Well, you know how it is, city life that is! If the city teaches you one thing it teaches you how to navigate people! Some people invite collisions (Ouch!), others want to brush up against you (or vice versa!). Others take a side step left or left/left/right, just to keep you in their sights. Fitting, then that the topic of this dissertation is dance, or more precisely a show. I'll have it that we quickly flow or travel from the nuances of the spoken word to the pressing needs of dance language.
Chicago the Musical, I caught it just the other night, boshed me over the head with a swift kick, a discordant pirouette and All... that... Jazz.
I caught the touring version with Jennifer Ellison (precocious and energetic) as Roxy and Dawn Spence as Velma Kelly. No doubt, Spence upstaged Ellison with a sterling and accomplished performance. Her spotlight scene, dancing to impress Roxy was like an education in Jazz Dance, flowing and writhing like a muscular ballerina.
The dancing from the male department was muted, until the spotlight fell on them. By hell! Can these guys dance! C'est superb!
Perhaps the most important thing about Chicago, other than its undoubted ability to entertain is its popularity. Why, now is Chicago sooo big?
Well, if you stop for breath while being carried left, right, reach, step ball change with the cast, you'll begin to see its resonance.
Crime, law suits, greed, promiscuity, a selfish society and, in one scene, nostalgia for the past when people "had some class". Sound familiar? Thought so!
Chicago is just so Post-feminist! These ladies are the Spice Girls (apologies to the cast) of the '50's.
John Kander's Trad. Jazz score feverishly bounces along, repetitious, sleazy and witty, like a smaller-scale, Bernstein's West Side Story.
Ultimately, Chicago's direction mixes Modernist references with wit, guffaws and sheer entertainment. Chicago is like Postmodernism before Postmodernism ever came around!
Still haven't caught the show?
Go see!
After the show I got stuck in a car park for an hour, in one of Britians' finest cities! I lit a cigarette and figured how to escape the jam and join the traffic flow. With "Razzle Dazzle" still circumnavigating my brain I dropped a gear and moonwalked home!
30 Sept 2006
28 Sept 2006
from THE DAYLIGHT SECTIONS (43)
night blooming cereus,
pure repertoire
performed once,
embodies affair
de coeur
to equal
infinite,
accumulated shinelight
pure repertoire
performed once,
embodies affair
de coeur
to equal
infinite,
accumulated shinelight
27 Sept 2006
25 Sept 2006
p-Ha-c=e
midial verschicken slaier-montaggia (aller fondgrave (oben) ni /*]]>*s-t-y-le
style le content="Nonnus swich Streich-fallen.
terreur osculatriculate.
erhalten (big-slick slaierdiarrheologics
petit zu vous le OH- dieses spasticpiHce) rabie); zu syndpoche de ouais
d'ulcerwood XHTML colitastrophy ohne slur-mantic megrim,
*taps (swich eines founding)
--meta probeability de le rel="copyright" piHce)
de kann pot perds
gehen. entropomachia.
24 Sept 2006
24/09/2006
I meant to write nothing today. I am currently watching time bosh mi ov'r the head and work crash like a ship. my images won't load down onto blog and websites - the sacking of employees is a necessity before the company goes sinking 5,000 fathoms an' then some.
Mind you the dance is still contagious, like a still music. Three meetings next week and a harbour unnamed terror incognito! Or the seed of a trout. The clock is still fathomable as words tumble to page an' the rumble in my ruffled 'ead.
Tony Blair is post, or past, whatever! We have no opposition to New Labour. I shall roboticize myself in the new market for stringent figures, inhumaness, tighter deadlines, no pensions and no hope of a new job.
We are all administrators holding on to an England that lives in a memory or a poem like Jerusalem. The tighening of centralized power cannot escape the fall of identity. We hunt like sharks for sex to blight the headache of a postmodern nothingness, immanent and half existent.
Either that, the gym, beer, cigs,
start your own business
Mind you the dance is still contagious, like a still music. Three meetings next week and a harbour unnamed terror incognito! Or the seed of a trout. The clock is still fathomable as words tumble to page an' the rumble in my ruffled 'ead.
Tony Blair is post, or past, whatever! We have no opposition to New Labour. I shall roboticize myself in the new market for stringent figures, inhumaness, tighter deadlines, no pensions and no hope of a new job.
We are all administrators holding on to an England that lives in a memory or a poem like Jerusalem. The tighening of centralized power cannot escape the fall of identity. We hunt like sharks for sex to blight the headache of a postmodern nothingness, immanent and half existent.
Either that, the gym, beer, cigs,
start your own business
21 Sept 2006
from THE DAYLIGHT SECTIONS (42)
wall-to-wall infatuation comes with an immunity to fragrance-free intention
I was explaining to my neighbor the beauty of gray walls
he is a young person cultured and he photographs night species in the desert
when it is time to return home he puts away the flashlight
not one of us is perfect in our application of the instruments
and whosoever shall become synonymous with accomplishment shall be bathed in history
now becomes the perfect altitude for an assessment by the nearby gods as plural as they look
as always come-to-mama waylays the stiff upper hemline of kinesics
I was explaining to my neighbor the beauty of gray walls
he is a young person cultured and he photographs night species in the desert
when it is time to return home he puts away the flashlight
not one of us is perfect in our application of the instruments
and whosoever shall become synonymous with accomplishment shall be bathed in history
now becomes the perfect altitude for an assessment by the nearby gods as plural as they look
as always come-to-mama waylays the stiff upper hemline of kinesics
20 Sept 2006
19 Sept 2006
16 Sept 2006
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