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Solidarity

My first two shows at this year’s Dance Base as part of the Edinburgh Fringe show the consummate taste of artistic director Tony Mills. Two brilliant young companies from the Basque Country perform very different, but no less thrilling, work.

Performance

“No File Attached” by Erain / “Trembling Frequencies” by Helena Wilhelmsson

Place

DanceBase, Edinburgh, Scotland, August 7,2026

Words

Lorna Irvine

“No File Attached” by Erain. Photograph courtesy of DanceBase

“No File Attached” by Erain are a duo of Oier Zuniga and Lorea Bakero opens the show. Moving together in languid fluidity, their simple props—grey pipes on the ground—become egalitarian, as the duo, in clothing that could easily be the workwear of a steel factory or dance wear in studio alike (grey vests, cargo pants, boots) explore the quotidian nature of the factory floor, and how they fit together like a well-honed machine.

As the intensity of the soundtrack—first industrial noise, then electronic beats—intensifies, so too does the choreography, reminding me at times of the brittle bodywork of DV8 back in the post-punk, mid-eighties. Zuniga and Bakero appear as two halves of a cohesive whole, moving in unison like automatons becoming sentient. 

A “helpful” piece of advice rings out in an Orwellian sample, demanding “Make it fit!” This the pair duly do, fitting the pipes together before becoming entwined on the floor. There's a sense of the dystopian, two tender robot hearts in sync. This poses so many pertinent questions around AI, agency and the problems achieving independence in this era of late capitalism. A little sexy, a little disturbing, but always extremely compelling in concept and execution.

“Trembling Frequencies” by Helena Wilhelmsson. Photograph by Gareth Phillips

“Trembling Frequencies” by Helena Wilhelmsson. Photograph by Gareth Phillips

Sexy and disturbing are certainly two adjectives also applicable to the second half of this wonderful double bill, from Helena Wilhelmsson. Innovative and startling are two more. “Trembling Frequencies” sees Wilhelmsson slink onto the stage like some kind of incognito, reclusive rock star. As she rhythmically slaps her body, which is mic’d up, the sound distorts and bounces around the studio space. 

She sings, and her incredible voice reminds me of the incredible early work of Planningtorock, dark and unearthly. The costume is that of Cindy Sherman's Untitled Film Still #35: a bored, medicated housewife in a drab raincoat and shades. Her every laboured movement drips with ennui. It's a dance of disillusionment, and underwhelmed, stilted, desperate movements. 

She takes off said coat, face contorted in pure contempt at the audience and the air is charged with something else, something which is off, more menacing. Now she's akin to a torch singer in a David Lynch film, wriggling and flailing. 

It's at this point I spot a bucket, stage right. The singer/dancer is screaming, a feral roar into the bucket. Now we're firmly entrenched in the hinterland of live art territory fused with a dark, capricious burlesque.

Back at the mic, a gorgeous, keening folk song is sung, full of raw emotion. Wilhelmsson continues to sing, to emote, until the sound drops and all we're left with is a miming woman, giving her all, but mute. This seems to be a meditation on the silencing of women and the lazy tropes and stereotypes that reduce us to housewife/diva/harpy/madwoman. It gives me chills. What a rush, like Irish whiskey.

Lorna Irvine

Based in Glasgow, Lorna was delightfully corrupted by the work of Michael Clark in her early teens, and has never looked back. Passionate about dance, music, and theatre she writes regularly for the List, Across the Arts and Exeunt. She also wrote on dance, drama and whatever particular obsession she had that week for the Shimmy, the Skinny and TLG and has contributed to Mslexia, TYCI and the Vile Blog.

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