An Evening Without Kate Bush is a surreal, hilarious, and unexpectedly moving tribute that captures the astonishing spirit of the one and only Kate Bush
Co-written by the multifaceted and incredibly talented Sarah-Louise Young and Russell Lucas, this one-woman show is performed with remarkable charm, wit, and energy by Sarah-Louise herself. Without giving too much away, the production skilfully blends comedy, mime, dance, and live singing into a kaleidoscopic celebration of Bush’s legacy.
From the dreamlike uniqueness of one of my personal favourites, Army Dreamers (complete with some hauntingly anime-vibe eyeball moments), to the communal joy of the ever so crowd-pleasing Running Up That Hill, the show delivers a fantastic range of Kate Bush classics. It moves seamlessly between laugh-out-loud absurdity and genuine tenderness. One particularly enjoyable feature is the imaginative use of props and costumes, each cleverly calling upon a different era of Kate’s ever-evolving artistry. Yet nothing ever feels like imitation, but more a loving homage filtered through originality and theatrical flair.
Going in, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but I genuinely loved every moment. At times, it felt like being on the most joyous acid trip, all sound-tracked by Bush’s iconic catalogue. The show also delivers fascinating Kate Bush trivia and gently encourages the audience to embrace and embody their own inner “Bush“, making for an experience that is as participatory as it is performative. There are moments of true connection, with audience interaction and shared celebration offering space for fellow Fish People to unite in communal joy.
Whether you’re a lifelong devotee of her work or someone with only a passing familiarity, the creativity, intelligence, and sheer talent poured into this production is undeniable. An Evening Without Kate Bush is a rare and magical experience, and I would wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who appreciates theatre, music, or the strange and beautiful corners of pop culture.
Photo Credit: Steve Ullathorne