I popped to Glasgow this evening, for a spot of light supper and a dance show (contemporary, rather than erotic. I was with my mum and dad.) We dined in this delicious cafe-cum-restaurant (Spanish Stew with Chorizo? YES PLEASE). It was made all the more atmospheric by the giant skeleton dressed as Jesus/A monk which towered over the seating area.
But then, the harmless skeleton faded into grey, and out of the quickening gloom emerged a far more sinister spectacle.

Or rather, it would have done, had it not been so bloody boring.

To give the rather pertinently named Y Dance their due, we were perhaps the wrong audience.
The show was full of mums and dads and aunties and other people who could be charmed by the terrible fish costumes and repetitive movements of one piece.

The finale, a dance choreographed to Mendelsson’s Hebridean Suite, was perhaps the only redeeming feature of the evening. By and large, however, the choreography was lazy and the young dancers, an inexperienced and stiff crowd, must have picked up on the laziness and certainly danced as if in response to it.

Ugh. A lazy review too, this, but really, inspired by Ydance, I just don’t really care.

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