A scene from Yang Liping’s dance "Sounds from Yunnan"

Yang Liping never ceases to amaze. It is an understatement to say she is the reigning queen of dance in China. She is the goddess of dance, a gift from God to the land of Yunnan.

What she touches turns into artistic gold. Of course, you can say she lives in a goldmine, in the first place. The rich ethnic cultures of Yunnan have spawned numerous songs and dances. But her work is unique. She is so close to her sources of inspiration and she has so wonderful a grip over her material that others pale beside her and look like pretenders. You can never watch a crummy TV variety show with ethnic singing and dancing and say bravo after you’ve seen one of Yang’s creations. She combines the soul of Martha Graham with the show of Florenz Ziegfeld.

Sounds from Yunnan is her piece de resistance, the latest instalment of her dance drama-cum-variety show trilogy. Unlike the first one, Impressions of Yunnan or the second one Riddles of Tibet, this one is not just for the eye, but also for the ear. Be prepared for the world’s most primitive percussion instruments. They include bowls, bamboos, bells and drums of all sizes. As one of the projected super-titles go, "We make sounds out of every object that can emit sound, and we make sounds out of objects that cannot emit sounds."

In the number "Sun Shower", a group of young women use round bamboo sieves to winnow grains. The sounds of a drizzle and then of a shower are produced by sifting. "Drunken Drums", the number that brings the performance to a rousing crescendo, reminds one of drunken fist, the kungfu move popularized by Jackie Chan. Yet, it is an eye-openingly innovative piece, with a great variety of rhythms and acting that borders on reliving. Dancers guzzle real wine - I’m not sure it’s liquor, but it’s real liquid - that overflows to their suntanned chests, and when they fall they don’t do it nimbly like most dancers, but like real drunkards. It is the spirit of Dionysius in its full glory.

Speaking of the dancers, unlike "professional" performers who inhabit the parts at best, these young men and women live the parts. They were plucked by Yang Liping from mountains and rice fields. When they dance, it’s not part of their job, but part of their lives. They are living out their dreams and joys and frustrations right there on the stage. The raw energy they exude is so infectious you cannot but become part of them.