Posts Tagged Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2025

Fringe Review: The Story of Sting and The Police

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Angus Munro doesn’t impersonate Sting—he honours him. In The Story of Sting and The Police, Munro and his outstanding band deliver a heartfelt, high-energy tribute that charts the evolution of one of rock’s most genre-defying acts. From the raw pulse of The Police’s early days to Sting’s solo sophistication, this show is a love letter to musical innovation and emotional storytelling.

Promotional poster for 'The Story of Sting and The Police', featuring a colorful background and images of performers representing the tribute band.

The Police, formed in 1977 by Andy Summers, Stewart Copeland, and Gordon “Sting” Sumner, fused jazz, reggae, punk, and new wave into a sound that defined a generation. Munro captures that spirit without mimicry, bringing his own charisma and a four-octave range to classics like “Roxanne,” “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da,” and “Message in a Bottle.” The audience response is electric—singing, clapping, and one ecstatic fan leaping to her feet, arms raised in joy.

The show’s emotional arc deepens with a 12-minute mega mix of Sting’s solo hits, including “Fields of Gold” and “Every Breath You Take,” showcasing Munro’s vocal agility and reverence for the material2. A slide projector adds visual texture, tracing Sting’s journey from band frontman to global icon, and anchoring the music in lived experience.

Presented by Night Owl Shows, this production is more than nostalgia—it’s a dynamic retelling of a musical legacy. Munro’s performance has earned accolades at both the Adelaide and Edinburgh Fringes, and the show continues its tour with a date at Hever Festival Theatre on 28 September 2025.

For fans of Sting, The Police, or simply great live music, this is an unmissable celebration.

Check Night Owl Shows’ tour dates for upcoming performances.

Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp

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Carole King and James Taylor: A Musical Friendship Unveiled

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The Carole King and James Taylor Story is a joyous ride through music and friendship.

Promotional image for 'The Carole King and James Taylor Story', featuring the title prominently with images of performers in a concert setting.

Hannah Richards sings Carole King with warmth and clarity. Will Sharp brings calm, soulful energy as James Taylor. Their voices blend but stay true to their characters. The song choices are inspired. King’s “I Feel the Earth Move,” “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” and “You’ve Got a Friend” sit perfectly alongside Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” and “Sweet Baby James.” Each one is introduced with a story or an image, so you feel the life behind the lyric. The slide projector adds to this, showing moments from their journeys that make the songs hit even harder.

The audience can’t help but join in. There’s clapping, humming, singing. The atmosphere is easy and warm, more like a gathering than a concert. It isn’t just a set list—it’s a journey through memory and melody. You leave with a smile, a heart full of joy, and one of those timeless songs echoing in your head. This is a must-see at the Fringe.

Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp

More information and tickets here

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Energetic A Cappella Performance at Surgeons’ Hall

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RadioOctave’s A Cappella: Around the World at theSpace @ Surgeons’ Hall is a high-flying treat. A large group of young singers burst into song with energy you can’t ignore. Their smiles are wide, their harmony tight, and the stage feels electric. They move, they sway, they act—it’s more than a singing show, it’s a journey.

A group of young singers performing on stage for 'A Cappella: Around the World' with a world map graphic in the background.

The songs span the globe. You land gently in touching ballads, then jet off into bold, modern anthems. The mix stretches across ages and styles. There’s something for everyone. And the choreography? It’s not flashy, but it keeps your eyes busy and your heart happy.

Fifty-five minutes slip by too fast. If you’ve got the time, this is the show that makes you feel lighter. You walk out humming and grinning.

Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp

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Immerse Yourself in Caledonia’s Vibrant Folk Tradition

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Artwork featuring the title 'Caledonia' with various musical instruments including a violin, pipes, guitar, and accordion, representing Scottish folk and traditional music.

Caledonia is a warm rush of Scottish air. theSpace @ Surgeons’ Hall suits it. The room feels close. The music fills it. Elsa Jean McTaggart is mesmerising. She sings with poise. She moves between violin and pipes with ease. It’s beautiful to hear and to watch. Gary Lister’s vocals blend well. His playing gives the songs weight and swing. You feel the ceilidh spirit in the room. Old tunes meet fresh arrangements. Stories stitch it all together. Footage of the islands deepens the mood. You can almost smell the peat smoke.

This is folk as living culture, not museum piece. The set is tight. The pace is kind. You leave lighter, and a little prouder of Scotland’s songbook. Forty-five minutes pass in a blink.

Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp

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Fringe review: The Rise Of The Eagles

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The Rise of the Eagles is one of those shows that sneaks up on you and leaves you richer for the experience. I went in knowing the music, of course, and the band’s reputation for partying hard, but not much more than that. At the end, I felt I had travelled with them, understood a little of their story, and seen why they remain such an enduring presence in rock.

A live performance of 'The Rise of the Eagles' featuring musicians on stage, including a lead guitarist, keyboardist, drummer, and vocalist, with a banner displaying the show's name in the background.
Alex Beharrell and the Night Owl Band

The Night Owl Band bring enormous respect to the material. Their playing is tight, their harmonies strong, and there’s a real work ethic behind what they do. Nothing is casual here, and that professionalism shines through every note. They balance storytelling with performance so that the songs are not just strung together but woven into the arc of The Eagles’ rise.

Alex Beharrell takes on the central male vocals with confidence and range. His voice has that slightly raw edge which suits the material perfectly, but he can also find the softer notes when the song calls for it. He doesn’t try to copy Don Henley or Glenn Frey. Instead, he makes the songs his own, while still keeping them recognisable. He also proves himself an excellent guitarist, handling the intricate leads and rhythm parts with ease. His playing drives the songs forward, sometimes soaring, sometimes understated, but always spot on. At one point I leaned over to a friend and whispered, “that white guy can play guitar,” and I meant it.

A highlight for me was Sara Leane’s performance of Desperado. It was delivered with a clarity and emotional weight that gave the song fresh life. Her voice carried the sadness and yearning at the heart of it, and it was one of those moments where the whole audience seemed to pause and lean in. The band supported her beautifully, letting the song breathe.

A female singer performing on stage with a microphone, accompanied by a male drummer and a guitar resting on the floor.
Sara Leane sings Desperado

Another standout was the harmony performance Seven Bridges Road, with its Southern mysticism. It caught the room in a moment of stillness. The blend of voices was tight and resonant, and the emotional pull of the song came through clearly. It was one of those rare moments where the audience seemed to hold its breath.

The song itself has a history worth knowing. It was written by Steve Young in 1969, inspired by a real road in Montgomery, Alabama — a winding stretch with seven bridges and moss-draped trees that felt almost otherworldly. The Eagles recorded their version in 1980 for their Eagles Live album, turning it into a showcase for their signature five-part harmonies. They often used it to open their concerts, and you can see why. The lyrics — “There are stars in the southern sky / Southward as you go / There is moonlight and moss in the trees / Down the Seven Bridges Road” — evoke a kind of longing that’s hard to shake.

What struck me most was how much more I came to appreciate the craft and complexity behind The Eagles’ music. The arrangements, the interplay of voices and instruments, and the sense of striving for something beyond the ordinary. I also began to realise just how many different styles and genres The Eagles could master — from country rock and folk ballads to full-throttle guitar-driven anthems. They didn’t just dabble; they owned each sound with conviction.

This wasn’t just a trip down memory lane. It was an education in what made the band great and a reminder of why the music endures. The show has the polish of a tribute but the spirit of something deeper. It leaves you with a renewed respect for the songs, for the musicianship of those performing them, and for the legacy of The Eagles themselves. It’s a fine piece of work, and The Night Owl team deserve all the credit for making it feel both fresh and true.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

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Achilles, Death of the Gods – Edinburgh Fringe 2025

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Jo Kelen’s Achilles, Death of the Gods is a work of stripped-back theatre that puts one performer centre stage and demands our full attention. She commands it from the first moment. Through voice and gesture alone she conjures a whole world of war, love and grief. It is difficult to take your eyes off her. Each shift in tone or movement brings a new character into the space, whether Achilles raging in battle, Patroclus offering tenderness, or Briseis speaking of the horrors endured by women in war. Without props or spectacle, Kelen holds the audience in the palm of her hand.

The story is well known, but here it becomes something more than myth. At its heart lies the question of choice. Achilles chooses to seek vengeance and it leads to desecration and destruction. Later he chooses to relent, and that moment too has consequences. Every action reverberates, reshaping lives and altering destinies. Kelen makes this theme clear without ever lecturing us. Instead, it emerges naturally in the flow of storytelling, as we watch each decision tighten the knot of tragedy.

This is not an easy piece, nor is it meant to be. The language is lyrical and often brutal, with images of violence and violation that are hard to hear. Yet within this darkness lies a kind of honesty, a reminder that actions carry weight and that power unchecked corrodes the soul. By the end, we are left with more than a retelling of Homer. We are left reflecting on our own lives, our own choices, and the shadows they cast. It is powerful spoken-word theatre, delivered with an intensity that lingers long after you leave the snug confines of Paradise in Augustines.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

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Exploring Life’s Absurdities with Joanna Weinberg

Brief Tales at the Edinburgh Fringe 2025

One moment Joanna Weinberg could be self-mocking, and the next she could deliver a line that stopped the laughter and made you think about the cost of choices, the scars left by experience, and the compromises that shape a life. That balance between lightness and depth gave the performance its emotional weight. It was not simply entertainment but a sharing of hard-won wisdom dressed in humour and music.

