Under the Spandex

Inside the strange, synchronized world of Philly dance squad Club Lyfestile.


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Published: Jul 25, 2007

I WANNA LIVE FOREVER: Club Lyfestile (above) took on rivals DanceTron at Key West in May.

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In an old North Philly warehouse filled with carpentry equipment and musical instruments, 15 people are cutting and sewing spandex, punching out buttons, painting cardboard and practicing dance moves.

No, this is not some kind of Fame-themed sweatshop; it's the part-time headquarters of Club Lyfestile, a Philadelphia-based DIY "dance squad." They are getting ready for their first-ever tour, which will take them all around the Northeast, ending with a homecoming show on the 26th here in their headquarters, rechristened Adventure Island.

This "dance squad" concept is a little hard to explain. Basically: Take a bunch of people who like to dance, age 20-35, mostly untrained in the classical sense and working occupations as varied as pizza delivery guy and union organizer, and get them to do synchronized dances at parties and clubs. Their moves, set to dance/electronic music, combine elements from cabaret shows, street dance and conceptual dancing — like if your art school friends went out clubbing and re-enacted scenes from a glam version of Bring It On.

On their Web site (www.clublyfestile.org), the group's genesis is described in vaguely religious terms, complete with commanding voices from on high and the mysterious phrase: "Out of a lie, the Truth." The actual story is more a tale of pranks and perseverance than Old Testament brimstone.

"A few of us were going out dancing a lot last summer and we started joking around about going out with matching outfits and synchronized dances," says Alan, a gangly, long-haired young man who goes by VERSAsTILE (each member has a separate dance name that they use at shows).

A friend said she'd found 15 matching tracksuits at a thrift store and before you could say velour, around 20 people said they wanted into the dance squad.

Except those matching track suits, surely some kind of holy grail of thrift store hunting, didn't exist — that turned out to be a little white lie meant to motivate Alan. Mission accomplished: The group started practicing at the Philadelphia Institute of Advanced Study and the aforementioned Adventure Island warehouse.

They preformed at parties, and to make up for the phantom tracksuits, the members began making their own costumes, mostly out of stretchy and versatile spandex.

Even the stretchy space-age wonder has its downside, though. "At one show my first costume didn't come back completely after it stretched out and was a little loose around the crotch area," says Dave, aka Jovius. His worst fears were realized at the end of one sequence where everyone strikes a pose. "My freeze position is with arms and legs spread and I fell out but had to keep the freeze," says Jovius. "I saw a couple people catch a glance and then turn away and pray a prayer."

Wardrobe malfunctions notwithstanding, Club Lyfestile's first big challenge came after they heard about DanceTron Infinity (www.myspace.com/dancetroninfinity). DanceTron is a rival Philly dance squad founded around the same time as Club, but without any communication between the groups.

The two squads organized a dance battle at Key West on May 10, which packed the mirrored dancing area with hip and weird young people. It was declared a tie.

After the success of the battle, it was time to take the show on the road. "It seemed inevitable," says Jay, also known as Azimuth. "It's kind of hard to do a lot of shows in Philly — we want to make each one big and special. Now we can take the same show to different places."

The triptik calls for stops at clubs, fields and music festivals and even some guerrilla dancing at strip malls. Despite it being their first tour, Lyfestile also managed to secure an unlikely sponsorship gig, thanks to John Redden of Hands and Knees fame, with Glaceau to provide the dancers with an unlimited supply of urbanite drink Vitaminwater. Club Lyfestile plans to give out the brightly colored semi-health drinks free to fans at every show.

The Lyfestilians do take their DIY Dance ethic seriously: They funded the tour themselves (Glaceau is just providing drinks), and everything involved in their dances — music, costumes, props and moves — is made by members of the group. When they perform, that passion shines as brightly as their sequins.

Their bright and tight costumes, mostly fluorescent, look like some costumer's coked-out fantasy for an '80s exercise video, and lend the dancers a surreal air as they move and writhe against the backdrop of post-industrial Philly.

Each member has at least two costumes, and the group performs three separate dances: the Original Dance, a mock version of their Dance Battle; and a secret new dance concocted for the tour that features props and promises to combine the past and the future. It looked like a fun, theatrical version of conceptual dance during a pre-tour practice.

The main impetus for the members, though, is just to dance and have fun with each other.

"We're a bunch of like-minded dancers," says Foxett. "Once you get into it, your ET light goes up and you know you're in a band of brothers, like Iwo Jima."

(w_dean@citypaper.net)

Club Lyfestile Dance Party, Thu., July 26, 8 p.m., free, with DJs Heavy Flow, Vytear and John Redden, Adventure Island, 3217 Collins St., www.clublyfestile.org.