Dance has a history entwined with endurance. There was the deadly dancing plague that swept Europe in the 16th century, possibly caused by poisoned rye. Then there were the American 1920s dance marathons, where contestants would dance day and night for cash prizes, sometimes for weeks at a time. More recently pieces like Andreas Constantinou’s Mass Effect or Emma Martin’s Night Dances have experimented with the idea of dance exhaustion, the latter melding shamanic spirituality with club dancing, as the dancers reach a state of euphoria even as their bodies are drained. 

Into this tradition The Butterfly Who Flew Into The Rave comes thumping. Three dancers (Oli Mathiesen, Lucy Lynch and Sharvon Mortimer) throw themselves into an hour of relentless techno drills to Suburban Knight’s Nocturbulous Behaviour album, passing through states of emotional intensity: grit, aggression, ecstasy. At times they move with the precision of the possessed, at others they come apart into states of wildness. Sometimes they all look up, raising their eyes and arms as if the bone-shaking beats of the rave are a god they must appease. As well as shamanism, the piece has echoes of Gregorian chants in its cycles of repetition. 

The audience share this intensity too; even watching it feels physically merciless. The room is sweltering, the bass makes your organs tremble, the strobes are blinding. Some people will feel transcended, others as if they are undergoing CIA-enhanced interrogation. But however your own body responds, the mental focus and stamina of the dancers is truly something to behold. 

The Butterfly Who Flew Into The Rave, Summerhall, until 25 August, 6.05pm; main picture: Jinki Cambronero.