Rough and strutting, the male sex is showing its stuff. The pianist is hitting the piano strings with a sledge hammer. The two musicians are clever, so clever the dancers who performed the usual windmill arm flaying knock around seems superfluous. Music full of invention, none in the choreography. A woman in gold comes on holding a bundle of folded face cloths like an Air Japan hostess.
Dancers wipe their sweaty faces.
The man at the piano tunes it and hosts it and does finger glissandi like a harp. Noise fanciful like Ligeti. This makes the woman in gold furious. The saxophone starts blowing sad, lonely tunes. Sleepy, drowsy, but angry.