Review: MAZZ MURRAY: THE MUSIC OF DUSTY SPRINGFIELD, Adelphi Theatre

There’s probably a little sniffiness still attached to tribute shows in the UK (unlike, say, Vegas, where you can unapologetically see ‘superstars’ in big rooms and pay big prices too). The secret is to go all in on the production values, so expelling any lingering sense of the holiday camp singer murdering “Delilah” and give the people what they want. If it’s not for you, there’ll be a Chekhov along soon - each to their own.

So it’s a hopeful sign to take one’s seat and see the stage filled with music stands, soon to be filled with David Mahoney’s 22 piece Novello Orchestra, which describes itself as ‘unashamedly showbiz’ and so it proves to be - even the drummer was wearing a tie! This ain’t no overnight ferry show!

But, rather as you are now as you read this review, we’re waiting for the star of the show and, in the first of a succession of spangly gowns, she emerges from the wings, queen of all she surveys. 

We clock that it’s not ‘Dusty’ - the hair isn’t piled up, the kohl not all but covering the eyes - and we welcome the fact that the show will avoid suggestions of a couple of hours cosplaying without the hi-tech avatars at the Abba Arena a few miles east of the West End. That, and an introduction from Mazz Murray (showbiz royalty in her own right lest we forget and currently starring in Mamma Mia!) sets up the performance as high on glitz and glamour, but low on Stars In Their Eyes cheese.

That’s a smart move primarily because Mazz’s voice is different to Dusty’s, its heritage in shows like We Will Rock You and Sunset Boulevard, rather than forged in studios and nightclubs. It’s a voice with belt and presence that can sell a song and fill a house and we should (and we do) appreciate it for that. 

But it also underlines what makes Dusty (the Springfield is largely superfluous, as there’s only one Dusty) such an enduring star. There’s a catch somewhere in that voice, something indefinable that you hear in John Lennon singing “Help!”, but not often elsewhere. It lends Dusty’s vocals an inherent vulnerability, an equivocation that nags away at you, that takes the cliches of bubblegum pop like “I Only Want To Be With You” and underpins the narrative with a melancholy, a depth, a soul that pulls you back and forth between the joy of a first love and the terror of losing it. This is all done naturally - it’s just there in her voice - and it’s why the songs speak across generations, the reason why the oldies in a very mixed audience are there. 25 years after her death and perhaps double that since we first heard the songs, they speak to us with an insistent urgency.

It’s no disappointment that we only hear that unique quality in our heads - the show’s the thing, and the show is good. Mazz is a warm rather than a distant diva, and told some super stories between the silk, the sequins and the songs, one killer payoff line almost provoking a coughing fit in your reviewer! She also pulls the incomparable Madeline Bell on stage to join her, the singer who has sung with everyone, undiminished in her 80s, radiating talent and charisma. The backing singers offer more than mere accompaniment, stepping into the spotlight to showcase their own individual vocals (and giving time for another quick change for Mazz - on her birthday too!) Take a bow Marsha Morrison, Adenikè Zen and Patrick Smyth.

Not all my favourites were in the set list - “Anyone Who Had A Heart” left for Sheridan Smith and those breathy late career collaborations with The Pet Shop Boys also left out - but we get “The Look Of Love” and others from the Bacharach-David songbook, Carol King’s sublime “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?” and the crowdpleasing “Son Of A Preacher Man”. A super medley of “Breakfast in Bed” / “I Just Don’t Know What to do with Myself” / “All I See is You”, is a standout, the last seeing Mazz engage full operatic aria mode.

 I guess it’s the way of things these days, but many in the front rows (and some around me) were filming pretty much everything on their phones, no doubt already acquiring hits on Insta. I felt for the people behind them and for the producers of the show who had crafted an experience only to have these cuckoos elbow them aside, intruding on our attention - it certainly reduced my enjoyment of the evening. There was no intervention from theatre staff, so I must assume that it’s indulged, but why not tell us - after all, you’re forewarned about relaxed performances of plays, and those involve far less egregious behaviours?

So Mazz Murray: The Music of Dusty Springfield delivers a classy, old-school night out from an entertainer who knows what to do and does it. Okay, it’s not quite the real thing, but what could be? That’s why we have Youtube.  

Photo images: Danny Kaan

 

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