Well, I've been there, sitting in that same chair
Whispering that same prayer half a million times
It's a lie, though buried in disciples
One page of the Bible isn't worth a life
There's nothing wrong with you
It's true, it's true
There's something wrong with the village
With the village
Something wrong with the village
Songwriters: Andrew Jackson / Andrew Pearson / Stephen Wrabel
“Did you cry?” said our youngest Matty as he and his girlfriend came through the door with bouquets of flowers (his) and arms full of the inevitable late-night Maccas run.
He was saying it to his mum, my Fi, and it was a pretty safe bet: There are always tears. “Four times,” I said, and I wasn’t joking. He looked momentarily surprised but knew it was true.
The end-of-year dance show is a big deal in our house, and even after all these years, there are always tears—mostly of joy and pride, but some of sadness. Often, it has been myself and the kids' nana, Fi’s mum, who would sit there in the dark, witnessing my daughter Thea, her granddaughter, and well up in the dark, overwhelmed at this creature of such talent and beauty that has come from us.
Last night was spectacular. Each year, the show becomes more elaborate and professional than the last, yet still maintains a strong feeling of family and community. I should probably tell you a bit about it - you’re probably thinking, gee, Nick, it’s just a dance recital, we all have to go to see our tamariki and the mokos do their Christmas shows and they’re lovely and all that, but you’re not really going to write about one are you?
Three large trucks were needed to take the set and the hundreds of costumes from the West Auckland studio to the Bruce Mason Theatre in Takapuna. It is always a sell-out. The lighting and effects are incredible, and the music - there were a couple of times last night when I thought - I’ll have that track for a newsletter, and I’ve certainly done that in the past.
Let’s start by saying this is a bit different from ye old Christmas Carols and your lovely offspring being a talking papier-mâché tree, lovely as I’m sure that is. For example, here is one of the routines Thea was in earlier this year:
Look, I might be biased, but for some of the numbers, you’d think it was a professional troupe. For many of the dancers, you’d be right; they are. However, neither the standard nor the venue has always been that way.
As you sit watching between numbers, your mind inevitably wanders back to those early years. In 2008, we moved to Te Atatu Peninsula, leaving our ticking time-bomb of a plaster house in Avondale. We came for the quarter-acre sections, solid brick houses after a cladding one, and mostly for opportunities for our kids—the local primary school, Matipo, a short walk across playing fields from our place, served us well.
Soon after we arrived 16 years ago, we got involved in the local dance school, DanceBeat, and I remember that first end-of-year show.
In the old community centre, a two-storey brick building deemed unsafe and torn down years ago in the wake of the Christchurch earthquakes, despite having stood there for decades. The performances were somewhat shambolic, with bemused parents trying to interpret what the dances were about, let alone the costumes. A good outcome was your child still being up on the stage, which seemed so immensely high, smiling at the end of the number, but the parents couldn’t be prouder, and the children developed and learnt from passionate, wonderful teachers.
Over time, the show grew bigger. For many years, there was an annual pilgrimage to Massey High, which has an average reputation but a fantastic theatre. In 2018, we moved to a new dance school off the Peninsula, in New Lynn, DANZA. At the time, there were just four students; this year, they’ve grown to 500 students, and their families.
Here’s a clip of Omega, one of the Hip Hop troupes Matty and Thea have been in, from earlier this year:
The shows have become grander and more elaborate, and the venue has continued to grow to meet demand. My favourite was the Mercury, although it was hot as hell in there at this time of the year. Then, these last few years, it has been the Bruce Mason.
I probably make it all sound very straightforward, but of course, an immense amount of work goes into preparation for the end-of-year show and throughout the year. It has been our life for well over a decade.
If you’ve ever been involved with kids competing at the highest level, you'll know what I mean. Swimming, rowing, or whatever it is, dominates your life.
For us, that has meant years of dance classes pretty much every night of the week. Most weekends through those years have been about dance comps, many of which take place outside of Auckland. Each year sees trips from Whangarei to Cambridge, Tauranga, Christchurch, Wellington, and Palmerston North—we’ve been everywhere, man - Hawaii, Phoenix, Australia.
Well, Fi, Matty, and Thea have. Often, I’ve been home with Johnny, attending football games and looking after dogs. It’s fair to say there have been times when I’ve wished for a more normal life, one where people planned trips that weren’t about dance or relaxing more than the two weeks a year dance stops before it all starts again. But then, you find yourself sitting at that end-of-year show with tears of joy and your heart swelling, and you wouldn’t change a thing.
I can remember saying that to Fi after a show, probably the best part of a decade ago, as she directed proceedings backstage with a headset and a clipboard: “Forget all the times I’ve been grumpy about the amount of dance; it is all worth it.”
