Over at the Barbican Centre’s Pit Theatre is “Change Tempo,” presented by the international festival Dance Umbrella—perhaps the ‘world city’ title is deserved. The double bill opens with the Australian Lilian Steiner’s “Siren Dance,” a moody musing on desire. Steiner, dressed in a frilly tulle and lace number, glides over every inch of the floor en pointe, marking her territory with each step. Fluttering in a bourrée, she throws out anguished gestures with increasing frustration: cracking whips, blowing kisses, and pulling ropes. When it all bubbles over an amplified shriek reverberates through the space like a sonic boom. She sheds her dainty costume for something which looks a bit like sea slug drag, with some clumps of shower drain hair thrown in for extra measure. She shudders her slimy body around the floor, dragging a fishing net cloak and luring us with the jewels she’s plundered. 

The solo’s allusions to seduction and downfall are compelling, if a little sparse. That is before a projected text more plainly spells out what this “Siren Dance” investigates. What draws us in is Steiner’s stage presence, with a stare that pierces right through you and spooky, uncanny movements that delightfully subvert the classical. Classical forms are played with further in the following piece “Random Taranto” by the Spaniard María del Mar Suárez. La Chachi, as she is known, has a blended background of flamenco and contemporary dance. 

This two-hander begins like an Iberian “Waiting for Godot,” two friends sat on park chairs chewing on sunflower seeds and rolling cigarettes. They hum a tune together, remembering the lyrics bit by bit. Before we know it, singer Lola Dolores wails out lilting Andalusian melodies from deep within. The duo rise and begin to play a percussive game of cat and mouse with the Taranto form, posing each other new ways of messing with its strict 2/4 meter. It’s hilarious, silly stuff. La Chachi is especially funny when she fails to contain her excitement at their new innovations. She has a clownish physicality, she lets out little yelps and squeaks, she jerks around awkwardly between her virtuosic stamping. Dolores too finds absurdity in the passion, sustaining notes until they curdle into a creaky, groaning whimper. It’s an unashamedly feel-good piece that has you wishing to see it all over again.