Hot Shoes...

Last week, I was privileged enough to have tickets to go and see Michael Flatley's return as Lord of the Dance. And my, was I excited. You see, I have a life-long love for Flatley and his rapid feet. At the age of five, my grandmother bought me Riverdance on video (how vintage), and even at such a young age I was fascinated with how straight their lines were, and how quick their feet were. I think it is easy to say that I was instantly hooked, like a drug addict to heroin. All I wanted to do was riverdance. My dear mother tried her best to find me a local class, but unfortunately my primitive home town didn't cater for my taste, and thus I had to settle for tap. Which I loved, and I would never criticise my dance training, as it was the very best in my area. And even though I also trained in ballet and modern dance, tap was always my firm favourite. It's what I'm best at, and more importantly, what I love. I feel at home with a pair of tap shoes on my feet, and teletone taps might as well be my best friends. And even now, having given up dancing when I started university (I miss it so much), I still get the same thrill from hearing the sound of tap shoes than if they were on my own feet.

Nothing, however, could have prepared me for how bowled over I would be from watching Lord of the Dance. My dear grandmother visited me in Newcastle and we went together; she also being a firm lover of Flatley. Our seats were amazing, especially given the fact that we booked them the day before (our free tickets unfortunately didn't happen and so a mad panic for tickets ensued). We were seated in the balcony area, and therefore had a perfect view of the stage from a head-on angle, meaning we could fully appreciate the show as it's meant to be viewed, unlike the unfortunate ones sitting in the left and right tiers. From the moment I sat in my seat and the screens showed the number of sold out shows Lord of the Dance has achieved, my excitement was greater than anything I've ever experienced. So as you can imagine, I practically had a coronary when Flatley finally came on stage...

Opening with Cry of the Celts, Hardiman's The Dawning literally gave me the chills. There's something about Irish music that has that magical sound and feel to it. Lord of the Dance, with its fiddles and its flutes, literally transported me to another world as I watched in wonder. The soft shoe dances were beautiful, and the dancers appeared to be literally floating on air with their graceful, quick movements. The tapping, however, blew me away. Every time Little Spirit played out the Lord of the Dance on the flute, I felt shivers down my spine. Nothing can prepare you for the wonders witnessed in the eye of the beholder whilst watching Flatley and his troupe in action. During the tapping, I sat there throughout with a smile on my face that would envy that of the Cheshire Cat. And sometimes I felt, dare I say it, quite emotional. I was completely bowled over, and somewhat bewildered at the magnitude of his talent. I barely blinked throughout, for fear I would miss something crucial. I mean, after all, when Flatley can tap 35 times in a mere second (which is just outrageous), had I blinked, I really would have missed so much...

His solo's were magnificent. He was magnificent.

Overall, the show was slick and sexy, and had underwent a massive overhaul since the original graced the stage in 1998. The tapping told the story of love and lust, and of good versus evil, with Flatley and lead tapper Cunningham having a furious dance off, much to the delight of the audience. Of course, Flatley triumphed.

The finale left the crowd hungry for more, and thus chanted enough to make Flatley and his troupe return to the stage for an encore. Like me, the audience just didn't want it to end.

Before writing this article, I had anticipated rambling on forever about his talent. But now it comes to writing, I somehow feel a little lost for words. Because to me, nothing can describe the way the show made me felt; nothing can describe how fabulous their performance was; nothing can describe the electric atmosphere in the audience. The audience, who throughout screamed and cheered until their voices hurt. The audience, who clapped so hard their hands turned red. The audience who, after the finale, gave Flatley & Co a standing ovation; so appreciated were they by the ever-loving fans.

I was one of those fans.

The only thing left to say is that I genuinely cannot wait for the next installment. Until then, I shall gaze lovingly at my Flatley poster that my boyfriend so loves. Personally I just think he's a little jealous...