“ … awesome, awesome and awesome. ”— Chicago Maroon
“ Dimond's staging explodes with energy … ”— Chicago Free Press
“ … intimate quarters … exactly right for this ecstatic spectacle … ”— Windy City Times
In the near future, America is torn into competing factions and city-states and the main attraction—the only attraction—is The Game. A global battle for status and territory played by ruthless rock-and-roll warlords, played according to rules issued by a mysterious council of Keepers, played for the excitement and entertainment of a tiny upper class, while everyone else gets trampled underneath.
Hoss has been at the top of The Game for a long time, a warrior king with nothing left to conquer, safe with his entourage behind the walls of his desert fortress. Driven half wild by his comfortable but contained existence, he can think of nothing but new kills, certain that passiveness will be his death. Then a speck out in the wasteland grows suddenly large: out of the battered masses rises a gypsy named Crow, a new breed of player only in The Game as a means to destroy it.
To take on this unknown challenger is a foolish, unnecessary risk, with little to gain and everything to lose—Hoss jumps at the chance. What follows is all-out battle in a mode that goes beyond the physical and attacks the soul. Head to head, until one’s dead.
Tooth of Crime was a jarring, hypnotizing experience when it was first performed in the early 1970's. Sam Shepard has since revised it into the leaner and meaner "second dance" and Strawdog presents it in its full, visceral glory, in its Midwest premier, complete with live rock-and-roll accompaniment.