Dance Review: Black Grace, Musgrove Studio

Neil Ieremia explains in a chat near the start what inspired the pieces. Photo / Supplied

There are nine Verses in Black Grace's new one-hour programme, performed by six extraordinary dancers - four strapping gods and two nuggety, svelte goddesses.

The Verses were inspired, artistic director Neil Ieremia takes time to explain in a chat over the footlights near the beginning, by snatches of poetry previously written, pieces of his favourite music, reflections lifted from his journals of yesteryear.

The end result is no dreamy reflection but a polished, pungent, bone-crunchingly physical and perfectly executed alchemy of music, muscle and motion.

It begins with Totem, with five of the dancers stacked and sculpted in a vertical plane, to emerge from the semi-darkness in an explosion of ferocious kicks, leaps and almost frightening extensions, punctuated with subtle off-beats and unexpected containments, little contrapuntal skips and hoppings, dramatic drops to the floor, sinuous lifts and wrappings, all spiced with both balletic precision and street cool.

The energy remains sky-high but the mood swings from Verse to Verse.

While Verse 2, subtitled Made Off, deals with grand fraud with the four male dancers (beautiful Sean MacDonald, pocket rocket Tupua Tigafua, staunch Thomas Fonua and chunky Jared Hemopo) escaping in wide boy style - look out for the wheels - Verse 3 introduces Abby Crowther and Zoe Watkins in Consolation for Unpopularity to Hurt by Johnny Cash, an exposition of visceral pain.

In Verse 4 Tupua and Thomas play-fight to Elvis Presley's Guitar Man, an excerpt from Ieremia's Gathering Clouds, and the only piece in the programme not newly crafted but a well-deserved replay of Bro-ness and humour.

Estelle Macdonald's costumes for Sean, Abby and Zoe in Verse 5 are a gorgeous ode to denim, from the frilled bloomers to a big jumpsuit and highlight the perfect dressing of this most perfect night of dance. Verse 6 sees Tupua and Thomas in heart-wrenching tribute to the victims of Samoa's 2009 tsunami.

There is a passionate solo for the lyrically limbed Macdonald, a Love Poem for the girls, then a crashing crescendo for the full company in Verse 9, to Voodoo Child by Ray Vaughan with lyrics from Jimi Hendrix's Voodoo Chile.

Nine Verses are almost too much to take in one sitting. This new embodiment of Black Grace, its very best, deserves not just one viewing - but two, three or more!