A woman with a headband and bow smiling, gesturing with her hands.
Joanna Weinberg

The underwear metaphor, which I didn’t fully grasp at first, grew on me as the evening went on. At first glance it seemed a quirky frame, but it gradually revealed itself as a clever device. The underwear drawer is where we keep the most personal and often least glamorous aspects of ourselves, tucked away and rarely shown. By taking us through her drawer, Weinberg was offering us not a glossy public image but the hidden fabric of her life: the practical, the frayed, the intimate, and the cherished. It gave the piece both structure and honesty, a way of signalling that nothing here was going to be airbrushed.

By the end of Brief Tales I felt that I wanted to know more about her, not so much because she had left things unsaid but because she came across as someone who has lived deeply and reflected carefully. Although I am curious as to why her parent’s wouldn’t let her have Barbie dolls!

Joanna is not only a versatile performer but also a thinker, using her craft to make sense of life’s absurdities and challenges. I’ve already resolved to watch her film The Goddess and to keep an eye out for her future shows. Weinberg has that rare quality of leaving you curious for more, which is perhaps the best recommendation any performer can earn. Brief Tales was warm, frank, funny and moving—a small show with big resonance.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

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Fringe Review: The Elton John Story

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The Elton John Story is another triumph from the Night Owl stable, a show that manages to combine top-class musicianship with warmth and fun. Angus Munro and the Night Owl Band don’t attempt to impersonate Elton (although I was pleased to see some sequins and glasses!) —what they do instead is far more effective. They let the songs speak for themselves, and in doing so, they remind us why Elton John is one of the greats.

A live performance of The Elton John Story featuring a band on stage with a male pianist in a white suit and sunglasses, playing a red keyboard, accompanied by singers and instrumentalists.

From the opening number, the audience is swept along by a setlist that covers both the barnstorming anthems and the tender ballads. For me, there was a personal moment of joy when the band launched into Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. That album was my entry point into Elton’s world (though not on it’s release in 1973!), and the title track remains one of my favourite songs. Hearing it live here, handled with such respect and energy, felt like coming full circle.

The show doesn’t shy away from telling the story behind the songs either, and rightly gives space to Elton’s long-time songwriting partner, Bernie Taupin. Their partnership is one of the most remarkable in music. Bernie’s words and Elton’s melodies have been fused together for over half a century, producing classics like Rocket Man, Your Song, and Tiny Dancer. It’s a reminder that even the brightest star doesn’t shine alone—behind Elton’s showmanship has always been Bernie’s lyrical craft.

Angus Munro fronts the band with a mixture of power and charisma, his vocals soaring where they need to and softening at just the right moments. His piano playing gives the performance its heartbeat, and the Night Owl Band back him with energy and precision. There is plenty of humour in the delivery too—this is not a show weighed down with solemnity, but a celebration that often feels like a shared party.

One of the things I noticed as the show drew towards its finale was the atmosphere in the room. People were itching to dance—you could feel it. But British reserve, that old restraint, held most of us back. I’ll admit, I was tempted to start it off myself. Maybe next time I’ll be the one to break the ice, because I’m certain once one person gets up, the whole place will follow. A nudge from the stage might help too. After all, this is music meant to move us, body as well as soul.

The storytelling thread in the show also touches on Elton’s charity work, particularly the Elton John AIDS Foundation. It’s to the credit of the performers that this part is included. Elton’s legacy isn’t only measured in record sales and sold-out stadiums, but also in the lives he has touched and changed through his philanthropy. The Foundation has raised hundreds of millions to fight AIDS worldwide, a cause Elton has championed with tireless energy. That side of his story deserves just as much applause as his music, and I respect him greatly for it.

In the end, The Elton John Story works because it doesn’t treat the songs as relics of nostalgia but as living, breathing works that still connect. The audience laughed, sang along, and for a moment or two you could feel the whole room leaning forward, carried by the force of the music. It’s the kind of show that leaves you humming on the way out and smiling for hours afterwards.

