Back-country tunes and slick city getups collide on the dance floor at Lee's Liquor Lounge. They spin out onto the sides, push back the tables and chairs, and still manage to bump into them.
People run into each other, crunching toes and smashing metatarsi.
But Lee's is only the most visible part of a bigger picture. During the past four years the Minneapolis swing scene has grown from a loose network of lonely geeks into a legitimate subculture, with its own sub-subgroups, dance camps, clubs, newsletters, fashions, and choreographic styles. Excepting the vibe surrounding Vic Volare's shows at the Front, Minnesota swing bears no resemblance to the movie Swingers and has nothing to do with slurping martinis or porkpie hats and pin curls. In fact, the largest swing contingent in town is comprised of boomers, who do most of their dancing in classes, or clubs with ruefully un-cool names like the Minnesota West Coast Swing Club, Cindy's Swingers, the Land o' Loons Lindy Hoppers, and the Twin Cities Rebels. The very un -sceniness of the scene is part of its seduction.