'm trying to protect myself. Okay, so today I woke up feeling pretty "la forca", in my spirit. So let me just click, and the topics that came up were so indicative of what I'm talking about in terms of the cultural divide.

There are those that experience tap dance as an aesthetic form, a visual form, even a musical form, but it's divorced from any relation to the cultural origins of the form, and that shows a level of discomfort. It shows a level of lack of interest or ability to research it. It just shows where you're at.

And there are some people on the call that engaged and tried to teach, tried to illuminate issues that are important to the dance and how you engage it, your approach to it. For myself, I think number one, I'm thinking about protecting myself, but number two, I think it's also a waste of time once you identify cultural difference.

I think that's it. It's a cultural difference. We're doing these things over here. You are doing these things over there, and it's all well and good. We'll meet each other in the middle, hopefully with some goodwill and a good time with our tap shoes on. But aside from that, I'm gonna do my thing over here, and you're gonna do your thing over there.

Also, there's a real need that the Black community has for this information. There's this book, which I think is required reading for Black folk, quite frankly, any racialized folk, any marginalized folk, um, but it's through the lens of Black people. It's called the "Mis-education of the Negro," and it completely lays out what has happened and what needs to happen. Written in 1932, I believe, by Carter G. Woodson, phenomenal book. But in the book he talks about what happened then, which is happening now. So you have Black people that come from an impoverished environment and then they seek higher education and because they're being educated by their oppressor, essentially their paradigm shifts, and so when they turn back and look at their own community, they turn back and look at their own community as alien, and they learn to seek their oppressor's, uh, comforts, their oppressor's goals. And so there's this constant and consistent brain drain that happens. And so, if I find myself in this unique position to have been reared by Ethel Bruneau, to have had a lot of experience in the United States working with some phenomenal artists touring all around the world, it is incumbent upon me to return to my community and share that there's a lot of discomfort within the— yeah, let's go— there's a lot of discomfort within the local tap dance community about my desire and need to do that. But there's also a lot of support, all that to say that communities are myriad, so many different kinds of communities because tap dance is this like a catch all term. There's a lot of confusion, but the more you know, the more you know, oh, I'm interested in this specific thing, go for it.

And if there's no community— make it. In 2017, from 2017 to 2019. Or was it 2018 to 2020? Don't trust me with dates! With the help of Kristian P. and Jenna Marie, we created our own community. The community was called the Jazz United Jam, and every single Sunday without fail, musicians and dancers and singers got together and reconnected and formed our own little culture. And it was beautiful. It was fantastic. It was a learning experience about community, and how many different peoples come with their own understandings, and how we can meet in the middle, how we can communicate once we decide on a very specific song, a very specific time signature, a very specific feel.

Okay, now let's play. So I don't know. I am hopeful.

What makes a jam great is when the spirit is in the room. There's a certain openness that's required, and even when the spirit's in the room and there are people like this, they automatically tend to open up. Is it a safe space? That doesn't necessarily make a great jam if it's a safe space, meaning that you are not gonna get criticized for your approach or anything, not necessarily, but when the spirit's in the room, people lose themselves. When the spirit's in the room, the music, the dance just becomes this living, breathing thing. What else is there? It's, it's, yeah. It's not rare either. In my experience, it does take time to get there, though.

It doesn't just happen automatically as soon as the one drops. Doesn't just typically at the Jazz United, about a half hour before we closed, so we started from like seven, went to ten, about nine thirty. Sometimes with fail, but about nine thirty typically. Woo!! (claps) That place would be jumping, windows sweating. The room is packed. I'm not necessarily even tap dancing, but I can't help but dance in the background. Watching what's happening, listening to what's happening, being a part essentially of what's happening. Yes, so that's my answer. When the spirit's in the room.

I think practice. So it's, it's one thing to practice so that you become proficient at steps, at movements, at aesthetics, at ways of doing things even to practice, in order to be able to jam better, be able to communicate musically better.

It's all practice, but really for me, the goal of practising is so that when the spirit's in the room, I don't get in the way. So when the spirit's in the room and I'm, uh, strongly encouraged to do something specific, I'm able to reach it and not miss it. I'm not, I don't, I'm not gonna miss the sound. I'm not gonna be too winded and no, when the spirit's in the room, it's worth all the days and nights when I wake up and go, "Oh, I suck, but I'm gonna work to get better." And when the spirit's in the room, it's so life-affirming. This is quite the teaching.