In addition to the regular competitions throughout the year, there are many other events, including the Pride parade, Christmas in the Park in front of a hundred thousand people, the Auckland Santa Parade, and various other activities. This year, they had a stand-out achievement at PACANZ, the Performing Arts Competitions Association of New Zealand, essentially dance nationals, with their troupe Madame Kelly coming third in the country across all dance styles.
This is a clip of them from earlier in the year, but it will give you some idea. My daughter Thea is in the front when they are in the wedge formation; she then gets kicked over.
There is great pride in seeing what they have achieved, representing NZ overseas. Some of you might recall when Matty was in a crew that came second in the World Hip Hop International championship in Arizona a couple of years ago. They have reached high standards, and I am incredibly proud of their talent and dedication. As much as that, though, I am incredible proud of my wife.
Again, as any of you who have kids who reach an elite level in something will know, that doesn’t happen without tremendous support. For all these years, she has been there, every rainy Sunday afternoon in school halls or bright Saturday morning hitting the road. Not only supportive but encouraging, she is also a brutal critic, picking up minor things that look just fine to me.
Over the years, she has organised things backstage, costumes, making sure people were at the right place at the right time. Even now, with our own kids essentially grown, most nights for the last fortnight, she has been at the studio or even the theatre during dress rehearsals. She has a sewing machine and will travel, adjusting costumes, replacing zips, and doing everything else needed to make things right on the night. These aren’t even our own kids; they are now students of our daughter, who is now a teacher.
You get a great sense of the passage of time from that show, seeing kids and families that have grown. Young adults, whom we’ve known since they were little and were the ones being cajoled not to fall off the stage or leave their props behind. Realising that part of your life has passed as another year of children finishes.
When Ben, one of the studio owners, spoke last at the end of last night's prize-giving about that cohort of kids who had started with them as little ones and would now go on to other things, he wasn’t the only one shedding a tear.
Now it is someone else’s little one, another child sweeping the prizes, and you remember the times in the spotlight of your own precious wee people, and it tears at your heart.
It is easier for us with Thea transitioning into teaching; she continues, and it was awesome seeing her in the “Teacher’s Dance”, where once a year, the teachers choreograph and prepare their own performance - the talent is immense, and it is different, no longer child-like, now fully adult professional dances - and your heart swells in a different way to see your own child who was once nervous and new managing a large group of kids like a seasoned pro.
In my opinion, the arts matter more than other things. AI and robotics will replace many roles in life, but not art. For all our technical advances, no robot is ever going to compose a piece of music or show such beauty and elegance dancing on a stage that it makes you cry—not any time soon, anyway.
You’re seldom sorry you saw a play, a show, any sort of artistic performance - but you regret those you miss.
It makes me so angry that we have a government with spokespeople for the arts who take pride in knowing nothing about them and who want to close down funding for innovative work in humanities. It makes me wonder what my kids must think to see a government and a mayor who see the Arts and Culture as an expense to be cut and not as the lifeblood of our existence.
Last night, as one teacher left for West End Dreams in London, Ben and Jade, the studio's owners, handed out awards while holding their young baby close to a remarkable group of teachers. You would scarcely know such talent exists; the studio is home for all involved.
Today, I was going to write about something else, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the events of last night; I hope some of you found it worth reading nonetheless.
To end today, here is the Village, which was one of the songs performed to last night:
If you’d like to subscribe to Nick’s Kōrero you can save 25% for the next 12 months with my Christmas special. Have a fabulous day, all you lovely people. 🙂
Thanks for the lovely feedback. It was nice writing about something other than politics, but I was a little nervous as to how it might be received. Probably shouldn't have been eh 🙂
This is good because there won't be much in the way of politics for a while, and end-of-year awards, predictions, and hypothesising can only go so far.
A wonderful, heartfelt outpouring of pride, dedication and love for your family Nick. It’s so uplifting and rare for someone to display their feelings so publicly. You have an incredibly talented crew in your house, mainly I suspect due to the support you and Fi have given them over the years. Well done Nick, you got it right👍. One aspect strikes me about your family. You’re obviously not afraid to bare your feelings in good times and no so good times. If only more were able to share as you do the world would be a better place. Fabulous dancing and a great song to sign off with. There’s a whole lot wrong in the village we inhabit. Please keep up your inspirational efforts to make our streets in the village ones we enjoy living in. They are never wasted. (Neither are the musical interludes. Old or new they’re always worth hearing 🎶👍👍) Cheers to you and your whanau and many thanks for a great year’s Korero😊