Jason Noer

July 22 - Minnesota Orchestra Sommerfest Artistic Director Andrew Litton, accordionist/singer Dan Newton, and dancers Jason Noer and Ananya Chatterjea.

St. Paul dancer Jason Noer takes hip-hop from the streets to the ivory tower
...
Massive speakers pump beats big enough to create a small breeze as Jason Noer, one of the battle judges, stands near the deejay and surveys the scene.With his stubble-length haircut, oversized jacket, and dark knit cap, 30-year-old Noer blends easily with the younger crowd.But when the emcee introduces the "b-boy elder," everyone applauds.Whether they call him J-Rock, J-Sun, or,as when Noer was mentioned to some North Side hip-hoppers, "you mean ,Jason Abomination'?",they know him as an ambassador of hip-hop who is helping spread urban dance from the streets to the stage, solidifying its place in Minnesota's dance culture.
...
Noer, then just a kid living in St. Paul, wouldn't start dancing until junior high, after his family moved to northern California's East Bay,where street dance carried the same status as sports.Noer returned to Minnesota for his junior year of high school, and, while living in Burnsville, formed a breaking crew called the Battlecats and joined the Rhymesayers Collective, a loose group of hip-hop deejays, rappers, and graffiti artists.At 21, Noer headed back to California to attend Orange Coast College in Long Beach and to break with the respected West Coast Rockers crew.In school,as the only male in the dance program,he learned a variety of classical forms, including modern, ballet, tap, African, and Indian, in addition to choreography.Meanwhile, he "battled" his way around the country, incorporating these influences into his dance style.

Noer with Elijah at the Stone ArchFestival of the Arts

In 2002, Noer once again returned to Minnesota, to be near his son. (Yes, Elijah, now 7, breaks with his father.) This time, Noer found himself on the top of the heap, a confident "b-boy elder," and the oldest competing breaker in town. (In terms of rocking, he says, "I'm not going to say I'm the best around here, but nobody will battle rock me.") And now his training placed him in the unique position of being able to bring street dance into local schools and theaters."I'm the closest to the actual culture that there is in the Twin Cities as far as choreographers," Noer says."That's not to say other people don't have as much credibility, but I still compete,and you can't get any closer to it than that."For the last few years, Noer has been a part of a crew known as the Faculty, whose members perform and compete as well as conduct educational workshops and residencies.He teaches hip-hop and breaking at local dance studios, such as Zenon and Ballareteatro, and, this fall he joined the University of Minnesota's dance department as an affiliate faculty member to help teach "Exploring Hip-Hop," the U's first-ever semester-long hip-hop course.
...
Noer sees this diversity in his classes, instructing children as young as 5 and those old enough to be their grandmothers.One of his students has a wooden leg, another, only one hand.

At Noer's Tuesday night class at Ballareteatro in south Minneapolis, three teenage girls sporting pony tails and Converse high-tops practice their six-step,a push-up-cum-360-degree scuttle.The girls are panting when they finish."It takes a lot of energy to do footwork," Noer says sympathetically.

A five-foot-three-inch corkscrew of muscle, Noer demonstrates another move and calls out more instructions, indecipherable to the lay visitor, but understandable to the girls: "You're going to do a swipe, but your hands go into baby position."There's plenty of hip-hop curriculum,and lingo,to master: rocking (steps based on a vertical, back-and-forth motion), popping and locking (tensing and releasing groups of muscles, as with the Robot and Moonwalk dances), breaking (moves on the floor), and boogaloo (sexy and loose, lots of rolling hips and shoulders).

Noer uses these styles as his base but layers his own choreography with abstract movement.His experimental attitude seems reflected in the evening's choice of music: while one track sounds like gangsta rap, another could be Miami Vice background music, and a third has hints of Cab Calloway.The girls are quick to learn, but their thudding footsteps betray their beginner status, compared to Noer's fluid, marionette-like hops."I don't want to hear you falling," he says, stomping his foot on the ground to demonstrate.

"Stay light, stay on the balls of your feet."

Finding a place for hip-hop in mainstream dance has certainly kept Noer on his toes.For all his success, including a commission from the Walker Art Center, he has encountered his share of resistance.While classical dancers build their resumés with the names of prominent venues, breakers have no equivalent Kennedy Center, and must demonstrate credibility through battles or by dancing with other respected practitioners.What would the names Mr. Wiggles and Skeeter Rabbit,two legendary breakers Noer has studied with,mean to local arts boards reviewing grant applications, anyway?

But Noer says he is patient,and confident in the credibility of his art."Whatever dance form anybody else is in, they don't want to bring it against breaking," he says.
...
Noer, who hopes to one day become a professor of hip-hop culture, dance theory, and history, defines the tradition as "a blueprint for self-improvement."

"You get a lot of confidence and respect and discipline," he says."It teaches all the important things in life."And Noer hopes the future brings even more institutional support from schools, theaters, dance troupes, and arts organizations."Hip-hop is only 30 years old," he says.

Jason Noer, a b-boy member of Rhymesayers, has been serving as artist-in-residence at the Fred Moore Middle School Center for the Arts.

St. Paul dancer Jason Noer takes hip-hop from the streets to the ivory tower