Glover responded: "Alastair Macaulay, I am going to give you a big fat kiss. Alastair Macaulay, what a dweeb" -- and then added he was "just kidding," reports Post dance critic Leigh Witchel.
Not only dancers. Woodpeckers, electric drills and dental equipment seem amateurish beside the elaborately decorated, faster-than-fast trills of Mr. Glover's feet. At first you don't even realize he's dancing because it looks as if he's scarcely moving. Where, you wonder, is the noise coming from? From speakers relaying the sound of an amplified floor drummed by feet moving like hummingbirds.
This, however, is technique deranged. Mr. Glover's trademark is to display astonishingly rapid-fire meters that nonetheless lack rhythm or melody or any serious play of dynamic contrasts. Very occasionally he slows down to tap out a phrase you can identify. One of them on Monday seemed to go "Do-wah, diddy diddy dum, dum, dum," almost like the 1960s pop song by Manfred Mann. This is when a real tap musician would make the relative simplicity of the moment into something special, but Mr. Glover's inflection stayed flat: he couldn't caress the phrase into life.
Anybody see the show?