Watching
the 15 dancers on the big white rectangular mat while a multi-channel tape of
John Cage’s Roaratorio boomed from all sides, was, on one hand, a simple
pleasure, like watching the wind blow leaves around, or watching kids in a
playground, or dogs in a dog run.
Both
the music and the movement had snatches of Irishness—jigs, step dances, all
kinds of recreational dances. But where the audio immersed you in an ocean of
everything—baby cries, traffic sounds, bird caws, Cage mumbling unintelligibly
as well as snatches of Irish-sounding music—the movement was more focused.
There were 7 couples. They each came out to dance, to show their steps. Then they
were joined by the others. Couples parted and recombined.
Then
it happened again. Attention shifting from couples, to the group, and back to
couples. And more often than not, one dancer would sit down on a stool on
stage, and watch the others.
There
wasn’t a story, but there was a lot going on. It was blithe and often funny—a
distracted glance at kids goofing off on the dancefloor—but there were moments
when it suddenly became drama. Melissa Toogood was not as slim and acrobatic
and weightless as the others, but when she moved, you knew something serious had just happened to her, and she was telling you about it.
There
were these amazing guys—Daniel Madoff, Brandon Collwes, and Rashaun Mitchell,
who moved like bubbles in a fizzy drink, and made hyperspeed step dancing funny
and beautiful, besides a major athletic accomplishment.
After
about an hour there the hall filled with the squawking of seagulls, and the
dancers picked up their stools and walked off. That’s all. After a final
performance New Years Eve 2010, they’re disbanding.