Day one of tap class with Ethel Bruneau, she says, we steal steps. In this room, we steal steps, but we always pay homage. We always reference, we always acknowledge that. And that's, she said that's how the dance moves forward... it was frustrating up until very recently, (laughs) I'm a slow bloomer. She said, uh, "you ain't gonna create nothing. It's all been done before." What? So then why am I here? It's all been done before, uh, but you are new and that's where style comes in, your personal style.

So it is, I met someone, for example—Oscar Peterson has a much better story of this— but keeping it with tap, I met someone who studied, and studied Jimmy Slyde, just studied these tapes and probably even met Jimmy and studied and their form, their aesthetic, their style was Jimmy Slyde. And I think that's a beautiful ode to that master. It's a beautiful display of this person's love for that master. But my teacher, Ethel, would've slapped me six ways from Sunday: "what are you doing? Jimmy's already done the thing. What are, who are you? Who are you?"

And even though stealing is a part of tap dance culture, not even talking about appropriations, let's just, but stealing, even though stealing is a part of tap dance culture, the whole point, the whole point of the practice is to figure out who you are, who are, you know, that's why we toil and shed on the wood so that when we meet each other in person, whether another dancer or a musician or singer, we can connect as ourselves to this old jazz standard or create something new together, the option, the world is open.

It's a beautiful thing. I remember I used to live in Austin, Texas. There's this, uh, musician, singer-songwriter. Her name is Datri Bean, and had the good pleasure of working with her, tapothetically, while she's singing and playing, but also had the great pleasure of just enjoying her music. So this particular night, it was date night, went out with my now wife, Tanya, to see her perform, it was outdoors. Austin summertime, it's always summer in Austin, even when it's winter, with all due respect. So we're outside and she's playing in front of us, and the background is this body of water. And the moon was out, so you couldn't see that many stars, also we're in the city, so you can't see that many stars anyways, but it was a beautiful scenic moment, and she sang the perfect song that had me in tears.

At the end of the day, I know that all I want is to connect, and to feel what the artist is trying to give.

Jacob Zimmer: Yeah.

Travis Knights: It's a beautiful gift to receive and to give. I say that to say that when it comes to all the do- dads and gizmos, great. Can you make me feel tapothetically, I'm still like fighting with my teacher and a lot of the elders though, it's all been done.

I fundamentally disagree. If you go back in time, tap dance is born before jazz, which isn't saying much 'cause it's always connected with music and jazz is now this big catchall term for a bunch of different things that are, that have happened. So when you go back to Bill Bojangles Robinson and look at how he's dancing and the music that he's dancing to, it makes perfect sense.

It fits right in, it's this, he described it. His style is... he rags his taps, and at the time, rag time was the thing. And then directly after him, the generation after him, there's this genius named John Bubbles who tap dances with bebop phrasing before bebop's a thing. And then less than a decade after John Bubbles is at his height, bebop is very much a thing, but in a timeframe, in a time period when you can't press, play all the communities together, the musicians, the dancers, the singers, the visual artists, the poets, they're all, it's all a mélange. It's easy to understand the influence of the tap dancer in the cultural landscape... and you go forward into time. So you go from rag time to swing era to bebop to postbop.

Cut to 1996 or '95, I'm sorry. Here comes Savion Glover and gang in a show directed by George C. Wolfe called "Bring in 'da Noise, 'Bring in 'da Funk." We go from this political, we go from this political aesthetic of this class act. This Coles and Atkins class act. I say political aesthetic of suit and tie because at the time, Black people needed to prove their humanity to the power structure to the social structure. But cut to 1995 and you have Savior and Glover and gang. Dreadlocks and jeans and rip this and just ugh, and reclaiming the form, reclaiming their humanity and not having to prove anything to anyone.

... It is what it is. And that show fundamentally changed dance. It changed the aesthetic, it changed the approach. And the trick is with the further we go into time is that you have to, for the young dancers or anything that you do it, it would benefit you to understand where things come from, the lineage and the progression, so that you understand that even though you learned this craft at this point in time, that doesn't mean you necessarily have access to all that came before in terms of your ability to do the thing.

But the more you research, the more you go, "oh," and you understand, it's just bananas how much there is that I have to learn. So all that to say is that innovation, relationship. I won't say tension. I think it's tension if it doesn't work, but the relationship between innovation and tradition is very important.

