Clearly, of all manner of theatre, dance and spectacle seen in this year alone, De Quincey: Nerve 9 excels in reforming the notion of understanding and appreciation.
Simple reflection lies the performance itself as a set of convulsive fits set to an unnerving soundtrack of poetry. Lyrics holding too far a distance from the beat and rhythm, style moving in a jerky fashion. Paranoia and the representation of loss quite possibly there in the lining.
Clear interpretation not forthcoming, the delivery is as mysterious as the brunette in fine brown stockings rolling a smoke and laughing all the while.
Soon Van - Friday, October 21, 2005 - 16:09
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