PARIS — All eyes are on the round boxing ring, where dancers trade air flares instead of jabs under a bright spotlight. But the most influential person in the room stands in the shadows behind a turntable.
It’s where Stephen Fleg does his work.
More than a neutral referees but less than a dancer at center stage, DJs like him are the backbone of breaking competitions. The New York-based DJ, producer and B-boy is one of two DJs who will be at the controls of breaking’s Olympic debut at Place de la Concorde. DJ Fleg will split duties with Poland’s DJ Plash for the women’s competition Friday and the men’s event Saturday.
In an art form redefining Olympic sport, it’s no surprise that breaking is built on a unique relationship that doesn’t exist in other events.
“A referee is very much supposed to stay out of it, a judge is staying out of it, they’re completely separate from the event itself,” Fleg said. “What I’m doing is not. I have direct involvement.”
A B-boy of 25 years who deejayed his first event in 2005, Fleg is fully aware of the power he wields playing music for the dancers. He earned his spot by overseeing several Olympic qualifiers, including the final competition in Budapest in June. After the event, Zack Slusser, the vice president of Breaking for Gold USA and USA Dance, heard from first-time breaking spectators that it was the first sporting event they had attended in which no one was on their phone. Everyone was entrenched in the atmosphere Fleg created in.
“The DJ,” American B-boy Jeffrey “Jeffro” Louis said, “is everything.”
The best ones separate themselves by reading the room, understanding the dancers and then choosing the perfect songs that can take the room on an emotional journey, said B-girl Sunny Choi. There are aspects of a breaking battle that only some people experience, but everyone — judges, dancers and spectators — interacts with the music.
It should be funky, maintaining the essence of the art form that originated in the 1970s in the Bronx, while offering a mix of sounds. The drum break from which it derives its name name is key. The rhythm may be faster than some contemporary hip-hop, Fleg said, but some songs will be familiar to viewers tuning in to their first competition.
The International Olympic Committee licensed about 400 songs for the competition. They include vintage funk songs and 1990s and 2000s hip-hop. Some songs are brand new. Others will be comfortable classics for the breakers. Instead of the mechanical “pots and pans” sounds that DJs used for years to avoid copyright infringement issues during the early days of livestreamed events, viewers may recognize the sounds of James Brown, Busta Rhymes or A Tribe Called Quest.
But DJs don’t just pick good songs. Breakers have the opportunity to make songs stand out.
“Any song really has all these different notes, elements, instruments going on,” Slusser said. “The best dancers out there will highlight something that the audience probably isn’t hearing. … It’s totally interpretive and the best dancers are those that are able to capture those moments and also feed the audience exactly what that dancer is feeling.”
Dancers do not know which song they will get until it starts blaring over the speakers. Unlike gymnasts and figure skaters who practice their routines to set music for months before the Olympics, breakers have about five seconds to think of a plan before a round, Choi said.
Competitors are critiqued by a panel of nine judges who look for technique, vocabulary, originality, execution and musicality. The movements, from the high-flying power moves to intricate downrock movements on the floor, are a dancer’s vocabulary. They use them to write the sentences of each battle’s story.
The DJ, with his musical selection, chooses the plot.
“It’s a conversation between the breakers,” Slusser said. “But it’s a conversation contextualized by what the DJ does.”
Jeffro acknowledged DJs can control the result of a battle by giving a dancer a particularly difficult song. Fleg knows he can’t simply give his friends their favorite tracks. The IOC wanted to safeguard against potential bias by requiring DJs to present a set list of roughly three songs for each battle slot the day before the competition. They won’t know who will be dancing in each slot when they select the list. When the battle begins, DJs can choose only from their short list, selecting different sections, tinkering with transitions and looping in different effects.
With the discipline determined to maintain its roots while teetering between art and sport, the set list compromise is one of the few formatted elements that won’t be exactly authentic to the culture.
“We’ve taken so many cultural wins with this,” Fleg said. “Being big-picture, it’s just like, we get to play funk music, we get to play these classic breaks, we play new things, all these things are great representations of how breaking has been perceived. … I understand that we kind of have to put this aside to be able to make this come through at this level at the Olympics.”
Fleg says he has always been a fan of the Games and recalled attending the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. Getting to elevate the art he’s cherished for decades onto this global stage is a coveted opportunity. While he stops short of calling breaking a sport, he feels that the top breakers are the same level of athletic and creative genius as the basketball player who turns off a screen to drain a long three-pointer.
In his role, he’s ready to spin the perfect assist.
