Since it burst on to the scene 10 years ago, Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance - its creator's name very much part of the title - has been the highest-grossing dance show in the world.

Seen in 36 countries so far, it has taken more than $400m in ticket sales, and the figure continues to rise.

As an Irish export, then, it comes close to rivalling Guinness. And, as with that celebrated stout, the contrast between dark and light is a powerful part of its appeal.

It is an appeal which had not, until this week, been exercised upon me; for though the show has become a near-annual visitor to the New Theatre, I had never seen it. I now realise what artistry and excitement I have been missing.

My reluctance to join the party arose, I suppose, from the erroneous notion that there was something very 'samey' about Celtic dance. Wasn't it just a long line of performers doing their stuff in a way absurdly reminiscent of the Tiller Girls crossed with a team of clog dancers?

How I had misjudged this centuries-old style, in which can be discerned much beauty, enormous finesse and, just as important, fierce discipline.

An instance of this comes in the rarely-relaxed rule stipulating, as with Greek dancing, that there should be no involvement of the upper body.

This requirement focuses all attention on the legs. Black stockinged, in the case of the women, these perform mini-miracles of movement, some of which have all the perfection of classical dance. There even comes a moment when the performers are all up on points.

The dozen men, meanwhile, led from the front by the brilliant David McCabe, prove themselves not just dancers but hugely skilled percussionists.

With metal tips, heel and toe, on their shoes, they beat out a rhythmic tattoo as they hurtle about the stage. In one electrifying scene - during which the plangent taped musical accompaniment is silenced - their clattering chorus is all that can be heard.

Did I say all, for could a more thrilling sound be imagined?

The show's plot, such as it is, concerts a fight between good and evil to see who will emerge as Lord of the Dance. At one point it seems 'good guy' McCabe is going to lose out to baddie Paul O'Brien.

But this is to reckon without help from the lovely Bernadette Flynn. As chief Good Girl she is more than a match for Bad Girls Lauren Stapleton and Helen Egan.

The dark/light tones of the show are reflected both in the staging and the costumes.

These range from sombre greys and blacks to a kaleidoscope of garish pink, orange and, of course, emerald green.

It runs until Sunday.