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Urban Moves
Do you know your head-spin from your windmill? Thought not. Jack McKay gets down with Madrid’s breakdancing crews and learns some new moves

The success of the Cultura Urbana festival in June illustrated just how important hip-hop culture has become in Spain. B-boys and B-girls arrived in their thousands and the queues stretched for miles outside the entrance. Everywhere you looked the uniform was the same: loose-fitting clothes, caps and expensive trainers. Arguably the biggest buzz of the whole festival centred around the Eastpak stage where more than 20 crews competed for €4,000 in prize money. Even the appearance of rain didn’t deter the spectators, instead initiating a Mexican wave of hoods to be thrown forward.
The competition did, however, put the spotlight on of some of Madrid’s finest breakers and revealed a wealth of breakdancing talent among the city’s crews. For many of those who took part in Cultura Urbana, breakdancing forms an intrinsic part their lives and personalities. They are known as B-boys or B-girls, the B being short for break, the type of music that was the inspiration for the pioneers of the dance. Because breakdancing was something born in the soul clubs of 70s Harlem, then perfected on the streets, breakers prefer to practise in whatever communal space they can find, rather than use a dance studio.
Hosting the Breakdance Battle at Cultura Urbana was Alkonchel, a B-boy from the Vandals Crew and Madrid Kingz Flava. Alkonchel is among the many B-boys and B-girls who come regularly to perfect their dance moves on an empty concourse at Príncipe Pío Metro station.

As commuters make their way to the exit of the station, many stop to watch as a group of breakers perform handstands and headspins, kicking their legs into the air then bringing them down in a contrived and difficult-to-maintain positions. Alkonchel comes to train here “around five days a week for about three hours, but it depends”. The way he sees it, breakdancing is something that affects every aspect of his life. “I enjoy the dancing but it also affects the way I eat, the way I live, the way I relax — everything”. Every few weeks Alkonchel and his crew take part in breakdance tournaments where crews from all over the country try to go head-to-head in confrontations between individuals or groups who try to out-dance each other.
Although it sounds aggressive, battles were originally a way of settling disputes in a more creative and non-violent way. “I hurt myself sometimes, but only sprains or some kind of muscle injuries,” he says. In the station many of the B-boys spend a lot of time stretching and watching others perform. It’s also important that they practise Toprock — the upright dance movements performed before entering into a more complicated Downrock or Power move. I want to know about Alkonchel’s most complicated move. “I don’t know, but it’s maybe a combination of various moves all together. It’s difficult to say because it’s a mixture,” he offers.

Standing at the side is Sylvia, a dance teacher from Madrid who has come down to watch. “You can’t learn these moves in any classes,” she says. “You can only learn this stuff on the streets.” Wanting to learn herself, she has come down to watch, maybe join in and overcome her shyness. “These guys have been doing it for years,” she explains. It’s clear that the crew assembled in the station are experienced breakers as many resemble professional gymnasts in the execution of their moves. Although Alkonchel has been breakdancing for more than 11 years and is among the older of the B-boys present, there are a considerable number of younger dancers as well.

Telen has been breaking for around three years and it’s the sense that breakdancers aren’t gymnasts or professional dancers that he most likes about being a B-boy. “I’m Latino and I feel that breakdance is part of my history. It came from the Bronx and was developed by Latinos mixing Salsa and other dances. I feel part of it, that it’s my history.” At the moment the hardest move Telen can do is the windmill, a staple B-boy Power move in which dancers spin their outstretched legs in a circle around themselves on the floor, supporting their weight with their hands and back. Although Telen works and studies he still finds two hours every day to practise. But he believes this isn’t so obsessive, “It’s only like spending two hours a day running,” he says.

Conspicuous for being one of the few female dancers here tonight is Nered. Like Alconchel, Nered stresses the importance of hip-hop culture and primarily breakdancing on forming her personality. “Breakdancing affects my life in every way,” she says. “I wake up in the morning thinking of dancing and I listen to the music. In that way some people are different but I’m always thinking about it, about coming here to practise. If I go out with my friends then we’ll go to the park to dance,” she says. What she likes most about breakdancing is travelling and meeting new people. Nered began breaking in Barcelona where she believes there are more facilities and opportunities to breakdance. “In Barcelona there are lots of events, at least one a week. But I enjoy the competitions more in Madrid because we spend so much time training for them.”

