A spicy Eastern blend

In all her dances, Haddad relied on the bedrock authority of seven men billed as the Gypsy Musicians of Upper Egypt, masters of such arcane instruments as the two-string spike fiddle, the drone double clarinet, the open-ended reed flute and drums of all sizes. And her dancing proved most exciting when specifically reflecting the pulse of their accompaniment, whether in rippling arm movements or sharp hip swings.

At one point in her dance with a silver cane -- the most familiar Egyptian folkloric piece on the program -- she briefly draped herself along the large circular drum held by El Kinawy.

At other times, she interacted at length with singer-drummer El Hamy Mohamed and later with singer Youssef Moubarak, who moved behind her and reached forward to bow his fiddle across her chest.

The easy camaraderie and charm of these passages eclipsed Haddad's more insular solos, in which she unfortunately adopted a forced smile that undercut the spontaneity of her performance -- even the complex but free-spirited muscular isolations that linked the skills of the Ghawazee (Gypsy entertainers) with modern dance technique.

Many of the pieces began with slow, atmospheric musicianship (a hoarse flute, for instance, or those insistent fiddles) that soon accelerated and became structured with the addition of rhythmic drumming and perhaps vocals. Haddad's contribution reflected the beat through light, quick footwork and torso accents that ranged from generalized shimmers to convulsive pelvic undulations.

Her technical arsenal also included sensuous lateral swaying, smooth spinning that might end in a spiral down to the floor and weightless glides across the stage. And sometimes she'd shatter the sense of flow that she'd worked so hard to sustain with an outburst of shoulder shakes, frantic lashings of her long dreads or a single gesture that served as a kind of exclamation point.