by RAF KATIGBAK

It’s said that history often celebrates those who move against the grain as revolutionaries, while those who also make a profit are just shrewd businessmen. For the last 37 years, Miles Copeland has enjoyed not doing what people tell him, and he’s made a darn good living out if it to boot.

In the late ’70s, despite advice from music insiders, he became the manager of a trio of young, London-based upstarts with scruffy hair and an agitated affinity for mixing reggae, pop and rock, “We were told punk rock would never happen, that it was bullshit,” Copeland reminisces, “but they didn’t realize that it was a new, generational thing.” That band, which featured his brother Stewart on drums, was the Police.

According to box-office numbers, his latest creation, Bellydance Superstars—an explosive stage production consisting of 15 dancers blending traditional Middle Eastern dance with a variety of other ethnic styles—promises to be yet another reason for Copeland to say “I told you so” to his doubters. In its third year, BDSS has already become a smash hit in Europe, and now, with sold-out shows all over North America (including two nights in Vancouver), Copeland’s bevy of bellydancing beauties are poised to introduce the artform to a whole new Canadian audience.

Mirror: Your show’s being touted as the next Riverdance, but about 3.6 gazillion times sexier.

Miles Copeland: Definitely, and Riverdance only use the bottom half of their bodies, for chrissake! One of the big advantages we have is that we use every aspect of a woman’s body—in a proper way, of course. Riverdance is a one-trick pony, but a good one, mind you. But we have so many layers. It’s fascinating, you can’t just put it into a little box and go, oh, that’s this. That’s why no Irish show, no ballet, has a chance competing with me. They don’t have a chance! One, I’m good at what I do, and two, there’s nothing that has this social relevance.

M: Is that why bellydance seems to be catching on in the West—the social relevance?

MC: There are many reasons. It’s a whole woman’s movement, and it has political ramifications in that it’s promoting Middle Eastern music and arts at a time when we’re at war over there. Also, it’s various cultures coming together, and it’s a celebration of women—yet it started in a culture that is suppressive of women. It’s fascinating! The Sunday Times said [Bellydance Superstars] is the most important dance troupe in the world ’cause it’s the only dance troupe that has a social significance. An Arab can come to the show and realize that his culture can resonate in the West, and a Westerner can come to the show and say, hey, there’s more to Arabs than terrorism.

The unreal deal

M: Especially timely, considering the whole cartoon kerfuffle.

MC: Exactly, although I’m sure there are strict Muslims that have a problem with what we do. But hey, there are strict Christians who think dancing’s bad too. So I guess every society has their share of nutcases.

M: Some of the bellydance community criticizes you for promoting an unfair, idealized image of bellydancers.

MC: I think what was happening was that, because you can be a larger woman in this artform, all of a sudden you see younger, pretty girls promoting it, and you think, “Oh my God, they’re taking my dance away from me!” The fear was there, but has proved to be untrue. All the schools have told me that their classes have increased because of us. And it’s not just young girls, but everybody. What we’re saying is that if we make bellydance more popular, it gets more popular for everybody.

M: What about purists that question the authenticity of your show?

MC: Well, we’re not trying to do any kind of authentic this or that. I never liked authentic. The Police were never authentic, no thriving art is authentic. When we put it together, we had to deal with the fact that people have a short attention span, so it’s colourful, lots of costume changes. We also knew the music had to be great and work with a Western audience. It couldn’t be some weird, ethnic music where 20 minutes in, you’re going, “When is this gonna stop?” It’s fast moving, so nobody gets a chance to be bored. We throw in some Latin stuff, some Polynesian stuff, even some reggaeton. We do this flamenco thing and some people ask, “Why didn’t you have a real flamenco dancer?” If I wanted a real flamenco dancer, I’d go to a flamenco show! It’s the same thing if Britney Spears is doing a cover of a Beatles song. You don’t want to hear it exactly the way the Beatles did it. What would be the point? So I say to these purists, what the hell are you on about?

At Club Soda on Tuesday, March 7, 8 p.m., $30, all ages