You could no more dislike this deft show, which packages the vogue for poetry jams into a neat little Broadway spectacle, than you could dislike an eager-to-please puppy. It is inherently lovable, peddling its own brand of radical chicand American charm. These are the voices from the street, wrapped in big Broadway smiles. You get the impression that the performers have been chosen more for their stunning looks and multi-ethnicity than their poetry.
They are, however, very engaging, with their rhythmic reflections on life, love and, occasionally, the exploitation of developing countries. But the personal not the political is on show here: it is fat and body fascism that get these poets worked up. And society. "I write America," claim the voices, but it is a pretty selective view of America.
Still, this very obviously aims to offer entertainment rather than analysis, and it does that pretty well, harnessing the energy of the spoken word into an experience that has something in common with a rock concert.
· Until August 25. Box office: 0131-226 2428.