Somewhere a stereo plays a generic hip-hop track and small groups of B-boys and B-girls stand around chatting, taking it in turns to practise a move in the centre of an informal circle. More and more people stop to watch them and you can see the desire to join in on several faces. With hip-hop taking over it won’t be long before new places to practise will need to be found. But although there are hundreds of schools in the capital that offer hip-hop dance classes, breakdancing in its purest form has to be learnt on the street.

art&culture entertainment virtual mag forum back issues services advertise classifieds multimedia mailinglist Click here to subscribe to the monthly InMadrid Newsletter!	Urban Moves Do you know your head-spin from your windmill? Thought not. Jack McKay gets down with Madrid’s breakdancing crews and learns some new moves The success of the Cultura Urbana festival in June illustrated just how important hip-hop culture has become in Spain. B-boys and B-girls arrived in their thousands and the queues stretched for miles outside the entrance. Everywhere you looked the uniform was the same: loose-fitting clothes, caps and expensive trainers. Arguably the biggest buzz of the whole festival centred around the Eastpak stage where more than 20 crews competed for €4,000 in prize money. Even the appearance of rain didn’t deter the spectators, instead initiating a Mexican wave of hoods to be thrown forward. The competition did, however, put the spotlight on of some of Madrid’s finest breakers and revealed a wealth of breakdancing talent among the city’s crews. For many of those who took part in Cultura Urbana, breakdancing forms an intrinsic part their lives and personalities. They are known as B-boys or B-girls, the B being short for break, the type of music that was the inspiration for the pioneers of the dance. Because breakdancing was something born in the soul clubs of 70s Harlem, then perfected on the streets, breakers prefer to practise in whatever communal space they can find, rather than use a dance studio. Hosting the Breakdance Battle at Cultura Urbana was Alkonchel, a B-boy from the Vandals Crew and Madrid Kingz Flava. Alkonchel is among the many B-boys and B-girls who come regularly to perfect their dance moves on an empty concourse at Príncipe Pío Metro station. As commuters make their way to the exit of the station, many stop to watch as a group of breakers perform handstands and headspins, kicking their legs into the air then bringing them down in a contrived and difficult-to-maintain positions. Alkonchel comes to train here “around five days a week for about three hours, but it depends”. The way he sees it, breakdancing is something that affects every aspect of his life. “I enjoy the dancing but it also affects the way I eat, the way I live, the way I relax — everything”. Every few weeks Alkonchel and his crew take part in breakdance tournaments where crews from all over the country try to go head-to-head in confrontations between individuals or groups who try to out-dance each other. Although it sounds aggressive, battles were originally a way of settling disputes in a more creative and non-violent way. “I hurt myself sometimes, but only sprains or some kind of muscle injuries,” he says. In the station many of the B-boys spend a lot of time stretching and watching others perform. It’s also important that they practise Toprock — the upright dance movements performed before entering into a more complicated Downrock or Power move. I want to know about Alkonchel’s most complicated move. “I don’t know, but it’s maybe a combination of various moves all together. It’s difficult to say because it’s a mixture,” he offers. Standing at the side is Sylvia, a dance teacher from Madrid who has come down to watch. “You can’t learn these moves in any classes,” she says. “You can only learn this stuff on the streets.” Wanting to learn herself, she has come down to watch, maybe join in and overcome her shyness. “These guys have been doing it for years,” she explains. It’s clear that the crew assembled in the station are experienced breakers as many resemble professional gymnasts in the execution of their moves. Although Alkonchel has been breakdancing for more than 11 years and is among the older of the B-boys present, there are a considerable number of younger dancers as well. Telen has been breaking for around three years and it’s the sense that breakdancers aren’t gymnasts or professional dancers that he most likes about being a B-boy. “I’m Latino and I feel that breakdance is part of my history. It came from the Bronx and was developed by Latinos mixing Salsa and other dances. I feel part of it, that it’s my history.” At the moment the hardest move Telen can do is the windmill, a staple B-boy Power move in which dancers spin their outstretched legs in a circle around themselves on the floor, supporting their weight with their hands and back. Although Telen works and studies he still finds two hours every day to practise. But he believes this isn’t so obsessive, “It’s only like spending two hours a day running,” he says. Conspicuous for being one of the few female dancers here tonight is Nered. Like Alconchel, Nered stresses the importance of hip-hop culture and primarily breakdancing on forming her personality. “Breakdancing affects my life in every way,” she says. “I wake up in the morning thinking of dancing and I listen to the music. In that way some people are different but I’m always thinking about it, about coming here to practise. If I go out with my friends then we’ll go to the park to dance,” she says. What she likes most about breakdancing is travelling and meeting new people. Nered began breaking in Barcelona where she believes there are more facilities and opportunities to breakdance. “In Barcelona there are lots of events, at least one a week. But I enjoy the competitions more in Madrid because we spend so much time training for them.” Somewhere a stereo plays a generic hip-hop track and small groups of B-boys and B-girls stand around chatting, taking it in turns to practise a move in the centre of an informal circle. More and more people stop to watch them and you can see the desire to join in on several faces. With hip-hop taking over it won’t be long before new places to practise will need to be found. But although there are hundreds of schools in the capital that offer hip-hop dance classes, breakdancing in its purest form has to be learnt on the street.