They've got the beat
Everett’s Phunk Phenomenon studio teams compete and win in the world of hip-hop dance
Kyle Brooks stands on his head and spins like a blond blur to the thud of music. Eddie Mandell, Jordan Follins, Keenan Shelton, and Crystal Starkey all watch and then give their own short demonstrations of freestyle hip-hop moves.
The group, whose ages range from 11 to 16, has returned from the 2010 USA and World Hip Hop Dance Championships held last month in Las Vegas. Each of them was on one of two crews that won gold — a junior team named Lil Phunk Boyz and a varsity crew named Phunk Allstars. Of the nine medals awarded in their categories, the teams took four overall.
The dancers learned and perfected their art in a small studio with the big name Phunk Phenomenon Dance Complex, located at the back of a
The studio starts with junior crews, ages 7-13, then varsity, 14-18, and finally adult, 18-30. The performers come in all sizes and colors, and Briggs-Connor is the leader who drives them to do better. What she lives for is achievement. She also happens to own the place.
Briggs-Connor looks great after having her son Aaron a mere 10 months ago. But then you expect that from a woman who has danced all her life and was a
For the past four summers, her hip-hop dancers have endured a six-hour-a-day, six-week program in the studio to learn the choreography for championship competition. No lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer for them. They also take lessons at Phunk Phenomenon during the school year — gymnastics, hip-hop, break dancing. Keenan has spent so much time at the studio this summer he calls it his house.
But this regimen pales next to the rigors of training in Las Vegas, where they put down a dance floor in empty meeting rooms and practice, sometimes until 2:30 a.m. “I’d sleep, eat, and wait for the next practice,’’ recalls Eddie, 11.
To compete there is not cheap. Each crew member — there are eight on a team — must raise a steep $1,200 to cover plane fare and hotel, plus more for meals and incidentals. The teams hold car washes and performances to raise money, and parents kick in as much as they can. In addition, around 100 family members and friends flew out on their own dime this year to watch the competition.
All the dancers came to Phunk Phenomenon to learn. Some, like Jordan, 11, came with the dancing gene.
“My parents used to dance,’’ he says. “My dad was a break dancer and my mom was a classical dancer.’’
Keenan, meanwhile, has been dancing for as long as he can remember. “I’ve always danced. I’d see stuff on TV,’’ he says. “My mother took me here because I had too much energy and needed to release it.’’
Briggs-Connor got started early herself. She started dancing at home in Chelsea when she was 3. “My mom always noticed me dancing; I’d be watching ‘Grease’ on TV,’’ she recalls. “So she put me in classes. I learned tap dancing first, then tap and jazz styles, a bit of swing dancing, the jitterbug. I was drawn to Michael Jackson. I liked hip-hop music.’’
By 16, she was an assistant dance teacher at Chelsea High School while a student there. She went to Wheelock College to pursue a degree in preschool teaching, and she became a Patriots cheerleader. That was a turning point for her.
“They taught me everything as a professional dancer I know,’’ she says. “The training, the work ethic. To be part of that franchise was an amazing experience. I was never as focused.’’
More than seven years ago, Briggs-Connor took a chance and rented a studio of her own in Everett. She was terrified, but attracted enough students to cover the rent. Five years ago, she moved to her current site, which is larger, and her students now number over 350. “It pays for itself,’’ she says about the operation. She takes no money to work with her competitive teams.
“We’ve come full circle,’’ she says, referring to women her age who grew up dancing. “We danced as kids and now we own studios and we’re teaching it.’’
Her husband, Rick Connor, has never danced a day in his life, she reports. Connor, an Everett police officer, drives the youngsters to shows and acts as their booking agent.
When it comes to personality types, Briggs-Connor is somewhere beyond “A.’’ Asked what she does to relax, she says she goes to the gym. There’s a lot of love but little peace at home with two boys, the baby, Aaron, and Jared, 5. “There’s no relaxation with kids that young,’’ she says.
Plus, she and her husband also give special care to Jared, who suffers from the extremely rare Sanfilippo syndrome, a lethal disease without a cure that progressively destroys a child’s central nervous system. Briggs-Connor says Jared can’t talk and will eventually lose the ability to eat. Life expectancy is usually 10 to 20 years. When he was 2, she was told there were just nine other children in Massachusetts who had the disease.
Both parents, it turns out, carried the gene that produces the syndrome. Neither had any idea, and Aaron is free of it. Her hip-hop students wear black T-shirts with the words “Hip Hop For Hope’’ written on them in purple in honor of Jared. They participate in charity events to raise money and awareness about his condition.
Briggs-Connor does not separate her personal and professional lives. “It’s all in one,’’ she says. “Work is therapy for me. There’s no light yet at the end of the tunnel, but if I sat home and thought about Jared, I’d be more depressed. We bring him home and love him every day.’’
Sam Allis can be reached at allis@globe.com. 
