Described as “a night of musical joy and monumental loss”, The Sound of Falling Stars promises “the hits and heartaches of music’s lost heroes” and it certainly doesn’t disappoint.

The charismatic, über-talented Cameron Goodall is given the task of guiding us through songs from an incredible 31 performers, ranging from the surprising to the iconic. The performance begins with a surprise in the form of the anarchic energy of Sid Vicious, who sneers and struts onto the stage in a singlet and black pants to tell us that the show will include only those singers who died really young, not those like David Bowie or Freddie Mercury who were ‘really old’ and who managed to live a lot before they died. Goodall captures the spirit of Sid without falling into caricature, and this is true for the wide range of astounding performances he gives throughout the rest of the show.

Sid reminds us that his mother provided the drugs that ultimately killed him, thus beginning a subtle thread that explores the relationships between these stars and their parents. With the scene set by Sid’s in-your-face introduction, Goodall then slips on a crisp white shirt and tailored jacket to seamlessly morph into Elvis. Goodall seems to be able to switch the different characters on and off at will, and the ease with which he moves between these 31 singers during the course of the show is just one aspect of what makes it so engaging and appealing.

The sheer joy of the show is in hearing these well-known and often iconic songs, as we are taken on a journey through a wide range of musical styles from Hank Williams to Mario Lanza, from Bobby Darin to Otis Redding and many more. Goodall doesn’t just channel the singing performances of these stars, in many cases he inhabits them vocally and physically, changing from one to another in the blink of any eye.

It is easy to be dazzled by the artistry on display, but if we listen closely to the songs and stories we are being told, we find here are many commonalities that contributed to the untimely deaths of these stars. Writer and Director Archer cleverly groups singers together through similarities in the manner of their lives or their deaths, so that we have a group of singers who suffered heart problems; some who met violent ends and some who died in plane crashes before moving into the territory of the troubled, depressed souls who looked for release in many different places. Questions are raised about whether some of these singers were pre-destined to die young; whether their ultimate end was already written in their DNA at birth or whether their lifestyles were the deciding factor in their deaths.

That we are able to consider these questions is a testament to the writing, and the fact that we feel the loss of these singers so keenly is a testament to their own talents and the ability of Goodall to recreate them. His performance as Jim Morrison oozes as much bleakness as sensuality, and is followed by a collection of songs by Tim and Jeff Buckley which are moving as well as wonderfully observed. The themes of parental relationships and destiny intertwine most closely here, as Jeff considers the irony that his desperate wish to be unlike his father was undermined by the similar ages at which they both died.

Throughout these stories, the songs are instantly recognisable and the singing of them is glorious. The range is quite astonishing both chronologically and stylistically, and Goodall’s ability to channel the vocal abilities of this wide range of musicians and musical styles is supported and enhanced by the wonderful musicianship of Enio Pozzebon (keyboard and vocals) and George Butrumlis (accordion and vocals).

While some of the characters spend time talking to the audience, drawing the threads of the themes together, some simply delight us with their singing. Sid Vicious eventually re-appears to remind us that all of the singers we have seen, including himself, have taken risks in their artistic or personal lives, making the mash up of different versions of ‘My Way’ seem an utterly appropriate end to the story.

And yet, this is not the end. Goodall and Archer have one more trick up their sleeve, and this final performance is the one that turns the attention onto us an audience. Kurt Cobain’s anguished refrain from ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ is the last thing we hear, forcing us to confront our own roles in demanding more and more from these singers, thereby making us complicit in their demise. It is an unsettling yet completely fitting end to an evening of such skilful performance.

The crowd rises to its feet at the end of the show, reflecting its admiration for this mediation on fame intertwined with such affecting performances. This is a show that deserves to be experienced by anyone and everyone who enjoys fine music, superbly performed.

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