When I dance, I envision, and sometimes depending on the show, if "Ephemeral Artifacts," certainly I welcome the ancestors in the room as a way to thank them. Hey, hopefully you enjoy what I'm doing. Thank you. 'Cause I wouldn't be doing this without you, and I'm trying to move forward. For example, in the live version of "Ephemeral Artifacts", which we are working with this vibrotactile technology that we used to create accessibility for the deaf and hard of hearing that we had belts that we gave out to the audience, and every time I tapped on the surface, there'd be this vibration that they can feel through the belts. But in, in doing that, we learned that, oh, this is great for the deaf and hard of hearing, but really everyone could benefit from this technology. I have it right here, actually.

Hold on...I want to play more with it because as a human being, my life has been changed by shows, by film, by music that has just connected with me enough. If I can figure out a way to connect even more, give you more of that sense that we are not alone. Not only are we not alone, but we can understand each other in this moment.

Even though you're crying in this moment, life is, and you don't listen. You don't need to cry necessarily. Maybe it's pure joy. I don't know why I go there. It's 'cause I love Radiohead. Anyways, but in this moment, you know we're connected. So yeah, that's all we got there.

Malcolm Gladwell has this book you're probably aware of. It's called "Outliers." It's this the untold story of success and I think it's a good launching point for people that are interested this topic of genius, of success of people that break through not spontaneous.

Having said that, Savion Glover was in a unique position. I have a podcast as you can tell, by my joy of talking, but I interview tap dancers and people around tap dance, and he's like the white whale guest and, God willing, when I get to speak with him, my questions will be around one single topic. It's his time as a 10, 12 year old child in the Broadway show, "Black and Blue."

That show is choreographed, wow, choreographed by Dr. Henry LeTang, whose phenomenal genius choreographer, Frankie Manning, who, if you know anything about the Lindy Hop scene, he's like a deity in the Lindy Hop scene. Fayard Nicholas of the Nicholas Brothers...the dance captain was Dianne Walker. The show was headlined by Dr. Jimmy Slyde, Lon Cheney, Dr. Bunny Briggs. It's like the cast was phenomenal, to say the least, but here's the thing. They did an eight-month run in Paris, I believe, before that, and I think it may have even been two years, suffice to say he spent a lot of time between Paris and New York with these elder states-people, with these masters of the form.

But in Paris specifically, I'm sure it happened in New York. I can't wait to ask him. But in Paris specifically, the elders took this young kid to the jazz clubs in Paris after the show, or he learned how to jam, where he learned how to communicate with the musicians, where he learned the actual thing.

Because what people see on stage, that's choreography, that's one thing. But when we're talking about jazz and jazz culture, we're talking about improvisation. We're talking about communication, we're talking about an understanding of rhythm, time, melody, all of these things that have to work into one that looks so easy and fluid.

But the amount of work it takes for that spirit, as I spoke about earlier, to come into the room is phenomenal. And this 10 to 12 year old child had access to master teachers. So that when he's, what was he, I think he was twenty one when he choreographed. “Bring in 'da Noise, Bring in 'da Funk”, he was literally at the top of the field.

Like who, who else had that access? It was Savion. Yeah,

Sure. There's one thing, I encourage everyone listening to engage with a scene. If there is no scene, then create one for yourself. There's something specifically that's happened within tap dance and happening, where once upon a time before the internet, you can tell Los Angeles dancer, from a Chicago dancer, from a New York dancer, from a Montreal dancer, from in fact, because we're all in these like regional pockets and the funk, the Philadelphia flavour was very specific and thick, and you celebrated that difference.

But now that we all have access to each other now with YouTube and then all the Zooms, it's all bleeding into each other, which has its pros and cons, but I don't know, because, uh, my teacher taught me about how important style was. Your own personal style, your own personal approach.

I'm longing for, I'm longing to be a part of a scene, a local scene, a regional scene where my colleagues are... there's like an osmosis. We don't look or dance alike, but there's an osmosis in terms of our style to where a person from the outside could go, ah, you from Toronto? Yeah, man, I love that y'all, y'all.

That's what I'm looking for. But aside from that, more importantly than that, community is life-affirming. It, it gets lonely. There's enough alone time, on the wood that I have practising, but community is life-affirming. When I do manage to have a good state of mind and go out in aboot, I do value that time with my people on the wood.

The weirdos in tap shoes as we sniff out musicians to play with community is important. Let's not forget that in the age of social media.