Elton John once said that “music has healing power.” This show proves the point. It’s not an imitation—it’s a celebration. Next time, I’ll be ready to start the dancing.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

More information and tickets here

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Supermarket 86: A Raw Exploration of Female Friendships

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Supermarket 86 – Dream House | theSpace @ Surgeons Hall

In the flickering fluorescence of a small-town convenience store, Supermarket 86 unfolds like a memory half-recalled—warm, awkward, and tinged with regret. It’s 2007, and a blizzard has swept through Ithaca, New York, closing the roads and trapping five young women overnight in a supermarket that feels more like a liminal space than a retail outlet. What begins as a weather-induced inconvenience becomes a crucible for confession, confrontation, and quiet catharsis.

Mia Pelosi’s script is deceptively gentle. It doesn’t shout its themes—it lets them seep in slowly, like the chill through the automatic doors that never quite close. As Rose, the weary cashier with a voice like gravel softened by honey, Pelosi anchors the piece with a performance that’s all restraint and resonance. Her ex walks in just before the power cuts, and the emotional voltage spikes. What follows is a series of revelations—some whispered, some shouted—that feel earned, even when the plot leans on coincidence.

The ensemble cast includes four other women—Jules, Tasha, Lena, and Morgan—each drawn with care and played with conviction. They blow in with the storm, bringing unresolved histories, half-healed wounds, and the kind of emotional shorthand that only comes from years of shared summers and broken promises. The chemistry between them is electric—so natural, so unforced, it feels less like theatre and more like eavesdropping. Their dialogue crackles with authenticity: half-finished sentences, private jokes, and moments of silence that speak louder than words.

A young woman sitting at a supermarket counter, looking contemplative, with shelves of products in the background and a snowy effect overlay, promoting the play 'Supermarket 86'.

For some audience members—particularly men—there’s a voyeuristic thrill to this intimacy. All five characters are female, and the show offers a rare window into the emotional terrain of young women navigating identity, legacy, and longing. It’s not exploitative, but it does evoke the same curiosity that once made Cosmopolitan a guilty pleasure for male readers: a sense of listening in on conversations not meant for them, and being moved by what they hear.

Director Ellie Aslanian keeps the staging tight and intimate, using the confines of the Stephenson Theatre to evoke both claustrophobia and closeness. The set—a lovingly cluttered supermarket aisle—becomes a metaphor for emotional detritus: the things we carry, the things we discard, and the things we pretend not to see.

What elevates Supermarket 86 beyond its premise is its emotional honesty. It’s a play about young women navigating the messy terrain of friendship, grief, and self-definition. It’s about the stories we tell ourselves to survive, and the ones we finally dare to share when the night is long and the exits are blocked.

The show never overreaches. It stays grounded in the human, the awkward, the tender. And in doing so, it reminds us that even the most ordinary places—a supermarket, a snowstorm, a game of “Truth or Dare”—can become sacred when we choose to show up fully.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

Tickets and more information here We interviewed Mia Pelosi here

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Ringing Bells: A Reflection on Life’s Changes

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Ringing Out the Changes 334 words, 2 minutes read time.

Accompanied by Susannah, Eli and Geoffrey on handbells, the playwright Jo Clifford, (author of the controversial The Gospel according to Jesus, Queen of Heaven), reflects on the role of bells in the cycle of our lives.
Each of the handbells has a name:
Justice, Courage, Humility, Faithfulness, Continence, Patience, Reverence, Loyalty, Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. It’s all in the bells. Let’s live our lives in justice, have courage to make it happen, keep hoping, walk in peace, walk in joy, and live in love.
To the sound of various sets played by the three bell ringers, Jo gives a fascinating account of the use of bells in history. Bells conjured up unhappy school memories for Jo. Some of her audience might have similar miserable recollections.

A group of four individuals engaged in a discussion about handbells in a cathedral setting, with a table of handbells in front of them.

Bells often ring out to signify changes, good and bad. Church bells celebrated Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee and the bloody triumphs of Empire. Bells – specifically the bells of St Mary’s Cathedral in Edinburgh – tolled for the thousands of young men butchered in the trenches of the world wars. Bells rang out to celebrate victory in those wars. Bells rang to mourn Queen Elizabeth’s death and to celebrate the coronation of Charles III.
Bells were controversial in the early conflicts between Christianity and Islam and later around the Reformation. John Knox wasn’t a fan, but things moved on. Bells eventually found a place in the Protestant churches.
Jo tells the story of St Mary’s Cathedral, a testimony to two powerful women, Barbara and Mary Walker who led a quiet revolution. They inherited their father’s business and used the money to build the West End of the New Town. They set aside money to build a cathedral in their late mother’s name. They knew that there was more to life than just making money. They never lived to see the magnificent gothic revival cathedral take shape, but they had the vision to see it through.
Who knew that bells could be so interesting?

Reviewed by David Kerr

More information and tickets here

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