Archives for category: Robert Forster can dance better than…

The ethereal Nureyev explores our deepest childhood memories with Junior Giscombe in mama used to say.

Sorrowful dance can be unbelievably heartbreaking, the visual depiction of sadness perhaps more potent even than words. Maybe a skilled dancer could pull this off; I remember the first time I saw Margot (Fonteyn – ed.), with her languid swan movements… hmm, enchanté.

In Mama used to say, Junior, however, aims not just at squeezing tears from the jaded, drug-addled audience of British Rhythm and Blues in the early eighties. He wants the infinite grey area of sadness yes, but tinged with an acceptance of it’s inevitability. Ambitious, you say, it can’t be done, I hear; well watch him!

Junior - dancing more potent than words

Junior wants his dance to convey the sorrow and pain at the death of a loved one, specifically his mother, but also the respect and happiness for everything she taught him. This he achieves through a reminiscence of his mother’s advice to a psychedelic cartoon backdrop (more on that later). Read the rest of this entry »

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Ne Yo: the dance of schizophrenic indecision

Closer is about Ne Yo yearning for the physical contact of a stranger, but failing to get closer due to his schizophrenic delusions.

He pursues a woman in a club and imagines with intense realism his quarry whispering in his ear; telling me/ she wants to own me/ control me/ come closer. Ne Yo can’t break himself away and indulges in sexual fantasies; I can taste her on my tongue/ she’s the sweetest taste of sin.

Were this not expanded upon, it would simply be another love in the club song and dance, but Ne Yo’s accompanying moves provide the conceptual depth needed to make it unique. Read the rest of this entry »

Jona Lewie: a dance study of social bondage

In you’ll always find me in the kitchen at parties, Jona Lewie decries his lack of popularity at social events, perpetually relegated to the party no dancing dungeon, the kitchen. Shiny linoleum, sharp corners, possibilities of broken glass; the kitchen’s unsuitability for swinging arms and legs is well deserved.

Lewie explores this awkward location with jilting, staccato movements; a jerking head twist to avoid a cupboard corner, an arm thrust to catch a falling mug. A commendable realism of kitchen dancing peril is created and Lewie breathes a corporeality into the stilted actions. Whilst at times it may appear that he is barely moving, this is instead a carefully crafted physical metaphor for his lack of social and sexual success. Lewie’s shy head bob is a nod of agreement. Read the rest of this entry »