Global Rhythms
By Sid Smith
 
This weekend's "Global Rhythms" installment, the seventh from the Chicago Human Rhythm Project, marries two seemingly disparate dance worlds.

Spanish dance, both flamenco and folk, is a centuries-old standard bearer of the art--for much of the 20th Century and, for all I know, still today, you didn't vacation in Madrid without plentiful guidebook suggestions that you sample it--as culturally emblematic as (and much more wholesome than) a bullfight. But Chicagoans no longer need to go anywhere: Ensemble Espagnol Spanish Dance Theater is second to none worldwide.

The amazing foot-stompers of Step Afrika, meanwhile, practice an art dating from a shorter time period and a subset of U.S. culture--the fraternity and sorority art developed by African-American college kids mid-century. Eons of Spanish history radiate from its folk dance. Stepping is a singular, particular, highly distinct tile in the vast mosaic of African-American contributions to U.S. arts.

Yet, there they were together Saturday at the Harris Theater, and, of course, it's the similarities, the harmonies in aesthetics and passion, that strike you more than the differences. Tap is bread and butter to the Rhythm Project, at least theoretically--founder and guru Lane Alexander is himself a tap dancer.

But one of the things that makes the Rhythm Project so valuable is its inclusive pursuit of the art of stepping and percussive footwork globally and throughout the centuries. These various versions all carry unmistakable stamps of their time and place--Irish steppers with their rigidly placed arms and Gaelic air, for instance. But the instinct to move your feet, clap your hands and make noise that's not just rhythmic but seductive is amazingly universal and still somewhat underappreciated. It's no shock that Step Afrika, along with its sleek and efficient dances, takes the time to invite the audience into its rhythmic world. We're dying throughout to join them.

The Step Afrika visit this time, the Washington, D.C.-based group's third to Chicago, includes works by a variety of choreographers. Jason Nious' "Ke Nako" is a short, shadowy lit series of introductory show-pieces, the dancers almost in disguise as they romp in an assortment of boxes formed by light. "My Man Is Gone Now"--with five choreographers in its credits--is a bluesy, often classically tinged trio for the women, one of them barefoot, with swift pirouettes joining more sultry undulations and dramatic falls to the floor, set to the Nina Simone song. The men take over in "Off the Train," the footwork here deliberately mimicking the patter of a locomotive, the costumes including smart hats and suitcases that end up platforms for some of the dancing.

It's all enjoyable, and fairly diversified, avoiding the each-work-looks-alike syndrome that can plague some step artistry. But none of it prepares you for the festive celebration of "Nxt/Stp," by Jakari Sherman, the troupe's cavalcade of stepping, tapping, hand-clapping and show-stopping percussive fireworks. Accompanied at times by an onstage sax player, "Nxt/Stp" is one-act-play-like in its sweep and punch.

Ensemble Espagnol won't dance at the Harris on Sunday, part of the idea here being to present a two-pronged program--Sunday's line-up pairs Step Afrika with the Mexican Folkloric Dance Company of Chicago instead.

But Saturday, dame Libby Komaiko and troupe demonstrated how they've evolved into one of the most impressive arts organizations here or anywhere else. There was the stark, dignified, largely-danced-in-place opening, "Zapateado," followed by an absolutely electrifying duet from Claudia Pizarro and Jose Torres, embodying the duo archetype of the dance and managing to include flirtation, seduction, feverish footwork and an evolution so coy you hardly noticed you were being swept away.

Few dances, meanwhile, rival Komaiko's "Bolero" for spectacle, drama and romance. Slides project Picasso, but my favorite moments are when the dancers are on a bare stage, inflamed by the lighting effects and their own impassioned feet.