Archive for Cabaret

Dusty Limits Leads a Wild, Joyous Burlesque Night at the Liquid Rooms

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★★★★★ Burlesque nights at the Fringe can be hit‑and‑miss, but the Liquid Rooms delivered one of those gloriously chaotic evenings that reminds you why cabaret survives every cultural cycle. Hosted by Fringe stalwart Dusty Limits, whose sly crowd work and razor‑edged asides are well‑documented in his cabaret appearances at The Voodoo Rooms , the night had that unmistakable mix of glamour, grit and mischief that marks out proper burlesque from the pretenders.

Limits is a natural ringmaster — sardonic, warm, and just dangerous enough to keep the room alert. His genuine love of performance, noted in reviews of his Bowie‑themed cabaret work , carries over effortlessly here. He knows how to hold a crowd, tease it, and then hand it over to the performers at exactly the right moment.

The acts themselves were a lively blend of classic strip‑tease, comic burlesque, and magic. The Liquid Rooms — usually a nightclub and live‑music venue  — proved surprisingly intimate for burlesque, helped by tight lighting and a crowd that arrived ready to play along.

What made the night work wasn’t polish but personality. The performers were bold, funny, and gloriously unafraid of leaning into the absurd. One moment you’re watching a sultry slow‑burn strip, the next you’re hit with a comic number that breaks the room open. It’s the kind of cabaret chaos that feels alive — messy in the right ways, sharp in the right moments, and carried by performers who know exactly what they’re doing.

If you wandered in expecting a tidy, packaged Fringe show, you’d be in the wrong place. But if you wanted a late‑night hit of queer joy, camp theatricality, great dance performances and a host who knows how to work a room, this burlesque night more than earned its applause.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

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Stevie Nicks — The Gypsy That I Was: An Intimate Interpretation at Fringe 2026

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★★★★★ There’s a particular hush that falls over a room when someone steps into a role and refuses to let it be a costume. Stevie Nicks – The Gypsy That I Was does that. Maddi Fraser — the solo performer who carries the hour — doesn’t mimic Stevie Nicks so much as she invites Stevie’s spirit to sit beside her It’s intimate, it’s affectionate, and it’s quietly theatrical.

Maddi performs in role for the whole show. No band to hide behind, no chorus to share the road. Just voice, presence, and a handful of well‑chosen songs that trace the arc of a life lived on stages and in the press. That decision gives the evening a stripped‑back honesty. When she sings, you’re listening to someone who has chosen to live inside a character rather than impersonate a star.

The humour was a highlight. Jokes about exes land with a knowing smile — not vicious, not salacious, just human. They break the glamour in the best way, remind you that the woman behind the myth had messy, funny, ordinary moments. Maddi plays those lines like a friend telling you a story over wine; the audience laughs, relaxes, and leans in.

Vocally, she finds the right balance. There are smoky, breathy moments that nod to Stevie’s trademark tone, and brighter, clearer phrases that let the songs breathe. It’s not a note‑for‑note recreation, and that’s a strength. The performance honours the songs without turning them into museum pieces. They live again, in a smaller room, with a different kind of urgency.

The show’s pacing is gentle. It’s not a greatest‑hits sprint; it’s a series of vignettes stitched together with anecdotes and mood. That suits the material. Stevie’s catalogue is as much about atmosphere as it is about melody, and Maddi leans into that. The result is a relaxed, late‑night vibe — the sort of set you’d hear in a tucked‑away club rather than an arena.

There are moments of real tenderness. When the storytelling softens and the voice follows, you feel the weight of the life being sung about — the loves, the losses, the small triumphs. Those are the parts that linger. They’re the reason tribute shows matter when they’re done well: they remind you why the songs mattered in the first place.

The vibe in the room is the show’s secret weapon. People came in ready to be entertained and left feeling they’d been confided in. That’s rarer than you’d think at the Fringe, where spectacle often drowns intimacy. Here, intimacy wins.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

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Love’s Concordia Bar at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2024: A Review

★ ★ ★ ★

418 words, 2 minutes read time.

Love’s Concordia Bar was a whirlwind of emotion. It was expressed not only through its compelling script but also through the dynamic dancing. The original songs left the audience captivated.

The performers were nothing short of mesmerizing, embodying their roles with a passion that resonated throughout the venue. Their acting prowess was matched by their physicality. They performed dance routines that were both intricate and expressive. These routines told stories within the story. The original songs were a breath of fresh air, weaving melodies and lyrics that perfectly complemented the narrative.

It’s worth noting that the cast was attractive, adding a layer of allure to the already steamy performance. The show was undeniably sexy, with a palpable chemistry between the actors that was impossible to ignore.

However, no show is without room for improvement. In my view, the script, while engaging, could benefit from being more concise. They should aim for a runtime of 50 minutes to an hour. It would tighten the narrative and keep the audience on the edge of their seats. The excitement will last from start to finish.

The venue, while intimate and fitting for the performance, could do with better ventilation. Comfort is key in keeping the audience focused on the performance, and this small change could make a significant difference.

The theme of the show delved into the darker aspects of love. It explored how love can sometimes feel like a trap. While thought-provoking, a character who embodies hope could offer a more balanced perspective. This character could also show the possibility of love’s liberation.

The narrator was a standout element of the show. They guided the audience through the narrative with a presence that was commanding. Developing this role further could enhance the connection between the performer and the audience. Perhaps more direct speech to the audience could make the experience even more immersive.

In general, increasing audience interaction could be a valuable addition to the show. Engaging with the audience can break the fourth wall. It can bring a unique energy to the performance. This creates moments that are both memorable and personal.

Love’s Concordia Bar is a bold and evocative production. It captures the complexities of love with grace and intensity. With a few tweaks, it has the potential to be not just a good show, but a great one. It’s a must-see for those who appreciate the art of theatre and the power of a well-told love story.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

Till August 25th 21.20. Tickets here

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