The Legend of Queen – Edinburgh Fringe 2025
For me, Queen has never just been a band. Their music was part of the fabric of my upbringing, something I shared with my late mother, who loved them as much as I do. So when The Legend of Queen was announced for this year’s Fringe, I knew I had to be there. It wasn’t simply about nostalgia—it was about measuring whether this show could capture even a fraction of what made Queen so extraordinary. My favourite track, Killer Queen, sums up their appeal: clever, witty lyrics, bound to a melody that still sparkles fifty years on. But behind that style was Freddie Mercury, a frontman whose vocal range and theatricality were unmatched. He sang like an opera star, commanding power one moment and tenderness the next. Any tribute, to succeed, has to reckon with that legacy.
Peter Marchant, leading the Night Owl Band, stepped into that daunting role and didn’t disappoint. His voice carried the weight of expectation and delivered—clear, strong, flexible enough to soar and twist across the songs without ever straining. But just as important, he radiated charisma. Freddie was never only about technique; he was about presence, energy, and generosity to his audience. Marchant channelled that same generosity. He didn’t mimic Mercury so much as embody a spirit of joy in performance. The Night Owl Band were tight and versatile, taking us on a journey through Queen’s different musical phases—from the raw power of early rock, through their disco-inflected experiments, to the anthems that can still fill a stadium.
What struck me most was the atmosphere in the room. I’ve attended other Night Owl shows at the Fringe and enjoyed them, but the crowd here was far more alive. It was as if Queen’s music unlocked something in everyone. People were singing at the top of their lungs, clapping in time, stomping their feet, and before long the floor was shaking with dancing. I joined in too—I couldn’t help it. It was infectious. Looking around, I noticed the mix of people: older fans reliving their youth, teenagers discovering the music as if it were brand new, families sharing a common soundtrack. That, to me, is Queen’s true legacy. They never belonged to a single time or generation. Their songs still speak across age and background, uniting people in pure, unguarded enjoyment.
There’s also something to be said about Queen’s cultural role. At a time when rock was often macho and narrow, Freddie Mercury embodied flamboyance and theatricality. He brought camp, opera, and drama into the mainstream, unapologetically. Songs like Radio Gaga or Bohemian Rhapsody didn’t just push musical boundaries; they expanded ideas of what performance could be. Seeing a tribute show in 2025 that can still spark such joy suggests that Queen’s boldness remains relevant. In a festival full of new writing and experimental theatre, The Legend of Queen reminds us that art also survives by being passed on, reinterpreted, and celebrated anew.
By the end of the night, I felt both exhilarated and oddly moved. I had gone in with scepticism—could anyone really take on Mercury’s voice?—and left convinced that while no one can ever replace Freddie, the spirit of his music can still be shared in ways that feel vital and alive. Marchant and his band offered not just a tribute, but a communal act of remembrance and renewal. My mother would have loved it. And I walked out into the Edinburgh night with our favourite songs in my head, grateful that some legends never fade.
Reviewed by Pat Harrington
More information and tickets here
