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Tap Dogs Lyric Theatre, APA October 19 Iam an old fan of Fred myself. And of Gene. When Tap Dogs started splashing the front rows at the Lyric in their water dance, it certainly was not Singing In The Rain.

 But you cannot beat seven hunks with half their kit off doing a quick heel-toe in number nines to a pounding beat for really raising my level of interest.

 The boys from a steel town north of Sydney gave fairly simple tap dancing a rough, tough, macho image.

 Nigel Triffit's steel ramps and ladders gave the men something to dance on. Above them, up on metal scaffolding, were two musicians. The rock beat revved up the show.

 Initially it needed it - a shameful 20-minute delay to allow stragglers to wander in, followed by the dullest few minutes of sponsors' speeches had no place at this show and apparently upset the dancers.

 But there was no holding these boys back.

 They were on stage and pretending to pee within minutes, and creator and choreographer Dein Perry's show blew out the bad start with its non-stop energy, synchronised sound and invention.

 Take six sound plates and strike them with metal taps and you have got a rhythm section.

 Four men worked electric sanders, grinding metal ladders so that sparks flew on to the stage and another danced through them.

 A dancer was hoisted up on ropes to dance upside down. Scaffolding gets hoisted up then becomes a series of platforms to be danced down.

 Tap Dogs is a charming show - short at just 80 minutes, long if you have had enough after the first 20 fun-filled minutes.

 It needed fewer solos, a little syncopation, something subtle somewhere.

 But this audience would not have turned out for the traditional stuff.

 They loved the rock beat, the amplified tap, the amped metal floors.

 The show was a gimmick, an industrial set, with the workers to go with it, the sweat, relentless noise, hard work.

 The guys shoved, smoked, drank, stripped to the waist, wiped themselves down, joked.

 Their hair was tousled, their shorts torn.

 Sheldon Perry, Dein's brother, had the nimblest ankles. Tap and testosterone. Can't be beat.



Tap Dogs, Lyric Theatre, APA