If you were alive in the late '70s or '80s, chances are excellent that you know at least one song from A Chorus Line. Sing a few bars of the vamp that opens One and anyone nearby will join in — just try to stop them.

The show opened in 1975 and closed in 1990 after 6,137 performances, setting a record (since broken) for the longest-running show on Broadway. A Chorus Line became so much a part of popular culture that when I saw it on Tuesday, in the recently opened national tour that will be at PlayhouseSquare through Oct. 26, I wondered: Is it possible to have deja vu for something you didn't experience a first time? The show didn't meet my high expectations, but one reason may be that it's so famous, it couldn't surprise me.

Michael Bennett conceived, co-choreographed and directed the original musical. It was an innovative concept: Put dancers on a bare stage at a mock audition, then listen to their stories. The concept is still appealing, and Michael Gruber (a member of the original company) was excellent as the director, Zach, who cajoles each dancer to tell the story behind the resume. A problem for the revival is that 30-plus years later, the stories (told in the book by James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante) have lost some impact. A young dancer recounting how he discovered he was gay? Ho-hum.

Baayork Lee has restaged the jazz choreography, which Bob Avian originally co-choreographed with Bennett. (This time around, Avian has directed the show.) A big mirror at the back of the empty stage, as in a dance studio, reflects the group of auditioning dancers. The lighting by Tharon Musser, adapted by Natasha Katz, picks out individuals or changes the mood for the whole group.

The musical covers some topics that are still off-limits for a family newspaper. But given the language used in popular music and plays now, the expletives used by Val in Dance: Ten; Looks: Three are less shocking than they were a generation ago. And considering how many people will say anything about their personal lives for the whole world to hear, it's almost quaint to think of anyone having a secret. Even styles in prescription drugs have changed.

That said, this good-looking, well-oiled cast lets you feel the fun of dancing the sexy, throw-yourself-into-it choreography. The finale, an old-school number with everyone outfitted in glittering suits and top hats, ramps up the excitement with lighting that glows. Especially after watching the dancers ''learn'' the parts, it's great fun to see these sleek bodies put all the moves together, with all the precision and energy you'd hope for.

I'm a sucker for the score, or to be exact, Marvin Hamlisch's score as orchestrated by Jonathan Tunick, Bill Byers and Hershy Kay. Those swaggering high trumpet lines, in particular, are all about the flash of Broadway. As conducted by John O'Neill, the traveling musicians and local orchestra made the razzle-dazzle writing pop out of the pit.

The performers at this pretend audition are more persuasive as dancers and actors than as singers. Some of the singing voices sounded thin on Tuesday, and intonation problems crept in. Cassie (played by Nikki Snelson), an auditioning dancer and a former girlfriend of the director, Zach, was surprisingly earthbound in her featured dancing, considering that she's supposed to be a former star who is above the level of the chorus line. Emily Fletcher was terrific as the beautiful, disaffected Sheila, who has a weakness for Valium and a tendency toward ennui.

The show still has plenty going for it. With the right cast — or perhaps this cast on a better night — the characters could be more likeable and their stories not so bleak. There's so much sadness behind the greasepaint, it makes you think twice about what these performers did for love.