An Evening Without Kate Bush | Underbelly Boulevard

There’s something quietly brilliant about the premise of An Evening Without Kate Bush. It tells you exactly what it is and what it isn’t from the outset. This is not a tribute act, not an impersonation, and certainly not a carbon copy of Kate Bush. Instead, it’s a celebration of her music, her mythology, and perhaps most importantly, the wonderfully devoted world of her fans. At Underbelly Boulevard, the show finds the perfect intimate setting to bring that spirit to life.

At the centre of it all is Sarah-Louise Young, who is nothing short of magnetic. She doesn’t try to be Kate Bush and that’s exactly why she’s so captivating. Instead, she channels the essence of Bush’s artistry through her own lens: playful, slightly chaotic, deeply affectionate, and utterly hilarious. Young has that rare ability to make an entire room feel like they’re in on the same joke, without ever making anyone feel excluded. Her warmth is immediate and disarming, wrapping around the audience from the moment she steps on stage.

Comedically, she’s razor-sharp. The show leans into parody, but it’s never mean-spirited. It’s more like a loving wink to those who understand the eccentricities of Bush’s work. Whether she’s poking fun at the theatricality of certain songs or embracing the sheer surrealism of Bush’s lyrics, Young keeps things consistently witty and inventive. There’s a knowing cleverness to the humour, but it never feels inaccessible. You don’t need to be a die-hard fan to get the joke. In fact, part of the fun is discovering just how delightfully strange this musical world is.

That accessibility is one of the show’s greatest strengths. Even if your only reference point is Running Up That Hill making a comeback via Stranger Things, there’s still so much to enjoy here. The performance doesn’t rely on deep-cut knowledge; instead, it invites you in, gently and generously, to share in the joy. It’s less about knowing Kate Bush and more about feeling

something, whether that’s nostalgia, curiosity, or just pure amusement.

The interactive elements are another highlight, handled with a deftness that many shows struggle to achieve. Audience participation is very much part of the experience, but it never feels forced or uncomfortable. If you want to throw yourself into it, the opportunity is there and it looks like great fun. But if you’d rather sit back and watch, you’re just as welcome. That balance is crucial, and Young navigates it effortlessly, maintaining a sense of inclusivity without pressure.

What really elevates An Evening Without Kate Bush is its focus on fandom itself. This isn’t about placing Bush on an untouchable pedestal; it’s about the community that has grown around her music. The show celebrates that shared enthusiasm, the quirks, the devotion, the slightly obsessive love, and turns it into something communal. At times, it feels almost like a gathering rather than a performance, with the audience united in appreciation, whether they arrived as lifelong fans or complete newcomers.

Ultimately, this is a show bursting with personality. It’s funny, heartfelt, and just the right amount of eccentric. While it may not convert every audience member into a full-blown Kate Bush devotee, it doesn’t need to. What it does instead is far more impressive: it captures the joy of loving something wholeheartedly and invites you to be part of it, if only for an evening.

★★★★☆ (4*)

Gifted tickets in return for an honest review | Photography by Shay Rowan and Ed Fielding