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A show to bang on about
Stomp
Birmingham Hippodrome ***** THERE is something primitive about rhythm, a life source from the dawn of time, something hard wired in our psyche when we emerged from the primeval swamp. You can imagine Mr
Nean der Thal sitting in the corner tapping his elk skull with a couple
of antelope thighbones in a lively rhythm to entertain Mrs Der Thal and
all the little Thals in the cave on a cold ice age night – and we worry
about global warming! It is a part of every culture from native
Americans to African tribes to Aborigines with the Scouts and Boys'
Brigade, drumming in along the way. We have overlaid music on our rhythm but it is
still there, it is rhythm that gives us rock and roll, jazz, blues,
techno, disco, symphony or plain old smooch – the notes are the same
only the rhythm is different. Which is perhaps why something so daft as eight
people banging dustbins or tapping brooms on the floor by-passes normal
thought and awakens something way back and deep down in our evolution. From the opening of the stage being swept by a
rhythmic broom held by the excellent Cameron Newlin to the same broom
and same performer at the end, the audience are carried along in a whirl
of pots and pans, bangs and taps, claps and clicks.
Stomp was the creation of Luke Cresswell and
Steve McNicholas and started as humble street theatre in Brighton in
1991 and in 21 years has growing into a worldwide phenomenon. The format
is simple. Eight youngsters in street clothes create pulsating rhythms
out of everyday object s starting with brooms and ending with their
trademark dustbins. There is no dialogue, no story, no scenes . . .
nothing but a persistent beat using everything from plastic pipes to
plastic barrels, paint cans, cups, plastic bags, matchboxes, newspapers,
paper bags and very noisy folding plastic chairs. There is even a kitchen sink drama, well kitchen
sinks at any rate, complete with water and slung around necks and played
like drums. The range of sound is impressive from deep, deep
booming base that hits your chest like a hammer to the tinkle of metal
on the huge scaffold backdrop which provides a couple of big numbers. Some are just clapping and slapping interludes –
with audience participation – others booming ensemble numbers with
impressive decibels. The rhythms vary from relatively simple to
remarkably complex yet one of the most impressive was one of the
simplest, simple being a relative term. This was a sort of Zippo
concerto. All eight performers in the dark with cigarette
lighters which clicked as they lit and snapped as they closed. Not a lot
to play with but the talented cast created not only a fascinating rhythm
but added chasing lights and complex light patterns that would
have given any Christmas Tree lights a run for their money. Not a bad
advertisement for Zippo lighters either with virtually every click
producing a light. There are some great pieces of both individual
and group skill and no small amount of humour which, in a show without
words, has to rely on looks and gestures. The show lasts a long time with no words or
music, or break, an hour and 45 minutes. But you would never know it.
From the opening swish of a broom to the standing ovation at the end
seemed to be over before you could . . . well . . . clap Jack Robinson.
As Stomp say on their website the show is a vision of rhythm and it
would be hard to disagree. To 18-02-12 Roger Clarke And banging away at the back . . . *** SUPPOSE someone bought you a ticket for
this show and said the cast would, at some stage, perform on metal
dustbins and dustbin lids. You would probably reply “Rubbish”. But they do, and the six guys and two girls
produce an amazing act that had a large section of the first night
audience screaming for more. Dustbins, however, are only part of the
‘orchestra' as Stomp open up with brooms rat-tat-tatting on the floor,
hands clapping, fingers snapping and even shovels, tin cans and chairs
become instruments for the jungle-like throb. And that's not all. Rubber pipes, footballs,
giant tractor inner tubes and matchboxes turn up to help deliver an
intoxicating sound before three members of the cast empty a rubbish bag
and choreograph the contents! Everything that can be used to make a
noise . . . and yes, the kitchen sink was there, too. For me, though, the best scene was done in the
dark, with the awesome eight clicking cigarette lighters on an off in
different patterns. The set, consisting a range of oil drums, kitchen
utensils, pipes, bottles, saucepans and other junk is a scrap
collector's dream. Strangely the cast – wearing charity bag-style
clothes – continue non-stop for 105 minutes. No interval. I would have enjoyed a slice of this amongst
other acts on Sunday Night at the London Palladium (remember that), but
I felt a headache coming one well before end. Stomp – the dictionary says it means tread
heavily – clatters on to 18.02.12 Paul Marston
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Star of the laughs was Paul Bend from Nottinghamshire who has the
makings of a fine clown, with his Buster Keaton deadpan face and
exquisite timing as he gives us the little man against the world.