True phenomenon of 1978 was/were Kate Bush’s weird and wonderful Wuthering Heights. This startling chart-topper, full of quirky theatricality, was the first colossal, number-one hit to be self-penned by a female singer, and it hailed the career of a woman who had trail-blazing impact and influence on the entire world of music. All things weird and wonderful just kept on coming in wide-ranging abundance as cult followings of shimmering “Fish People” (named after Bush’s own record label) grew, more fans being reeled in when her Running Up That Hill (of 1985) was used for Stranger Things on Netflix in 2022.
Unrivalled in mesmerising spectacle and inventive stagecraft, divinely executed, Bush creates outstanding flows of artistry, enacting unique dramas and melodramas through her inimitable, combined talents as superb dancer, mime artist, singer, producer, story-teller and mighty dresser-upper, while she uses the striking range and timbre of her singing to evoke spellbinding atmosphere and emotion as much as to create pleasing musicality. Surreal, eccentric beauty features high throughout her eclectic repertoire and meaningful mystery and intrigue ride high. Her inventive artistry on unconventional themes – historic, literary, social, sexual, psychological, metaphysical, mythological and poetically metaphorical – oft earns her the epithet of genius.
In a show that started in 2019 and has toured internationally since, earning awards and accolades galore, An Evening Without Kate Bush is very much an evening with the vibrant Sarah-Louise Young, actor, writer, director, internationally renowned cabaret performer and lifelong fan and admirer of Bush. A commanding, amiable presence, fueled by high-energy enthusiasm, Young ensures a good time is had by all as she rallies fans, super-fans and anyone dragged in by them to celebrate the revered lady and her work good and proper in a rousing, romping, playful, cabaret-style entertainment that’s totally without Kate Bush yet choc-a-bloc with Kate Bush.
Full of bounce, she interacts with the audience, establishing strong, intimate rapport right from the start as she gets to know their makeup and decide who she might later invite onstage to join her. Her ongoing jokes, anecdotes, factual snippets, ad libs and patter demonstrate masterly comic timing and natural, quick thinking, spontaneous snooker-cued laughs being thrown in for the Crucible crowd (seated in one of the top venues anywhere, she reckons). To wow fans with extra moments of pleasure she seamlessly incorporates words and phrases from Kate Bush songs into her rapid wordplay platter in a show that’s full of heart-felt love and laughter – and a goodly amount of howling.
With Bush’s style ideal for parody and mimicry, Young earns laughs demonstrating the five main dance moves that are so widely spoofed, her physical comedy as ongoing funny as her verbal humour. The parody in her own performance is lovingly done and engenders more warm laughter. It’s nigh on impossible for even massive experts in mime and dance to totally replicate the, literally, inimitable talent package that is Kate Bush, but she’s nicely evoked all the same, and songs soar to similar heights at times, as in the delicate, waltzing, tuneful Army Dreamers, in which that characteristic, light soprano flows and floats so magically on the air. Meanwhile, as it flows and floats, a huge, spooky pair of surreal, portable eyeballs click-blink their way through the auditorium…!
Thoroughly engaging and self-assured, Young interrupts many of her song renditions with comedy, but when it comes to stagecraft there’s absolutely no beating about the Bush: she keeps it simple – no video footage, no backdrops; on the expanse of blue carpet sit just two large speakers, their invisible instrumental and vocal backings reverberating far and wide, plus a little-used microphone on a stand and a small dressing-up box. Dressing up largely involves cavorting, with dark-rimmed eyes, in voluminous, sweeping expanses of black net or black, swirling capes and Bushy wigs (or pink Vileda mop-head), in a white sheet for the King of the Mountain, in a mac and red hat for The Man With the Child in His Eyes, in a tabard, turban and rubber gloves for woman’s work and/or in a leotard of black or one of “alarming”, devilish red, which Young pulls about in a manner reminiscent of the leotard capers of the late Victoria Wood. Darkness, torchlight, spotlights, shadow (with a bit of shadow-puppet silliness) are used to manipulate mood as we travel from The Dream of Sheep and the bareness of Bexleyheath to the wilds of Wuthering Heights (DIY audience version), encountering Hammer Horror along the way and a Babooshka sung as a real Russian granny might (or might not) prefer.
Full of quirky excellence, Young’s powerful show is decidedly moorish for all those fervent fish fans, out in full force to get fully frantic with delight, but it’s fun, too, for all those who have been hooked and hauled in with them as by-catch. Well, wow.
Eileen Caiger Gray.
